English: Cathedral cliff edge (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Come dance with me
My legs are itching
I have this disease
That makes the soul scratch
Let’s step up and stomp down
Feel the mood rise
Let’s savour the groovy moment
Like a delicious foreplay
Don’t let the music stop
Don’t give the man release yet
The legs itch and soul scratch
And we dance to that rhythm
It’s not time to quench this fire
Let us take it higher still
It may add colour to the climax
And the disease may find its cure
Maybe we will dance so well
And lose ourselves to the rhythm
Our souls dying at the climax
As we drown in the melody
Till we tango off the edge of the cliff!
I am seeing things and not “seeing things”.
I am committed to this obsessive act now.
It’s a new insanity peacefully residing in my mind.
At times the madness is asleep, completely at peace with itself and my world;
Other times the madness is industrious at its peak performance.
I prowl at the cliff and peek over the edge at wonders burning in this world beyond,
So magically thrilling, the fires have got be an illusion;
Or, symbolizing the intense power and energy flowing in this world.
It’s like something birthed from a Harry Potter movie about an enchanted city,
Else how can a market exist in the centre of a burning city?
Help!!! How could I claim to be in love with this sight?
How could I leave the comfort of my home every evening,
Unafraid of being possibly caught by some spirit-guards,
To come gaze at a market which bustles with the activities
Of trading in human souls?
Over here I see an angel with the halo on his head in a golden tuxedo
Pleadingly and aggressively (at the same time) haggling over the price of this human soul.
Just beside him is a demon dressed coolly as a business man in a dark misty suit
ALSO aggressive with the right mix of subtle premium evil intentions.
Each acting as though the other were not there; fully focused on the business at hand –the human.
The seller is the … HUMAN himself!
From this distance I can’t understand all that’s happening.
But when a transaction appears to be over,
The human follows either the demon or the angel out of the market
To his fate, having sold out his power of choice.
These activities happen everyday, every moment –
Humans selling out their souls and fates
To the angel or the demon
I am just an observer
With no memory of ever being in this market.
P.S.: Pardon my digression into the details of the activities
It makes it seem like a horrid place, but it’s far from that.
The pure awesomeness of this city is part of what has thrown me into this addiction.
And, who knows, I might get away with something out of this city (the day I dare venture further)
That I can show people as proof of its existence.
Like a sloth that’s been deprived of sleep,
The night calls out to me,
Slowly but unrelentingly…
It’s Friday night and the air feels different
-loaded with pheromones.
The humans are on heat.
I wonder what exactly it is about Friday nights
That make(s) people experience hormonal tornadoes.
And I’m not just referring to ladies.
The scopists are there.
Looking for any quarry that dares come their way.
They will literally kill the game with their steeling stare.
They will smother the lady with the flaming-all-smokey desire
That pours out from them like an inferno.
May I not be a kind of prey for this voracious “lovers”.
What makes man run so crazily after something?
The hormonal plague.
Just as ladies experience the hormonal scourge, men also are no different.
True it produces different effects in those men.
They blame ladies for being emotionally unstable
When the tornado rocks their boat.
Well, the men just go out on rampage altogether
And turn cannibals with the rage of the Avatar’s fire-lord “Ozai“.
Like cockroaches who are notorious for feeding on the bodies of their fellows.
The hormonal plague comes on all.
Makes affectionate and intuitive, and calm and rational people
Act like mindless zombies!
Can we be excused and just blame it on the hormones or biological make-up?
Can it be ignored?
Meanwhile, men walk to and fro, cycle up and down, drive in their cars along the stretch of the streets;
Each carrying the hormones
As they look forward to their lovely homes with/without wives and/or children.
All in the stream of life
From my verandah.
P.S.: I know I have only stated a small part of things we do “under the influence” of our biological/genetic make-up!