seaboyman ~ poetry

Junglee

If dream was a man- he'd be a woman-

She an elephant escaping smuggle-

Is the thermocol still behind the almirah-

Teal- mirror so old- has learned flattery-

Paint- off- artistry of metal patches exposed-

stunt turnip- crosseyed tapir-

the thermocol is still there-

good, get it out- and get out is a little adventure- one could

get seizures by walking from one room to another too fast-

will happen- if let- four year-olds pick colours- discounts choose watts-

It is out- great, rough it up like a surfboard something- inhale the white gash-

it's good for allergies- cause not cure-

Cold- cold hotter hot- just about- hot hot trumpet-

let me join, you junglee, on the thermocol raft-

Water spouting- buffaloes are just noses above water- water everywhere-

Infinity is at every corner- but a waterfall just ahead- and fire

at its heart- where the beings of the hypnagogic consciousness are being buried

in a wall- the brick is water- and as the mason fixes- it is fluency and you cannot put your head through it-

wonderful, you do not wake up-

the elephant is shot dead.

~Ajay
14/12/18