The Collective Experience

Fluorescent lights illuminating the windows,

like television screens that reveal:

millions of lives happening simultaneously

the diversity of humanity played out within fixed spaces

Of daily dramas drowning

in sorrow, anger, pain and hurt

either concealed in gritted teeth and downcast eyes,

or crescendoing into screams and broken pottery

There is cold comfort in knowing
that our realities can be separated by just a wall

that the real us can be hidden in the privacy of our homes,
our souls stripped down to its raw and tainted bones

because familiarity breeds all kinds of things:

boredom, contempt, impatience or
a reckless desire to break out of routine.

Night As Day (Poem)

the moon was conquered by

men who aspired to be sun gods.

replacing stars with street lamps,

flooding her skies with harsh, artificial light,

from fluorescent bulbs and flashing neon signboards galore, 

night paraded and masqueraded

in a cruel parody of day.

the blaze of city lights burn through shuttered eyelids

sending humans into half woken slumber

as they dream of relentless activity

flickering scenes racing into oblivion,

receding into pinpricks of freedom,

forgotten.

The Finitude of Time (Poem)

we are haunted by the invisible hourglass,

a reminder that our time here on Earth is finite,

and Death is a certainty, no matter what form it takes

we are overfed with cliches like,
 'Life is fragile, so treat each day as a gift,'

yet, in the face of the mundane and repetitive,

it is far easier to forget our limited control

we assume the luxury to face Death on our own terms,

sweeping our fears under the rug

it is only when Death suddenly hits close to home, unexpected and tragic

that this knowledge gets thrown into sharp relief, cutting us quick to the heart,

leaving us to bleed our vulnerability in the midst of incomprehensible chaos

Snowglobe (Poem)

with minds locked away in dusty snowglobes

we’ve trapped ourselves in a self-operated utopia

where rigid law is the order of the day,

the typical follow the predictable,

and ignorance is the latest trend.

our lives are cloned variations,

grinding along the same clockwork gears

we're chained to a system trading in trust (-cloaked lies)

as prisoners in the guise of kings

while we occupy ourselves

looking out for falling bodies,

lest misery loves company

and misfortune ends our own.

Lost Light (Poem)

golden sparklers spinning in circles,
against the backdrop of hollow sky.

through half-hung eyelids,
I look on as rockets escape
to infinity and galaxies beyond,
colliding in one blinding cosmic explosion.

its brilliance ablaze,
burning black holes into longing eyes
and in spite of lost sight,

I swoon, I sigh,
at the beauty of fleeting light.