as I whistle to the tune of the breezing winds
I sit in my SUV
tinted in the silver of eagerness
to please the rich and the broken
like a dog licking the boots
of a pig who has gobbled
far too many sorrowful hearts
of the fresh-grads, of the penniless
of all the young people with professional degrees
as my golden mind boasts of its success
in sleeping through a bronze medal
while the winner is a slave
whose mouth spits out lies and assumptions
that my talent is God-given
that my hard work is that of my neighbors
that my SUV is stolen from an honest person
who receives money from under the table
in the most magical, most unbelievable way
like an illusionist disappearing from the stage
yet reappearing in the minds of everyone
haunting their dreams
reshaping their lives
In the midst of the moving trees
large factories lurk in between
seemingly too shy to show off their bodies
too conservative to expose their private stories
that they are fucked on a day-to-day basis
by slaves chained to a dark authority
lost in the lightless storm
walking and running but never closer
to escaping from their personal hell
far too long ago
I, who had the brain of a carefree child
who had the heart of a molested dog
screamed with a spirit of defeat
"where are the clouds?"
"where am I in this world of pain?"
and now I have my answer
I did not wish for clear white clouds
and thus the slaves are now ensnared
by the pitch-black clouds of sin
exhaled from a person with putrid breath
who was birthed by a toothless lion
raised by a legless tiger
murdered and resurrected by an angelic snake
and mentored by a MACHINE
I stop at a traffic light
I see no vehicles, no people
as if the crossroad was carefully crafted
as a rendezvous point for four ghosts
who went separate paths after graduating
from a rusty university with manufactured degrees
after going through lonely lives
where friends come and go
like the blue birds migrating to the south
leaving their large, sturdy tree to die of depression
the four ghosts are such loving beauties
disregarding their individual peculiarities
one with three eyes
one with three arms
one with three legs
and one with a heart that fits all four of them
I watch as the three-eyed ghost speaks
with a slight tremble, as if
the three eyes have seen what cannot be unseen
"I have seen people die
and when they die, they die three times
first, their physical bodies give in
then their minds shut down forever
but their hearts
oh, their pitiful little hearts
as alone as a puppy whose owner had a heart attack
as fearful as a butterfly getting its wings pulled out
as inconsolable as a baby elephant whose mother was shot
the small, tiny hearts shrink
they wither, they wrinkle
like a paper being crumbled by a clenched fist
readying to punch the short life
out of the suicidal hearts
and they are forever gone"
As the lonely nameless tears
creep down the three bloodshot eyes
swerving and slithering like a blind snake
carefully avoiding the bumpy pores and wrinkles
the index fingers of three hands
soothingly glide along the saggy skin
just below the three droopy eyelids
wiping away the salty glitter
as the three poor eyes lose their sparkles
as if the sadness is the true source of happiness
for the three-eyed ghost, who lived a short life
of physical torture, mental victimized
a psychological thriller with a twist ending
murdered, stabbed in all three eyes
left for dead in a pool of blood and aqueous humor
by a person with three arms
who was the lover of the three-eyed ghost
who loved like a father, a mother, a child
and has been perished in a freak accident
when a MACHINE has malfunctioned
the light of love has penetrated the heart
the lungs and the brain
The factory was shut down
for only a week
the accident robbed the lives of twenty people
the fathers of thieves
the mothers of rapists
the children of terrorists
and a privileged three-armed person
who was spoon-fed until thirty
whose parents were the shield to all problems
until the parents were executed
for making a counterfeit MACHINE
and the person ran, and ran fast
ran away from all the problems
the thieves, the rapists, the terrorists
that sought to desecrate the person's great name
even with three arms keeping them at arms' reach
the person was not a good runner
for even with three arms, the person has never worked
how would the person ever run with a mere two legs
for even with three arms, the person has never worked
how would the person ever run with a mere two legs
there was no chance of surviving the accident
for the only survivor was a being
without eyes, without arms
who only knew how to run
run away from conventions, stereotypes
run away from the factory
The three-legged ghost
was once the owner of the factory
who ran the daily operations of the factory
a fully-automated robotic heaven
kept afloat by eye-equipped metallic arms
assembling, disassembling, reassembling
the million intricate parts of the MACHINE
the three-eyed person
a mistreated, bankrupt being
and the three-armed person
a spoiled, affluent being
were one through the light of love
still one even in a dark place
such is the source of irritation
of the obsessive, lustful life
of the perverted three-legged person
full of envy towards the three-armed person
for all three eyes only stared at one being
it was a simple task of finding and capturing
the makers of the counterfeit MACHINE
destroying all the pillars of love and support
and running away from an accident
that was merely manufactured
Yet one can easily argue
that the unbreakable bond
connecting the three-eyed person and the three-armed person
was also a product manufactured
by the light of love
emitted from a MACHINE
a corrupted, yet highly-intelligent MACHINE
constructed from ground up
by a three-legged person
by a three-eyed person
by a three-armed person
yet, only the three-legged person
the most sinful, most wicked of the three
got the opportunity to experience retirement
and die of old age
surrounded by family and friends
none of which truly loved the person
there was only one regret
for the three-legged person has ran away
from the one person who loved and was loved
a person with a big heart
who is now a ghost with a big heart
I step out of the car
slowly close the door shut
I walk towards the centre of the crossroad
I stand still at the centre
feeling the cold breeze
brush through the hairs on my arms
as my eyes look upwards
gazing into the depths of the pitch-black clouds
getting brighter by the second
and is now dull grey
I feel as if my legs are getting heavier
being pulled into the earth
not by gravity, but by the weight
of a formerly empty heart
that I thoroughly and delightfully abused
by stuffing it with emotions
happiness, sadness, anger
pride, disappointment, apathy
I'm trying my very best
to accept and love the many walks of life
the infinite varieties of beings
I'm trying, I'm really trying
three eyes, three arms, three legs
my heart is expanding
as if it is going to burst
undoing all my efforts of being part of this world
to be a little more observant
and to be a little less blind
to be a little more proactive
and to be a little less reactive
to be a little more accepting
and to be a little less avoiding
To be a little more human
and to be a little less ghost
As the most headache-inducing tune
bursts out of my phone speakers
I rise from my sleep
still a little blurry, still a little dreamy
yet, I know, this is the right path
while everything falls apart as I fall asleep
everything rises again as I rise awake
This is not the time for reflections
life is a short movie
time flies a little too fast
I get out of bed
I head for the door
I open the door
and I realize I am in the middle of a vast blue sea
Yet I don't feel lost
I don't feel empty
for I am at a scene of beauty
as hints of purplish dust exit the door behind me
transforming the dull grey clouds into a magnificent purple
and a voice speaks at my pitch
unintelligible, for I hear nothing
yet I feel everything
a sentence of love, a poem of beauty
surrounded by the purple smoke
the red, blue, violet winds
a deep breath
and I see the dark visages of four
a being who couldn't see
a being who couldn't work
a being who couldn't run
and a being
with a dusty
yet beautiful heart
that spans across a thousand seas
swimming across a thousand galaxies
existing across a thousand timelines
releasing all the tension
the emotions
from my thousand hearts
yet I feel everything
a sentence of love, a poem of beauty
surrounded by the purple smoke
the red, blue, violet winds
a deep breath
and I see the dark visages of four
a being who couldn't see
a being who couldn't work
a being who couldn't run
and a being
with a dusty
yet beautiful heart
that spans across a thousand seas
swimming across a thousand galaxies
existing across a thousand timelines
releasing all the tension
the emotions
from my thousand hearts
