PENMIND MEDIA & CREATIVITY

These special breads always come with a seal. After a bite,endless slicing is unzipped The breads come in flavours, shapes and curves. Almighty baker armed the slicers with hard knives, Knives of varied length, width and vigour knives which bleed ever flowing jam That love, makes the world revolve? Lie! Loves is only a yeast to evoke slicing. I fell into a trance yesterday, But i hardly came across whole bread, She is everywhere but on the shop shelves The slicers buy the bread with money and swagger. But nothing easily baits her as shop and spree. I was at a consummation banquet yesterday, Upon my binoculars on the bride, I lament silently for the naive slicer, For he rejoices greatly over his new special bread. If only he knew that she is just a maked-up sliced bread.

There in the ocean of our missions We paddle the boat of our goals Just to arrive at the shore of possibilities But the reality tints the eyes of the binoculars of our fates Fearful we are in the dangling sea of life Wailing as we are sailing with the oars Of sparkling pearls of certificates, But stranded, starved While feeding the empty ships of grades While being bitten by the toothless termites, itching the soul of our dreams Through  sky-high hike in tuitions. While calling mother at home, she said. 'the sky has changed her garment and the way to farm has been adjusted: the world, our world, has worn a new pair of trousers, Tattered like the glowing mud of saliva, Our tongues is being tortured in the prison of silence Forlorn the hope of novel ages, Engineered by the tools of  gluttony ,' she said. 

Stretches of utterances in wailing smiles Eclipse of lines from pleasant places It’s as if the world is no longer with us And heaven is now our village of imagination Matador and skeleton are relics of wavelength. As if I should embrace racing wind of the death But death is the altitude of our unseen shadows Those with heads lack the gift of honorary crown Blended serrated wings are product of standing wall Heats of end attacked our rising hope in morning sun. Rushing mighty wind naked windows of the night But we hardly capture the reign of comforting breeze We are sprouting-mortals at the table of the mortal-gods Surviving strength of many in underground of secret places Legal occupants of skyscrapers are messengers of the ghettoes. Echoes of failure and celebrated success intersect at equilibrium We know darkness for confusion in street of rising thought But elders of light ran across the shade of conscience Shift of operation as day wea...