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Democracy

Watch them sticking together
poster in hand
knife in heart

Laugh at them moving together
in the last frontier of a democracy
The city square
The extraordinary marketplace
the emblem of a freedom yet not stolen
The only place where the town can gather
and see other human beings
Buy.

The park, the lawn
Where talk need not be surveyed
And collective demonstration can still be deemed
meaningful.

Where marathoners run
and cancer activists walk
prostitutes stand at night
old women talk
Poets stare at the glamorous magnification of chaos
that is the city.

Beggars die everyday
Drunkards lie
Revolters die occasionally
in a theatrical way
In death is the point they make
for the living.

The only response you can have
is to hold hands and walk
No ear is waiting
No complaint is read
All your complaints are uni dimensional
Unaddressed, unanswered, glorified.

Don't forget to take the whole kit:
Sheets, markers, hatred
Canes, candles and matches
Well chosen words and as a vehicle -
some hope.

Democracy has bestowed on you
the precious ability to vote one out of an oligarchy
of criminals.
The precious privilege to come out in protest,
be gassed and laughed at
and die.

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लाल वस्तू

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angry

my grandmother used to spot in us a hereditary anger the chest learning to well up blood learning to leap and breath learning to crawl foreheads burning with heat of little children the attempt of anger to become disgusting raging energy that will occupy every living stream. nobody wants to hold an angry person rage drunk, getting bigger and bigger until other people are invisible like ants and you can dissolve them in your hot blood and things around you break and shatter at this point she would hold. a violent hand shaking her away Ya I remember my grandmother used to spot it in us as children already And hold our hand "until you get over your rage I will not let go of your hand"  hold VERY TIGHTLY "I will not leave your hand until you learn how you should calm down" i would fail despite that gesture  to understand what was happening and i could not receive love at that time because i have so much anger But the act she is doing is still that of HOLDING

Numbers

I know now the minute at which the sun sets and rises When I'm nervous I know the speed at which my heart runs when it floods I know the amount of water that overflowed in cusecs. The number of animals that are alive within some species The degrees by which the earth is heating and the exact amount of diminished magnetism. I have recorded the day and the time the GPS co-ordinates of when we grew apart the number of letters in goodbye as a faithful accountant of the heart I have no numbers on my loneliness the degree by which expression dumbed down and smiling and frowning became more similar like interpolated homotopic lines coefficients of a grey space of feelings.