The Biology Simulation 


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Life repeats herself mindlessly
So give your biology
Some presence
Unless you too want
To live on instinct
Eating, mating, propagating

Without mindfulness
Or perhaps you will go on repeating
What humans have always done
In a very mindful manner?
That too is instinct, that too
Is the brain’s dogma of self-repetition

Maybe you enjoy nature’s traditions?
We are nevertheless afraid
To live life in all possible ways
We stick to the familiar trying
To avoid disgrace, bitter, bad, dark
However, think of all the ways

You could learn by being unconventional
The sages say, experience brings maturity
So every time you refuse an experience
In a sense, it is your fear and immaturity talking
Or perhaps you are just cautious and lazy
Life is the trading on the marketplace of time
What can you give her for all she has given you?

I have no never, because of you


37

You must know what I
Do not like in ideas
That I am biology
Crude and mechanical

But as everything as
Its two sides, in reality
I love you in order to
Fulfil my biology and

Romantic notions of how
To start infinity again
Or in your womb weave
The joys of the future

You must know that I
Am passionate about the future
My love has two lives
In order to love you I must

Secure a better position
And not get too caught
In your sinking eyes
And the your charisma

The nuances of cherries
And the mischief of the fox
The grapes that you like
In the hard gold of your cheeks

And the blue limits of your goodness
The swelling equation
Beneath your breasts
You must know that I

Suffer to remain progressive
Though by instinct
Your hips are like opaque pearls
And your touch has

The timbre of feathers
Your smile has the root
Features of my favourite stars.

Intensity Enflames Me


57

I am begging inside for the sight of you
What I cannot touch, overwhelms me
I have been snared by your modesty
The gleam in your eyes scolds me

For something I have yet to do
My power is being taken by your
Seduction of coiled hidden intensity
My hard memory of our secret talks

Gives me chills in many layers of my chest
My thoughts are reflections of your trembling
Your pleas are my limits of graceful union
Our pleasure is a portfolio of lucid instinct

A frenzy of the distance between language
You are wet for the unknown steamy union
Of my firm manipulation of your arousal
A drift and swirl you from the inside

Drenched in the salty sweat of our synchronized fluidity
An aroma of citrus and lime, fragrant femininity
Washed by the ripples of your aquamarine yearning.

Photography Credit: http://browse.deviantart.com/art/cathi-28-376103370

That I Did Always Love


14

Two butterflies went at Noon
Chasing distant birds
As my heart chases the pleasure

I believe is love, the last privilege
Of meaning, Life could not convince
Me that, there were more important things

I was not logical, or cruel, or sober
A martyr-poet loses syllables
In pangs, better left unsaid…

Like a caterpillar going at Noon
Motivation has dissolved in the search
As my heart chases the unity

I believe is love, a territory of decay
Where I feel impotent to declare
Myself any lasting victory.

A Last World of Spring


13

It’s too late to cancel them now
Isn’t it? The birds of spring, sing
Like a mindful entry into the passage
Into summer, May will be coming soon

Reflected in the water of the buds
Fields of division among the twigs
It’s too late to wait up for it now

Isn’t it? The broad gestures of metamorphosis
There are no taboos in Spring
It walks into us from the inside

Sobering with sensuality, green effort
Hazards of the course of threshing floors
Of desire and clarity of impulse

It’s too late to cancel it now
Isn’t it? No more fence-sitting for us
Ambushed by the teeth of flowers

Like a perverse playroom before summer light
I can dwell here a while, to taste
The nearest stars in your liquid eyes.

Under the Hands of Art


This rapture of the colors shivering
Strikes at the heart of my instinct
I secretly want to join

The future without consequence
To flood forward with the whims
Of imaginations not born yet

To strive, astonished and irreversible
Cutting all sense of abandonment
With the infantile revolt

Of seeking the last freedom
The hidden God within the eye-of-youth
Like a revolution of pure enthusiasm

I secretly want to join
The optimistic hoards of perfect melodies
A specter of notes, proverbs of lost moons

I give myself to quantum fragments
On a green canvas I plant my hunger
As an illusion, that no longer wishes to exist.