ethnography

we are mirrors.
water.
grass.

The tip that grazes
an ecstatic breeze
is the root.

and the fortress lies
in its foundations.

every speck of the vision
is an explosion
of our own shadows.

we nod cinematically;
in hypnotic roam
between two interfaces;

two beating hearts

of synthetic fire.

Our noses follow
the smell
of a slowly gathering song

that is the collective sigh
of a people rising in revolution

Hallabol!

Says Kabir.

Suno bhai saadho…

…inme kaun deewana

 

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About teevramadhyam

'I became insane with long intervals of horrible sanity' -Poe
This entry was posted in #poemaday, angryfix, community, Could be verse, epiphany, I Quote, I want to ride my bicycle, It is written, middle class mithya, poetry, the apocalyptic real, Uncategorized and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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