S... talking!

It took me over 10 minutes to realise what I was doing.
.. and then 1 second to reprimand myself, and two more to log myself out.
It's often the time that you don't count is so enjoyably endearing.

To say this is the most widespread illness today is an understatement.
It's a protection, from the wretched eyes that follow you everywhere from bus depot to milk depot.
It's freedom not to look back when walking on an empty alley.
It's the safety at the end of the line-up at the movies.

Or is it, once you consider the carbon blueprint you just scattered your favorite ether channel?
Your chosen music channel, neatest social gossip corner or the virtual outlet which don't ask twice while you window surf for hours.
What is the cost you pay for all these made-to-order and deliver-at-home niceness?
Or is privacy a product sold by default.

I know most of us won't even blink trading fingerprints for a cool swipe.
Or a voice for a lady friend for all weather. That may give way to text analytics.
Or simple location for better graphics in the map... or choices in the market.
Because what better before you walk into the mall, and all sweaters are sized for you!

There's a cost of personalisation, and it's okay if some are okay to pay it.
But once everybody's defaulted to give in, to a larger lion, lone rabbits die alone.
So I enjoy my guilty pleasures till my last two seconds of reality hits me,
and we all loose in a game that shows to win, but makes sure you pay enough.

Hope Tense

Let the musical genius play foul.

Let the drumbeats run cacophonous.

Let the sunshine lighten the wrong room.

Let the missed call come from important someone.

Because hope is the only dope,
because ray is the only say
to lights bright at the end of the rainy day.

When the florist runs out of bouquets but it's her birthday
and the chocolate basket don't seem sweet enough
Maybe the days and minutes are clocked by the hour
But still, keep at it until the watch keeps ticking.

Because the ticktock at the night
is the only show of might
that you can show to the person on the mirror wall.

We will still shine bright
Forget diamonds, still be crazy
For the moments that are still our servants
and we will continue to enslave them to give us joy.

Let the joy be living in its own talent.

Let the spirit be alive tearing the brollies off.

Let the early morning jog run amok in the dew.

Let the fist be strong even when if the smiles are few.

Showstopper

You have been moving slow.
On an eternal afterglow.

Innocence couldn't define
what assurance couldn't refine
from hearsay or grapevine
the reality of the ravine.

The beauty of the fall colors
is proven by the barren browns of
the winter snow.
The purity of the soul may thus
be measured by the lives
one touched in the show.

The show must have gone on, but how
The glamour could have faded in time, not now
Now was too early, too early to be previous
too soft, too tender to be serious.

O, but we tried to be calm.
In the storm, we used the palm
to cover the forehead so it wouldn't warm up the body
Only, if only, could we sing some of the Bohemian Rhapsody.
   

Gory. Memory. Glory.

Let the tresses fall... fall apart today!

Let them not be tied to the tee, let them
not be knotted perfect. I like them free.
Like you, unlike me.

There were days when we admired the Sun... in all it's glory,
and gory, occasionally. But then came the waters, taking
the mothers apart from the daughters. The daughters had a failed existence anyway.
We are tagged regressive after all.

Somewhere it doesn't add up.
The numbers, the emotions, the history, the culture -
the tradition of procrastination and failing when and where it matters.
It's just too perfect to be true, or so it seems.

Let the winds blow us off tonight.
Let the tresses, again, fall off.
Imperfection, is sometimes, beautiful.
For without chaos, order is just not monotonous.
Predictability is death.

Come. Let's live and jive.
Again. Once again. And Again.