heat, pressure quite uncomfortable

and clay screams, shouts, revolts

makes no pretense that this torture is quite unwanted,

meanwhile wallflowers sit idly by with wind pass

through, gently swaying to the ebbs and sighs of each

passing generation

they do not protest nor stomp on streets to make themselves heard,

hear, hear the white elephant trumpets, growls, roars

when not enough attention goes around

even though the limelight is focused on this silly trinket

where buyers edge away with a promise more like a red herring

because the ones that burn the most have become shrewd

from whippings, scorns, life’s lessons not to be mistaken

from idle luxury never earned.

larger shadows loom over smaller ones, darker pigments

discolor the less vibrant, less showy, less depth

in the swimming pool and the refraction is a trick played on eyes

while eager ambitious swimmers struggle to make sense

of bottoms not found, legs kicking, panicking to water drank

with lungs not comprehending liquid, an ill form indeed

to sputter out: trying to make sense of how and why

a crocodile cries even as it chews on meat of fallen humans unable

to make peace with idealism taught in books, not fulfilled

when life’s experience changes meaning: the sirens lapped at wounds,

numbing pain from inflicted wounds, more, more the tortured

cried out as numbness meant stasis, as the merciless crocodile chewed on

meat now gone into one belly full and the languid animal fell asleep

on wallflowers that took in what the tide gave, neither protesting nor

lamenting, unaffected for they were not the spectacle,

hanging on the beams — indifferent, uncolorful, alive.

the forest is dense with seed, canopy and life seeking life,

cries mimic preys, predators while the runners dash by

to grab another drink to complete this harsh marathon

with sweat cascading down warm bodies, their song is strong,

eager, reaching towards the end, what end?

of exhaustion, or collapse from a heart disease soon to be made known,

fear is not around when endorphin is pouring through veins,

then the blades sliced through air, weaving together

white elephants, painted dolls, somber knights, sirens, thieves

and heroes altogether, then the pieces elongated, shrunk, flattened

in the kiln that groaned, moaned and heaved, sputtered

out contents of spotted whites, elephants, thieves that sung like sirens,

sirens that clawed with knives, knights that joked endlessly about satires,

dolls that had more human elements in them than men.

they all walked the streets at nights, at noon, in the evening

but the flags they carried and the words spoken were foreign,

could not be recognized, till the midnight bell sounded again,

again and again, of a universe manufacturing machinery

churning out toys that were made of dreams, nightmares and yesterday’s idealism.