“partly truth, partly fiction; a walking contradiction.”
i don’t have much time left
before my contradictory needs and dreams consume the burning torch of passion
and the words i say right now, unfiltered and uncensored
become the fatal imbroglio of words that please
words that spread like wildfire and are consumed by masses
that will stop thinking and use mine to ahead their agenda
which will become the blind men’s opinion & propaganda
i don’t have much time left
before i start writing to be read
and the ink blots that were loved and cherished feel cheated
the black and blue go on an endless task to make green
and i, consumed by my desires, become a sheep.
a sell out; both morally and financially.
people that know increase, but those that understand disappear
and my soul is sacrificed; hanged on a cross made of dollars
with pouring fantasies, and baring of my fabricated thoughts that are untrue
and set on fire by the machine matchstick that wants everything to be consumed
and men, women and children that had faith are coughing and choking on the smoke of mass consumption.
i know my fall; i have no assumptions.
i don’t have much time left.
when i am senile and my eye sight is weak
my soul would have weakened long before that.
and when i stand on the podium of life
igniting and setting fire to the stage of visibility
spread across all media of consumption.
smiling, waving, framing, feigning.
i know the smoke contains my values, reaching the sky and new heights but dead and gone.
i know i will have to go on.
i understand i am a cog in the wheel
the wheel will move and underneath it lies crushed a few people that could have been saved
but before i become that famous victim, i shall speak my mind, for what i feel now might change later
and my changed thoughts might not reach anyone; not even me.
sigh,
a last try.
i don’t have much time left.
मंच 