I find whatever I write
is eluded with what I see
around me, deep linked
sieved on the fibres of the souls
of this generation.
We are whatever generation, rolling cannabis
or else dreaming about rolling them.
Our aim is to make triangles out of the smoke,
circles are meant to be broken
because we are generation whatever.
Ideas make sense out of this smoke,
life is generated out of this smoke
because otherwise we are living dead
among tall building, fast cars and heaps of metal
and electronics scraps piled like a cage around us
I, probably am been laughed at for writing
one word of truth as it just means whatever …
as long as you, me, he and she are rolling our joints
and life is an ecstasy with hollow eyes and hollow hearts.
They have their pills and you have responsibilities
and when you move around like a crazy piece of sh*t
acting like a junkie trashing your house
looking for any bad thing to give you high
because of one bad thing happened to you in life.
But nobody really cares about the future
as long as the triangles are being made out of weed smoke
and the concentric circles of puff goes up and up.
They flash cigarettes like middle finger
welcoming you to join their club
which you probably should if you want to learn to let go
So, just let go.
Why let that sad father hold on to you
or let the sick mother be a heavy deadweight to your freedom
You are born in whatever generation!
As the adults remain adults forever domineering and finical,
these pals you have gathered while following the rules of ‘Mari’
are like you also chasing freedom.
It seems everybody is just breaking bad for freedom
and I wonder if perhaps tradition is breaking free too.
You have a swamp at the left and black hole on your right,
either you care too much or you just de-humanize every aspect of the world,
What about Love?
Well, as long as you let the lovers go they will love you
as long as you watch them suffer in self-pity
they like that sh*t.
They like watching you get hurt to pity themselves as you pity them,
that’s dark — you’d tell them. They cringe or laugh at your face for being too emotional.
You either watch them listen to trending pop or slayers heavy metal.
Seems like everyone just have an opinion to act upon,
seems like everyone wants to do the right thing by themselves
as long as their freedom is intact.
Lose the dead weight, and if you can’t lose feelings, they are the heaviest thing on this planet!
I already feel super light as a hollow log easy to be dealt with
and why, now none of your actions gets my reaction!
Easy , I’m easy.
Feelings? Me ! No Sir, my ex-lover kissed me under the sycamore and left me naked in the morning,
with a Goodbye Forever Note.
All was left were his joint’s ashes and memories of the signed-out eyes of a hollow man
with dark bags under his eyes and black lips.
No, I’m not describing a monster, but a tragic lover who loved his freedom and his ways a bit too much.