Friday, June 19, 2015

I'm bored

I'm bored.
I'm getting too many abstract ideas about everything in the world.
I'm bored.
I have work to do.
I'm bored.
It's raining.
It's raining heavily.
I want to paint birds on the wall.
Sitting on electric wire.
But shouldn't they be flying in open sky.
But they must also be getting bored of flying.
I'm bored.

The frames we carry in front of our faces.
just like Jesus carried a cross on his back.
But he was hung on it.
And these frames have no walls to be hung upon.
The walls that could have birds painted on them.
The paintings of bored birds I did when I was bored.

Do you get bored too?
Do you blabber?
Do you fly like birds and sit on wires when bored.

It's a poem!
Poems don't have a counter point.
They just go on and on and on.
And create a sea and dip in to it.
And strangle their own words and gasp for meaning.
Poems are not of their poets
Poems are of no one.
They're rude.
They're lonely.
They're bored.
Shit I'm bored.

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