The Joker

It has begun
And it has a gun
Oh! What fun!
Oh! What fun!

With a tricky spin
And a sneaky grin
It has begun
To drown my sun

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Noumenon - 2

Titanium reinforced armor adorns my unrestrained wrath
I have slain every miracle that ran towards your aid
I refuse to carry this burden into oblivion
The burden of mistakes I have reluctantly made

Scimitars of demolition I chain to my hands
As this demonic hour passes through the night
For too long to my love I have owed this debt
I have no choice; unto death I shall fight

I await ragnarök with the sound of critters in my ears
And rattlers whisper to tell my sorry old tale
Of how your contagious insanities slaughtered my love
As the lord turned deaf at the sound of my wail

Like a madman I wandered in these infinite woods
For light years that stood afore our reunification
I had resolved to seek out vengeance divine
And allowed my impetus this minor modification

And now I am your greatest enemy
And now I am Noumenon’s death incarnate
I’ll tear through your flesh like you tore through my dreams
You’re driven by your fears; I’m driven by my hate

Inevitability stares with a death gaze at me
I’ve erased all borders between you and your rape
Summon your slain warriors and call all your beasts
Your fall is certain, there is no escape.

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Noumenon - 1

O! brazen lords of philosophy,
And dacoits of every single natural emotion,
You are the creators of conspiracy theorists,
You are the lust in the savant’s devotion

Illegitimate children of Nostredame you are,
And devil worshippers just don’t compare,
To the evil you hold within your souls,
To the grin behind these faces austere

No exodus can depict your arrival,
Neither will one denote your fall,
No evidence screams of your existence,
Nothing’s a proof, except my gall

Minions and slaves of your amphibious gods,
Tried to devour me in epochs past,
I chained them and hung them inverted from the sky,
And this time I’ll administer the rectal mast

“Noumenon!, Noumenon!” I hear your chant,
As you are Romanticizing your malevolent designs,
Fearless, my mind bestows upon me now,
Every deterrent my conscious consigns

Prepare for combat, you unworthy foes,
I want a war no less than you desire,
Let’s leave behind some stories of gore,
A history in blood, never fails to inspire.

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Imaginary Mistakes

All my friends are victims
Of profound psychological problems
Severe conditions, where generative genitals
Spray the walls of their minds with nymphomaniacal tendencies
In pink and blue and in a rainbow hue
And, termitic instincts to fuck viscerally crawl up
Dementia is soon a hostage in a Stockholm syndrome situation,
Jacob climbs the ladder as jack once did over a beanstalk
But it’s not all birds and bees, no,
It’s spiritual, transcendent, non-physical, meta-physical
And I relish the stories all my friends have to tell me
More than I enjoy their other aural smut
And for an infinitesimal moment in time
I am unable to extricate between the thus depicted products
Of my self-inflicted and illusionistic delusions
Time relapses as the cosmic boom in my mind
Implodes and turns into a ball of brushed sheet metal
And explodes again to unglue my eyelids
from the blotting paper of dreams
Which find their long lost focus in the intense glare of the evening sun
I ask mother what time it is.
It’s 6 in the evening. The sun behaves like my last lover
Begging me to let go of her arm, so she could go home
And like the common covetous Romeo, I,
Ask for but one last kiss; or here, at least a promise of dawn
And all my friends are gone now
I wipe my eyes clear of memories and other filth
Take one more quick glance at the sun and allow it’s departure
So that I may rhapsodize my enthusiasm to my friends again
And let them know - that I don’t believe
In their Imaginary existence;
To me they’re as real as love

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Three Tibetan Travellers

One Tibetan monk and one Tibetan monkey
Ride across Tibet on one Tibetan donkey
Across the valleys and o’er snow-capped crags
The weight of these simians their sorry ass drags

‘Tween monasteries and pagodas their wisdom they spread
The donkey eats shit while they feast on bread
And on sacred themes the primates debate
In psychobabble to which the donkey cannot relate

Through gulches and gullies and in every village
‘cross every prosperous and failing tillage
They forewarn against the good lord’s wrath
And insist on plodding of the middle path

Arguably they’re queried by many a peasant
The answer to these queries is seldom pleasant
Treading the middle path requires the kind of discipline
To which these lowlife heathens aren’t really akin

And this crystalline discipline reflects in their actions
For whenever the solution is apportioned in odd fractions
The middle one they will impetuously choose
And blame it on Buddha should their conscious refuse

Now it so happens, that they come afore a pass
This Himalayan foothill that's beset with tall grass
A decision now lies ‘tween them and their grails
For the path ahead diverges in three different trails

The right towards prosperity and the left towards doom
And the middle one to an avalanche that’ll sweep them like a broom
After much contemplation their decision stands bold:
To take the middle path just like Buddha had told

But the mule is frozen, he’s cold and afraid
He is no more a part of this fanaticism’s parade
When no amount of kicks and curses seem to work
The monkey finally calls him an ass and a jerk

And decides to endure the journey on foot
And the monk follows too; his intelligence kaput
The donkey now watches his two unkind friends
As they meet their horridly deserving ends

As onwards he marches towards the right way,
Where he hopes to find some of the finest hay
He wonders perhaps in reason’s abatement:
Why Buddhism is such a big fashion statement

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Suddenly your eyes; seem don’t seem as lewd
And your kisses taste like hospital food
Thought we came here to make love to each other -
But now all we’ve got is this fiery feud

What your mouth gives my mouth receives
Just your passive, pathetic, puked-up peeves
Suddenly the descant that played in my head -
Starts sounding like the sound of rustling leaves

I try to bury this hatchet of hate
And in jelly of patience let my love insulate
But suddenly your intentions of leaving are evident -
As are my intentions of blaming it all on fate

We’re trapped in this undertow of the falling tide
And all the forces against us, have staunchly allied
Suddenly I’m not the knight in shining armor -
And suddenly you’re not my benevolent bride

My visions of a flawless future stand re-arranged
As all your demands become discreet and deranged
And I realize this as you walk out my door -
How suddenly my whole life has changed

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