Secrets

As I walk in wide-eyed wonder, I explore the soot-filled nooks
Unravelling the secrets of life through untold stories
And every fragment of what was brought together
Makes me wonder what brought me to life
The blossoming sexuality, the natural boisterousness
And unfulfilled desires of every human being I meet
On their quest for happiness

Amidst moments of hurt, hate, and heal
While preserving their traditions
Under the onslaught of modernism
Triggers my opinions on personalities and characters
And like shockwaves of panic in a dystopian drama,
I discover the meaning of human nature
Its novelistic details, the filtered perspectives
The strictures of patriarchy and the struggles of matriarchy
It's like a comedy laced with cruelty between rain-soaked epiphanies
The comforting words, ingenuity, the barbed jokes
And the truest opinions from the boldest of souls
Souls that fight to stay alive, that march to stand their ground
Souls that gives witty commentaries
On love and loyalty, money and social classes
On races and religions, dilemmas and conundrums
And on my occasional slip into the realm of melodrama
I realise that life, with its mishaps, is just a practical magic
A drunk night of fries and margaritas
A middle finger protest and feminist treatise
An epic journey alongside a broody convict
And at times, an opportunity to sink
Into the psyche of a single-minded survivor
A singular vision and an individual suicide
But how true are they - these secrets of life?
And how perceptive are we with one secret after another?

-PRK-

Vessels In Line

So I found myself turning to pot likker
Not once, not twice, and the standard is gold, not silver
It's always a new taste, a new mix, a new remedy
For the same wound, the same scar, the same tragedy
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I asked myself
But there's never an answer better than the top shelf
The vessels are there, I never meant to have them
They keep flowing and I'm too weak to stop them
If I could let it go, I wouldn't turn to one
But I need to stay high to not think of you even once
What have you done?
No. Sorry, what have I done?
It was served on ice and garnished with pineapple
It was cold, it was sweet, it was everybody's pleasure in quadruple
They looked happy and so I thought I would too
But when the hangover begins, I began to miss you
At least I thought I was missing you
Or was I trying to be you?

-PRK-