An Era Of Clandestine Golden Coins


These days we see it differently
The ambiance of the sun is spotting
She is bleeding afternoons differently
Like a dove’s flight in a countryside late afternoon
The pictures are about breeze

In the city with an empty stomach
Always aching for the frequency of nature
It’s a heathen country, to be born in Beijing
The drinking waters’ contents are secret to us
Chancing to query at the impossible odds

I ask for directions, in a direction-less world
With only the scripts they give us
These days I see it differently
When am I to find the higher way
When the world is a sold-out search engine

It reminds me of death, the corporate-system
These people will be replaced with clones
And will not know the difference, believing
Themselves to be unique, it’s a different genealogy
I know more kinsman left by love unconditionally

Their lives a routine of pre-defined conditions
Everyone has become a fill-in, like migrant workers
Beautiful women barter the calendar of every day.