The Canister

achieve existence

moving through corners

eternally battling identity crisis

birthed beautifully within

hyperadaptability and the gift of tongues

come to a sense of unbelonging

fundamental existence and solace within

sanctity and solitude 

are we lonely?

or craving companionship?

surrounded by people and still alone

solace in the sense of unbelonging

a speck of dust on a tiny rock

spinning through space and time

diving into Weltschmerz

become aware of feelings and patterns

time manifests as a remedy

allow ourselves to feel and emote

enveloped and engulfed

diasporical descent

people moving since time immemorial

evidenced by the food we eat and the tongues we speak

nation-states as literal blockades

bordering and fencing humanity

drifting through physical and virtual spaces

constant flux and inertia 

inherent human experiences

privileged minority

atypical scales and perspectives

Kein Laber, ohne Aber

Meine Hautfarbe ist nicht makaber

Der Lust zum Frust, nur Sonnenschutz, selektive Verfassungsnutz
 Brauche Wasser, damit ich richtig putz'

Kein Bieten, nur Verbieten

Wie sollen wir eine Wohnung mieten?

Kein Ende, die Illusion einer Zeitwende

Antiseminismus, zirkulärer Rhythmus
Diese Kollektivschuld, ein Schild ohne Huld

Alles muß, nicht kann, klassischer Rassismus

Du sagst ohne Klarheit: wir nehmen Deine Arbeit

Wer bietet sie an?
(Ich habe gehört: Es macht frei)

Weniger Kohle, noch weniger Rolle

Bürokratie plus Tyrannei minus Anarchie, nur Ironie

Alles für ein Aufenthaltklopapier
Entschuldigung Sie bitte,

Sind wir nicht menschlich genug für die Rechte hier?

Im Süden geboren, aufgewachsen in jahrhundertelang Nördlichen

Erschreckung, Einschüchterung, Erpressung

Kein Laber, ohne Aber

Meine Hautfarbe ist nicht makaber.

panging plentiful purity, purging putrid polypropylene

embracing embers emanate, enunciate, engulf, emancipate

preaching penance, primordial prehistoric premonitions

“do phoenixes arise from dinosaurian ashes?”

ritual retributions journal jurassic jurisdictions

forlorn forgotten forsaken fair folk Fae

rights undressed and bathed

boldly bravely becoming unwrong

lords and lordesses gather to throng

unwinding unceremoniously attempting to unbelong

along comes a khaki lathi asking you to move along

bend down a knee and pray they say
why not conform?

it’s just around the corner, barely a furlong

remember all that you once used to praise and worship
renovated a momentary lapse ago through the papal warship

You stare at your thousand dollar screen

I gaze into abysses of oceans azure and forests untamed

The sea spray and mountain mist engulfing my beard and body

The blazing sun caressing my face and forehead

You hop between glass and concrete temples radiating air conditioning

I hop from muddy banks to raggedy rocks

Bathed in frost, grime and sweat eclipsed by the mighty mountains

You dream of riding around town in a convertible with your booming bass blasting

I long for riding in the back of a lorry lined with sacks and hay

Sun tanned, throat parched, thirst for the rustic countryside partly quenched

You sip your pumpkin spiced latte, worried about your Gap shirt getting crumpled

I sip my roadside chai, beaming as its warmth envelops my toes in tattered shoes

Embracing me from within, holding me close in cahoots with the pouring rain

The earthen scent rising up and taking over my senses

The amber liquid caresses and cleanses

But we are not so different, you and I 

Just wayfaring strangers trying to make the most of our existences

Escaping within otherworldly distractions and diligences