Complexity Poems

Some say less is really more, or is it more is really less. I believe both to be true. The future screams towards us faster every day. The pace and complexity of life quickens. Technology more pervasive. The human psyche

” If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first create the universe.” —Carl Sagan It’s all in there, waiting, just waiting in the time before time, the universe, our universe, packed unimaginably tight, indistinguishably tight,

A man’s choice for imperfect specialty Devoid a woman’s continued quest for security Likewise the two waters in diversity. He believes compromise leads to serenity To the long-haired nothing but a fallacy Then why do the waters co-exist in harmony?

I, the most perfect syllable in the world. It encapsulates me and all that is mine And all that I perceive or have perceived, All that I encountered or experienced, the Totality of my existence and its meaning To me

Will the Twenty First Century be the end for Homo Sapiens? Can human minds and psyches stand up to the speed of change being metered out? Today, we make more decisions in a day than were made one hundred years

How I chose to live my life. I’m wired at birth, my personality in place. I’m sculpted as a youth my environment had its say. The combination of both molded me as artists molds clay. With all this in place

We live in a universe of subatomic particles, the building blocks of everything else. All we can see and touch is made up of the stuff. Even in the seemingly empty void of space science tells us virtual particles pop

I watch the world go by, From my position at its periphery, I ask each day, For a sign, a message, Something to turn the senseless into the meaningful. My thoughts turn inward, My being aches with the pain of

Where do they come from? The brain is complex, of that there’s no doubt. Neurons, synapses, dendrites and axions, all woven together to make up our brain Somehow, from this complex mess we emerge, our consciousness our mind, all this

What does it look like? What does it sound like? How does it read? Is there beauty in mathematics? Are physics formulations beautiful? Is artistic beauty in all its forms discovered or created? Did Newton invent his mathematics or did

I know at the moment you can’t see a good outcome arise But with given time you will be alright, you just need to realise Realise how special you are, the caring, sharing soul you can be Let beauty on

Freddy the flea moved in here with me, and his family were queued up behind. I said ‘it’s a cheek’, but he looked pretty bleak, so I said c’mon in’ ‘cos I’m kind. In they all trotted, and now they

The clouds compete, the sky gate The sun shouts, the moon waits! Tasted a bit of sweet success Gleaned through eyes, like a bird that left its nest! An aroma never sniffed, billowing from up top The trees stand stiff,

Glistening and glimmering, the stars do shine Scattering forth their beams divine Their light, not bright, yet a mystical sight Blessing the earth on this cool breezy night A prelude to a bright new day Slowly and silently comes a

When honeycomb started dripping, he stopped eating and climbed a sand dune for the last journey.Pall-bearers were ready for blunt futurism ceding to a deliberate defeat. Hunger was his turbulent empire, resting his hands on the shoulders of rocked time

And the years end to which end! Walking into the mist Trying to find life in a gist Exposed in the nights of yesterday Prancing in the lights of today Freedom we seek Our hearts we speak, We, the ones

Amongst these thriving shadows, Those shades cimmerian, My aspirations turn to ashes. Multitudes of darkness, Ascend. My hope dying in it’s wake, This darkness assumes itself. In this perpetual mourning, This anguish, This butcher of souls, Slays. Unassailable ordeals, Absolve.

God loves us, He loves us because we are Made in His holy image, claimed and called By the God of the world and all of the universe Made to love God and to follow and trust Him To believe

Curled up in the blanket of dim-light hours, Shadows overreach, closing the gap of every enclosing hour. The gentle waft that had me swoon , Drew me into a cup of steaming brew, Lips damp with the brush of froth,

I am a nomad of thousand unsettled dreams. a leaning tower of tortoises approaching to my shore to lay their eggs of pain and prickles. a seagull fetched her paranoiac food from my bleeding liver . let me sleep on

I don’t think you should go where everyone has been before Sitting on the fence makes no sense It’s either a yes or no And I think you should do what no one has done before Blaze your trail Don’t

A hesitant day for fat men and old women moving cautious but still slamming out the door and like infidels calling down a brace of ice spears exposed necks and those rounded shoulders so tender overloaded bodies knocked down stunned

I recognized the vitriol. There was blood on your hands. The invisible was burning in dark. This was the black moon and this was the alienation. An animal climbs on your shoulders. It goes on and on. Was it the

Come and I will let you love me too, Make it short and fine till it interests, Till the white old hair on my chin Stings your core to despise and move far. Make love with lather on your hands

Someone dropped a gun in the crowd – it clattered like candy garish glare of night-time marquees scent of every onion in the world sautéing adults walking on, a mobile forest of legs intent on getting somewhere doing something a

Lessons and learnings exist in stories and tales ; in trees and flowers ; in oceans and whales ; But to no avail, Till we realise life does not move from milestone to milestone, But crawls through challenges and daily

Trying to keep myself sane; lost in choosing between two lovers Just like someone telling me to choose an easier death; suicide or murder I’m unconscious trying to figure out my right piece Lost in between two characters I am

Dear Pain, Thank You……………….. For holding me in your soft hands when the mundane world ditched me, For caressing my untouched soul when the crooked world shot poison leaded arrows at me, For standing with me and facing the brunt

Turns me on I will write a poem. Delirious moon had picked me up from under the skin. The safety pin was broken, now a crowd will disrobe me. Everytime when my pain makes you cry oranges are not meant

I will not let another person tell me Why we’re here from some book from off his shelf, Or buy the stuff some holy Joe would sell me. I’ll try to figure that out for myself So don’t try fear.

Who closes the curtain? Sometimes a crazy wind. Who is paths washes? Rain is often. Sometimes tears,my darling. Why extended the night? Why want to sleep? Tired hearts. Sometimes dreams brings our desire Questions ends when? Who knows? You don’t

Grant me freedom, the freedom of choice. Freedom to be born and the freedom of voice. Give me the freedom to do things on my own, Give me the gift of confidence, when I am little and when I am

I never knew the meaning of Love; Until I met you my dove. The moment I saw and heard you; I feel for you. You treated me as a friend; I treated you more than a friend. Finally, the day

Photo by The Cleveland Kid I must admit, I have a good life. I go to a good college, I have pretty good grades, And every day I can look forward To socialising with my many friends, Talking about whatever

“I am pure blue-blood”, said he, “as pure as it can get.” of the tall, fair, handsome varieties. Twice over I despised him but managed but a smile, as he deviously managed to convey his derision for us darker-skinned commoners.

Midnight in the Rose Garden, in the shadow of the moon’s Shadow well, I retrace the paths we used to walk back to That moon-flower covered two storey gazebo…I climb the Stairs again to the top that overlooks the deep

Come Naga, come: from the scented tree and spread out your hood. I will pull you down on my lips One day. Classical porn, Neanderthal. In your stark nakedness I wanted an asylum. A place guiltless, hands blackened, moony face,

When I flew into a storm my words collided with thunder and stars fell on ashes of dead. I wanted to scream. Seeking a freeze on past.Future was stretching its arms. A calling.Erratic explosions? The ruins were becoming worthy of

I see a future of war And evil dissent Of poverty and famine And dark discontent A world descended Into desolate gloom All joy and laughter Chased out of the room I see helpless children Lining wasted streets Tattered, just

Something was not polite in signs. The smell of incarcerated bed of gods was floating down. A subdued shadow of the black moon was climbing on the window. And each house had offered a son, to rage a war of