Heart Controller

Age with infamous Time and a bit of coincidence, Led to the twisted establishment of rare people, Soon to become in moralities: identical, forgetful, In imaging techniques: extraordinary, deplorable, In personality: questions and absolute confusions, Many whom I have walked past; none have I met, And so I be, a person shaped into another being, These long-lasting writing have almost tricked me, No further will I generate a personality out of me, Personifying a personification I found on the streets, If so be it, me - an individual of you, quite homeless. Sunday, 19th of June 2011

Haah , a circular trend on a transparent window, A dot here and another with a concave up; smile, Haah , a bigger geometrical shape yet so similar, A heart and a moment of calm, nothing to recall. Haah , boredom overcame my numb emotions, Wiping the window with two fingers; very chilly, Haah , this time onto my fine fingertips to warm, Then gazing outside at tonight’s busy city streets. Haah , a talented sigh measuring pitch of sounds, The driver on my left, a friend, took a right turn, Haah , it was his’, louder with a deep emphasis, I guess he was tired of driving for a day’s journey. Sunday, 12th of June 2011

I observed my kind hands for over twenty-three years, But not as erudite as in the past four exquisite weeks, I touched the high ceilings and walked on warm roofs, Or so I tried as if no books to read or learn or lecture, Rather, reasons did encircle the everlasting calligraphy, Thus, under today’s wise men I pursue deep footprints, With the delicate women’s hands in the field observing, Together, an elegant team; hand unit at Sydney Hospital. Tuesday, 7th of June 2011

His questions came out of nowhere as if now and here, I stood on a wooden bridge in the middle of somewhere, Yes, it was here and now that his power and pride rose, Against the vulnerable circle of life living another century. He asked me about the twelve months of our short year, I answered with alphanumerical equations signifying nil, Yes, short but nothing of great importance for his likes, To him life and death are but particles of grains of sand. He asked me about twenty four hours and a day’s misery, Rather rhetorical, or that what it seemed for I was silent, Yes, hours of rhetorical movements of his limbs on lands, And slaves of the fields invade this little wooden bridge. Wednesday, 1st of June 2011

He insisted on calling towards me, I, on the other hand, was focussed, Onto a being of colourful canvas, He went to greet her as I walked, The little girl with a pearl earring, He opened his mouth as to speak, I shut it awkwardly gazing distantly, His urge let him hum a long song, As I walked across the idle street, He twitched and glimpsed back, He shook my body aggressively, And tried to detach for a second, Excruciating pain causing numbness, But without any fruitful outcome, Tamed into a domestic kitten, Hugging for a forgotten memory. Wednesday, 25th of May 2011

He turned a page, read for a bit, then bookmarked it, He then stood and knocked on the door; my door, I opened it and invited him to a cup of tea with milk, He took a step then stood still and opened his mouth, I tilted my head just a bit to show that I will listen, But he closed it and continued walking to the table. I sat on the carpet crossing my legs as he did, too, He folded his arms as if cold then picked up the cup, And sipped whilst glaring at me through the steam, He placed the teacup back to its saucepan, ‘cling’, He opened his mouth and spoke of the past; history, I fixed few errs and agreed on many series of events. He spoke of tomorrow and I disagreed on everything, He spoke of marriage, of weddings and a bit of love, He spoke of copious grandchildren and a bit of love, He spoke of age and time and death and a bit of love, His warm proud gaze broke itself into the self of me, Aware of the mirror in front of me as I take another sip. Tuesday, 24th of Ma...

“Him, I, he, it, and is will become one or two!” Have I written this down so many times before, And so did he, a person, an entity of all names, I went further as I did before and listened, hmm? Things of distinct value referring back to him, He, on the other hand, had an awkward hand, Moving as I show significant control and power, Yet, he tries and wonders – still does – he or it, To him I am I, and I am but my own dictator, He assumes that I always walked on his path, Inadvertently, it is he who constantly follows, Him, he, it or I, an entity of all names, so rare! Monday, 9th of May 2011