Some Say
Some say, that every colour has a special meaning, One that flowers wearing them know not revealing, Some say, colour is an accident in evolution’s learning, One that the eyes perceiving them realise not peering. Some say, that every road
Heteroculture
When someone preaches culture, as scientifically as horticulture, Just stand up and let them know, enough of this farcical show, That you already have yours, and the rest of them, have theirs, Music comes about, as much from common sound,
East Bank of Euphrates
The fish are very angry, and wish the sun would finally stop, Robbing their already depleted river, drop by evaporating drop, They know not, why their water, is vanishing with a shroud, And then sun cannot tell them, it is
Barfi
When you refuse to see, the suffering staring right at you, And don’t even blink, thinking it doesn’t really concern you, When you fail to appreciate, any image your eyes just took, You are no different, and no better, than
Bellissima
The day finally came, when we need to move from this place, I was told to pack everything I knew, into a little suitcase, The lease ran out, on the quirks that brought us face to face, And we would