• Vol. 08
  • Chapter 02
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Through countless hands it reaches me each morning
Passing as bucks to be stopped at the doorstep of gullible fools
Erudite and thinking men in high plush offices,
Men with thoughtful eyes arrange words strategically on white sheets
Such that the monochrome letters appear to reflect colors of the world
Dished out like a cake from an oven, hot, fresh and awaited
It is in fact a magic mushroom that pops out
Of the debris of fabrications and stories hushed up, brushed under
‘Will cause serious illusions regarding reality’ – they never give warnings

Every day, it tapes itself to my eyes and covers my mind
I can’t see light, just lies dancing in front of my eyes
I can’t hear a word, just half-truths burbling into my ears
Fighting for a way out as a player in a game of blindfold,
I try to track light like trapped in a derelict mansion
The silver lining is, I still have my lips untaped
So, I indulge in the sin; I commit the contemptuous act –
I open my mouth and ask
Shoot questions as sharp as arrows
Fire opinions as hitting as bullets
I think, I probe, I analyze, I speak, I ask
I deny versions of truth; no, nopes, naw, nein
I refuse to accept the common lies in circulation
So what if my eyes and ears are stuffed with their words?
I will still open my lips and
Ask questions
And more questions.