About Costumes and Customs


Wear, wear whatever you dare,
Tho, the global locality has no morality...


Animals with human customs,
Humans with animal costumes
Form the world into a modest mode-


In which the smartest ones are silent
While the mass dress in rumbling drunkness,
In happy hues of the humbling violent,
Of the primitive ****-geniuses.


Does ****** equal with the human nature?
Which? Human as savage or creature?
Born or grown?
While sensations design human customs,
Is predestination more than a fake costume?


Does the world hold anything divine?
While we follow an immoral aurora-
Its warming colours in a frozen desert,
That implies no divine unseen scenes?


Questions are colorless, unseen but existing,
Alike to God's infinite fineness-
Probing our customs if they are probed.


Methink costumes as a colorful ocean,
Mesee customs as the change of the world.


We sink in the dying world's dying ocean.

The brains above my mouth
make me eat on time
two extensions detect
food and that's how

it got out of hand

The eyes made the hands go
to the inedible world, and
made them build extra rooms
to store things

I too went
and from time to time
I migrated back to the past
my friends and family

where my itch started
to make cartwheels
to another world, away
from the table at home

where I had eaten enough
and was looking into the distance
where I hoped to be touched
by a new love

.
One day gone in the long great forest
Of the ancient world, wolves alone
And mighty hungered with true kin
Stalking the tundras of the snow drifts
And all their prey, with cautionary eyes
Moved in heards and flocks swaying
With the sounds of the forest floor
And the spearing grasses.  The wolf
Was his own master, free, unbounded.
A great spirit, brother to the moon.

One dying day, when the bushes burned
They came upon the garbage dumps
Of early man.  Their smoke was laden
With the smell of fresh ****, small skins,
Animals, ended trail, and salted death.
Many wolves circled in fear, their pits,
Only one or a few tasted the left overs
The easy scraps and bones, tailings,
The elder pack would not stoop for.
These few unguarded wolves morphed
And mated with each other, their mane
And fur, soon was tamed, soon became
Mottled and brown no silver remaining.
This was the fall of the wolf, not man
And the moon turned white, when wolf
Became dog.
.

and mankind came together
on that July day

as they watched the historic
landing on the moon's lay

it was an event every corner
of the earth shall recall

the scientific endeavor
did so marvelously enthrall

mankind is but a speck of sand
yet we are blind
to our insignificance
for we are only
what we know

It is not personal
when things go wrong
although I live wisely
because we do everything together

in the karma mixer
of instincts and virtues
and circumstances that change
from moment to moment

My life is too short
for any karma of my own
which will come later
as a drop in the brew

from the karma mixer
that's all I am
unimportant, even
if I'm famous

life is but a fragile thing
years may seem as if they were one day
wanting to relive it all again
as if it never really happened
the want to feel or touch
afraid to forget
time has covered our memories in dust
thus I accept that no man is immortal
including I
a flower is picked from the garden
while one's time is withering away
the other is in full bloom
the peace of acceptance
not knowing how long the journey will last
bloom while in season
this life
merely a temporary ride to the next



You are to me like a Ruby set in my most precious gold ring ...

A man born of nothing
Likewise from everything.
Came from no where
Yet somewhere.
A man who clutches freewill
But has no voice.
He is of every hue
And whom his coitus is specific
And undefined.

He walked the earth by choice.
Conversed with whom he wished.
And lived how he saw fit.

However a calling came for some heroes of his clique.
And he was drawn or he volunteered.

Rough this path was to be
And rough it turned out.

As the path grew darker
The man grew darker.
He partook, inflicted, and observed such unimaginable cruelty. It could only be imagined.

The cruelty was real.
It made him feel so real.
So connected.
Primitive and so developed.

Until he found his breaking point.
Seeing something so terrible it was definitely real.
His eyes wore scars that only faded in the later years of his life.
But he would remember the scene to the exact detail forever.

The path got brighter. So did the man.
But the man was always not as gleeful as his surroundings.
He like so many of his fellow hero’s got stuck in the past sometimes.
Going back to when the path wasn’t so bright.

He lived the rest of his life in peace. Had a family. Fought for the right things with what voice he had.

One day he returned to the most horrific battlefield he once stood on as a soldier.
A man his age, but of the enemy’s looks gazed at him.

An unspoken barrier would always separate them.
But these two were as close and as far as brothers.

They shared a glance so deep only warriors could read it. Roughly translated it said, “All of that is done and gone with. I’ll love you for sharing my memories. I’ll hate your for the bad ones.” Then they went their ways and lived out their days in harmony with hatred and sadness.

Only men like them will ever really be truly human. Living on either side of the spectrum of good and evil for your entire life is fictional. Truth is only found in equilibrium. Humanity is only found in the duality of Devine beauty and incomprehensible darkness.