I cannot pretend, that
I am not seeing television
The screen of which is switched off
I could see the reflections
of my ceiling fan revolving, mapping
its shadow on the opposite muted walls
These news, these shop operas
Don’t hold me dear
I am not talking about George Floyd, or
of a pregnant elephant gulping pineapple crackers within
I am my own “I can’t breath”;
I am my own dead trumpet
I have my own friendship
“Friendship with none”
I am the cast away man
Running after my own reflection.
Hold me a nonentity
Balkanization of my thoughts
Contemporary events and striking imagery, underline man’s existential crisis.
So much thanks dear Sir Vijay Nair Jee!
Ever challenging,ever surprising,this author’s work continues to split asunder the carapace of our own quotidian indifference.
So much thanks for thy precious comment dear Sir Louis Kasatkin!
Microcosm and Macrocosm……….all men lead the same battle, inner and outer……..wonderful creative piece!
The writer in a charming way expresses his desire to disenchant himself from the brutual inhumanities we are forced to watch day in and day out.