it’s 22:22 pm.

persons are
nice
people
aren’t

it’s easy
to talk
when someone
is not with
someone 1
someone 2
you get the idea

crowds scare me
they change you
cover up
vulnerabilities
flaws
in bright yellow
wrappers
with big
orange dots

one
two
three
as the numbers grow
you
I
and they
all
become
one

stuck
to a cobweb
spun
by
the spider
called
crowd

the AC is too cold.

its great
being here
in this bubble
well paved pathways
pretty lawns on either side
comfortable crappers
hot showers
and
fancy food

air-conditioned libraries
with couches
so comfortable
my ass-cheeks blush
Kakfa
Kalidas and
other names starting with K
resting in order

too many faces
with a smile on
thinking
writing
arguing
right and wrong
hunger poverty and misery
deep stuff
hot sandwiches
waiting to be eaten

its good
being surrounded by people
and having
something to do
all the time

but

I miss the old world
where I had nothing to do
but complain about
having nothing
to do

its Friday afternoon
clear sky and a bright sun
a butterfly floating
above the
neatly cut bushes

time for lunch.

fuckin’ optimism.

optimism
fuckin’ optimism

when watching some movie
pursuit of happiness
forrest gump
or some shitty romcom
with a happy ending
listening to
the hero articulate
in his reassuring deep voice
carefully worded
inspirational lines

when listening to music
or reading a book
or staring
at the night sky

a lump forms
in my heart
rising up to
my throat
the lump called hope
heavy
beautiful
lingering there
for a while

and it fades into
melancholy
leaving
no traces
behind

morning dew
on a hot
summer’s day

​https://dailypost.wordpress.com/2017/05/31/trace/

விர்ர்.

​சத்தமே இல்ல
மதியானம்
மரமா சிலையா
சந்தேகம்

மொட்டமாடி வெயில்ல
காத்து தேட வந்தேன்
வானத்தையே காணோம்

சுத்தியும் வீடுங்க
கான்கிரீட் காடு
இந்த வெக்கைல
கம்பனுக்கே கவித வராது
எனக்கு
வேர்வ தான் வருது

மின்காத்தாடி மட்டும்
சுத்துது
இல்லாத காத்தோட
மல்லுகட்டி
‘விர்ர்’னு..

have fear.

fear
the screens
for they create
your beliefs
your reality
your truth

fear them
malls
those huge ugly blocks
of shops
especially the ones
with food courts
fear them
for they tell you
it’s okay to buy things
things that
you don’t need

fear education
schools and colleges
with their textbooks and grades
feeding you
organized bullshit
in the name of
knowledge

fear gods
religions and ideologies
for they’ve killed
more humans
than
the plague

fear the masses
the cunning
the ignorant
the gullible
you and I
for we
create
them all

have fear
there’s a war
going on
and we’re
losing

terrace.

I like to spend my time
up on the terrace
the breeze
the birds
and
the occasional peeping
into the neighbours’ houses

it’s magic
evenings
giving way
to nights

the lights go on
in the streets
in the houses
the noises intensify
you can feel the
presence
our presence
and from here
the city
and it’s people
seem bearable

I like terraces
you just waste your time
up here
yet it feels
profound

I see terraces around
a lot of them
but no one
on them
lying down
reading
listening to music
dreaming
not a single human being
wasting their time

and something is sad
about the wind
that just blew

bureaucraps.

hate the bureaucrats
and their offices
I had been to one a few days ago
old building with stuffy rooms
and rickety fans
full of documents
you can smell the paper
it stings your nose
and these damn bureaucrats
middle aged men
bald and fat
women with big glasses
and hair on their upper lips
it’s always them

you feel helpless
before these bastards
too lazy
to put up with their shit
I must’ve had that look on my face
for one of those snakes
slimy and smiling
snakes
that hang around these offices
they get things done
came up to me
held out his hand

I would like to say
that I walked away
but I placed a few bills
on his hand
he hissed a smile
a few handshakes
head scratches
and boot licking later
I got the address
on my licence
changed

walked back home
searching for my balls
I want to be a hero
but I’m not
so I write
whining like it matters
to feel better about
myself