sleeping in a glass box

watch out for the cross-eyed hunters,
who lived and will live in every year of history

oh yes! ask them to hear how fine the search is going
with their sharp gaze
piercing everything having lips and ears,
with their blood sloshing - almost foamy
with their pulse wafting every thought
in their designated area

see how well the search is going
they are watchdogs with hallway addiction
every shoestep is an adventure  to them
everyone is a passerby
the joy of whose sight is mistaken for insight
compassion is a forgotten note in their chant

what choice has a candle got before their breath
either booing or over cheering
enlightened tribe members

what choice have you got,
you in your glass box
with some greenery
and cool sweet water

your intuition is freaky to them
your attention cheap
oh what choice have you got
when cherishing is degrading

your admiration belittles you in their eyes
let alone causing joyful humility
but don't you ever despair
overlooked beauty in details might choke, shake
and awaken them
just like they choke everyone with their cruelty

oh yes! remembering the past could be as good news
as the possibility of knowing the future
 

Permutation

(Scene 1: 4 min - Sitting by a pond, under a willow tree with drooping branches waving, lemonade glasses on side tables, lazy summer breeze)

Grandma reads out loud slowly from the 2nd draft of a book she is reviewing -
"..Enchanted by the beauty of chromosome-like sentences that are pure art, unique strings manifesting the divine rhapsody of creation, words whirling like derwishes... meaningful gems among pebbles and plastic dices...all mouth-processed yet the magic is in the array."

Grandson murmurs, absent minded,  staring at small fish in the pond , a newspaper laid on lap -
So is that how life is supposed to be?!..Some people, some events, some emotions...accumulated in your shoulder bag, and constant analysing under your one-of-a-kind hat..once you are done here the bag and the hat are left on the counter called, justice!?

Grandma adds -
loveful justice my dear, loveful. Hopefully.

Grandson sighs -
I saw the most disturbing dream last night...emancipotary at the same time

Grandma straightens her back as she takes off her reading glasses -
Interesting! Tell me about it, darling, for I saw a disturbing one myself
 

Pendulum

Sum of daily tragic acts
and pollination of ill intentions, moreover
this terrible collective memory of ours
make the deaf, old, swallon globe
a lump in the universe's throat

such a relief, however:
sewer filth and rain clouds
sit in the same giant bubble

just like the sight from a prison window
of pigeons bathing
and grass growing