Short Habituated Poems

Habituated in a rain-spell
Crowned which lesson to bide
Is with relief, as bright-faced
Sky-bursts the other side

Bear, too, this short episode
Down-weeping, for sorrow
Can you, in just the same way;
Matching what does follow....

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Bedazzled in a opaque beauty, trapped deep within the colossal caverns of 
senseless agony.
Lie await the nefarious to bestow, conjuring assailing flames.
The hindered habituated set free above all inversely to conquer, retake reality...

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I'm sorry for being a bright blue sky ,
stretched out for you to fly.
I'm sorry for being a bright orange sun,
to which your days had begun.
I'm sorry that the earth is brown,
and you were too down to see,
how majestic the purple flowers sprout.
I'm sorry that your bed is lofty now,
for the ones who made it,
 knew not how, 
how badly your back ached.
for you were already habituated to
the hardness of this low concrete life....

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Red beacon, burnished landmark

Rustic domiscile, ruddy stable


Sentinel on the scenic route

Natural redoubt with primitive clout


Wooden canvas, organic sculpture

Unvarnished facade with homespun charm


Fabricated equine loft

Habituated shelter for rodent, fowl


Free-flowing form in static realm

Leased to the fertile land you adorn


Pastoral heirloom, cherished monument

Essential dwelling, nostalgic mold...

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habituated to joy currents
we encourage bliss magnetism
to dance within our body as it likes
but it's pain that we choose to resist
and therefore feral residue yet remains
within feeble form, as delusion unresolved

just like the unshapely jagged rock
we prefer the river's gentle caress
that smoothens edges over time
minding not laboured breathing
in our decaying organic form
the slow path, definitely
why then complain

14-December-2022...

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Born into a culture,
conditioned by belief,
we pray as we are told,
deepening delusion,
from birth till we grow old.

Born into a culture,
following ritual,
we trust the holy book
but if we pause to think,
we’ll see we were mistook.

Born into a culture,
we’re habituated 
to feeling we are right 
and all others are wrong
but have we seen the light?

Born into a culture,
we just follow the herd,
asking not who we are,
as that that transcends form,
our soul’s luminous star....

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