Fruit Ninja

There are two knives
and there is a battle for the Lieutenant General.

From the oblivion of Plato’s roof
a golden fruit falls down
and out come the knives
for outcome of fight
and outcome of fight
decides the seed:
the book.

In the book,
the bloodshed of the other
knife has never mattered
In the book,
the meaning is owned
from temporary (matter)s.

It is so dual
my mind becomes its weapon,
because how do you preserve linearity
with multiplicity?
Every second, the knives sharpen.

The mother

100 poems/52 weeks challenge’ 2018

Art credits:

I wonder if
roots growing from the ground–
the mother,
relish in her own irony,
cycles of unabashed hubris,
that render us all in pain
and then, we are cynical
in laughter with everything that has gone by
in acknowledgement
to the mother
who took us underneath
before we could even be born
and so
we make a father out of her in revenge,
in her own clay.

Everything about everything

100 poems/52 weeks challenge’ 2018

Image result for apple surrealism

By  René Magritte

Imagine a cotton-yarn sun
–all before the six days–
as it sat in absolution
like an apple in a still life painting

until the yarn spelled out
the threads became different
and people like words
had to be understood as different,
and in this uttered fission,
the woman without language
always remembered the fruit
which she could only bear
in more and more difference.

In the webs of the yarn
happened a day,
when the wires tangled so,
started moving backward into a fusion.

In this, the people who walked like words
fussed with a lack of voice,
with their right hands
they burnt all the new dictionaries
that had said
everything is everything.