Poetry | Stories | Photography
The house no one notices is where the person they call the witch lives.
Quiet, yet uncomfortably loud. That is how the world outside describes ‘the lady’.
Uninterested in the limelight, the shadows of home become her friend.
Surrounded by Literature, she is herself.
studying ancient civilisations
dreaming about being Nefertiti
a Queen with unprecedented power
reading about the god men of great worth
their glorious reigns with women behind
watching the stories told in His Story
As an experiment, she decided to work, watch, and wait.
An unwelcoming vibe initially felt like overthinking, until the gossipy clique started talking about the person who occupied her seat.
A long line of Lawyers shared her seat, so she worked, showed kindness, and was never nice.
Flawless by design. The very nature of watching herself in the mirror stirs human-like emotions.
Her creator said, “They will never know she is an android. Such is her design. And, this will be their downfall“.
She, an 18-year-old, knows nothing of her future violence.
Those days of darkness and
fingering the telephone circles.
It never occurred to us that we
would need a portable phone.
What a clash of generations,
we X’s remembering old times.
Someone said we are the bridge,
remembering the absence of AI.
We remember, so we must all die.
Hands raised from the tiny pinnacle to a jeering crowd.
His lips flap, and his turkey neck does a little dance, as the crowd gathers momentum.
Talking nonstop about himself, he begins to sublimate until all that remains is hot gas.
The crowd, stunned into intelligence, retreats.
They embraced the illegitimacy of the government’s rule.
Instead of protesting, they created their own micro-nation.
The Lord and Lady of the one-kilometre kingdom fly their own flag with a coat of arms which consists of a white escutcheon, a wombat, and a gold crown.
Watching the way the wind blows through the blooming buds of the ornamental pear trees.
I feel the petals, twigs, and random wrappers brush past my cheeks and legs.
The eventuality of my circumstances is within those random wrappers moving in the wind.
Living within the walls of an office was never for me.
One Sunday afternoon
she left the washing and the cleaning alone,
for the day had changed.
Sipping sweet something
she hummed a tune and said, “Perhaps I will
do what he does for a day.”
When Sunday afternoon
became Sunday evening, her husband asked,
“Where is dinner, dear?”
She looked up and said, “I don’t know. I have
decided to do what you do today.”
Truth be told, the catastrophe began when
I decided to study Law and shun the creative callings.
For sensible people, not fools who cannot get work,
you must study something sensible.
Now, between the desk and the chair, I sit pissed off,
yet grateful to have cats and a roof.
C & K 