Author Information
Misery is Mine
They search for what they know does not exist;
they want what is impossible to possess;
they hold what they do not need…
***
Trench coats are sweeping the streets-
the murky, seeping, rather souring town gutters.
A march of mumbling Harlequins,
in search of their blue Malvinas,
go left-right; yours-mine; tip-tapping stone-cold hearts
in rushing dance of grotesque brou-ha-ha.
Inside the kitchen of Netherworld,
new recipe of fancy words intrigue the public-
far more amused by the last display- a cub,
(behind the corner of the riddled gnomic)
is rearranging the garbage rats in mud-pull ride
for a brown penny and a decent spit.
Two rebels in a baby crate are teasing Destiny:
the crack in the wall is only a scratch;
the nailed up window will isolate the cold;
the triplets went to sleep, counting the stars.
It’s just a fairytale, while
the dog urine soiled carpet is gasping from the smell.
The dinner time got switched with time for bed-
“You’ll have your meal tomorrow morning,
this way we are a meal ahead”.
Two blocks down a masquerade is drowned
in high pitch sound, black/yellow ribbons and a melodrama.
We (all ready to applaud in silent trembling) are checking
the long door’s chains, the portal’s double locks.
No risk is taken in the set distraction; we should relax-
the felon’s free, focused on his next incision.
And here, we all reach for the Vault of Heaven-
unleashed, disturbed, fed up, ungainly, vainly polished.
There’s no greater prison than unbound freedom-
so, where would you run in your escape?
