flag no buy get no ration this the state of our nation time tragic economy slack make no magic wear no black flaring nostrils different stuff the chinese know have called his bluff imaginary friend imaginary degree imagination running riot peacocks strangely quiet

the moon bracketed by the roofs of the two chawls opposite mine kept me company every night a different shape a different size as i studied in my verandah then there was that night when i had just the streetlight to chat with the people around were quite nice tea would appear sometimes…

the ink they put on our finger dries up so quick the pride we feel doing our bit fades out so quick the selfies we take lose meaning so quick auctions and threats eclipse the festival of democracy helpless we watch vultures circling they are quick to spot a corpse

the babas you cheer the dadas you hail their clever words and liberal facade betray eventually your respect finally ground to dust for them just a step to their summit of arrogance when the mask falls off & you still submit then the jokes on you hold them to a higher…

hunger can be forged into protest stout hearts can bring down folks perched on a throne no prosthetic available for a compromised soul it just decays rots stinks and sinks into an abyss seeking hate camouflaged as a blanket warm the cold heart seeks refuge pretends to sleep

i hope when the time comes the good boatman will take me across to where my old man is a cold beer few shots of urrak we need to close a few chapters or at least move the bookmark a bit some myths I hold onto like hope

praise him hail him there is no limit you can do so to the sky and moon beyond the metre the grammar unimportant its all music to our master his appetite insatiable praise the fodder needed to feed his insecurity his raison d’être criticise of course you must we need to…