Elephant god somewhere

A Hindu god, an elephant head
          Sacred symbols, from a thousand year ago
Clothed in time’s fine delicacies
          Beige white silk and golden embroidery
Draped over her ivory beige smooth
          kind skin
Pretty face maiden, like my mom
          A crown of flowers on her head

His admiration of me is far away
          And I get to learn about
Big picture problems
In the inner circle

Places made of fine earth, tan and beige
          Spinning earth, below the mountains and on the valley
There’s a brick wall and people who live in tiny rooms that I enjoy watching
          But it gets turned into high rails for a speedy subway systems
That engines through brick gaps and bumps, and I wonder if it’ll throw me out into the ocean while it titters around
          Hindu god with the head of an elephant
Ancient beliefs upheld so dear
          I dreamt about a god…

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Good dream or a bad dream?

Sitting on your boss’s lap, leaning in and falling asleep
While he does work for you on the laptop
Someone comes in to check
He responds, ‘This is team-building…’



“Life is but a Dream” – Lewis Carroll

A boat, beneath a sunny sky
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July

Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Pleased a simple tale to hear

Long has paled that sunny sky;
Echoes fade and memories die;
Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.

In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die;

Ever drifting down the stream
Lingering in the golden gleam
Life, what is it but a dream?

1872, Lewis Carroll



Dream Chaser



No reason to explain why

There’s a concrete parking lot, cracked and with weed forming on the sides.
There’s a first floor classroom, crowded, cold and unfamiliar;
the people in it untrustworthy, suspicious, and dangerous. Sounds of machine carpentry on a summer day, mechanical, penetrating, uncomfortable. The smell of roadkill, toxicity, and cancer. A feeling of repetition, limbo, unwanted loneliness and fear.
Ninety degrees Fahrenheit nights, and waking up with anxiety.
Herd of delusional people. People who talk but say nothing meaningful, who live a routine lifestyle, and laugh without luster in their eyes. People who have it all together; acceptable personality, perfect family, work like a mule, and party when appropriate. People who expect the same from everyone. People and their generic, packaged, and automated versions of happiness. Feeling of distrust, loneliness, and coldness,
and there’s no reason to openly explain why.



We meet again


We meet again. You in your grandeur, your hairs encircling jewels and the flowers beside you boom, understated… by the brilliance that is you.
It is odd isn’t it, that I see you here. You didn’t expect me. But you make me chuckle; do you really find it that strange?
Drenched in the rain my body drips anguish and blood. Sweat from all the worthless work I did to be here, so that I, one day can stand a stranger in front of you.
You by your flowers,
And I
And you find it strange don’t you…