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Stream of Consciousness

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I have long forgotten what it feels like to write in proestry, a language which carries no inhibition, no restrains, but the cheerful flow of ardent thoughts in all shapes and forms. No syntax, no grammar rules, but the natural flow of feelings and emotions gushing out from the innermost self.

My inspiration was one little girl who had the mind to break free from convention. I learned from her that it’s all about letting your thoughts and imagination run wild and free.

As I write this piece a little squirrel scurries on the roof beam gnawing at the wood and looking anxiously cautious. Prying on me once in a while to check whether my moves can cause a threat.

I have grown sick and tired reading it from top to bottom and so let the menacing grammar errors remain as they wish, for I shall stride forward in this stream of consciousness. This chilly weather might be the reason why I’m feeling all up to write and write and write all day long, and even dance and sing sometimes with the doors closed. The reason why I feel romantic and poetic, the reason why I feel I can do much better than yesterday and day before. And the rhymes, my god, it comes with so much ease. Words fail me but not so my feelings, if there be no words to describe what I feel, then… then I shall make my own.

I Found love in a hopeful place

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How much I cherish the moment
when I hold you in my arms,
fondling you,
turning you teasingly
back and forth
stealing my fingers behind your back
tightly pressing you
against my heart.
Your scent, exotic,
is unlike any other
enough to make me drown
in a pleasurable euphoria.
I see the world, nay,
the universe through you;
I finally found love
not in these creatures
of a bizarre reality
but between your smooth pages
of surreal beauty.

Food Chain

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The Eagle is an octopus in disguise,

winding its slithering tentacles,

around my country, my world,

smothering and feeding on its life;

the next door Neighbour,

is no better than a traitor,

who left us in the lurch,

I heard them say,

“when politics come in the door,

friendship flies out the window”;

the Dragon creeps,

to slay its slayers,

in ‘ninja’ style,

making its way through us;

the malnourished Miracle of Asia,

is in midst of  a chalk circle,

about to get its limbs split.

Could there be

a greater punishment,

than this?

Fate is cruel,

Food chain is crueler still.