kiln

heat, pressure quite uncomfortable and clay screams, shouts, revolts makes no pretense that this torture is quite unwanted, meanwhile wallflowers sit idly by with wind pass through, gently swaying to the ebbs and sighs of each passing generation they do not protest nor stomp on streets to make themselves heard, hear, hear the white elephant trumpets, growls, roars when not enough attention goes around even though the limelight is focused on this silly trinket where buyers edge away with a promise more like a red herring because the ones that burn the most have become shrewd from whippings, scorns, life's lessons not to be mistaken from idle luxury never earned. larger shadows loom over smaller ones, darker pigments discolor the less vibrant, less showy, less depth in the swimming pool and the refraction is a trick played on eyes while eager ambitious swimmers struggle to make sense of bottoms not found, legs kicking, panicking to water drank with lungs not comprehending liquid, an ill form indeed to sputter out: trying to make sense of how and why a crocodile cries even as it chews on meat of fallen humans unable to make peace with idealism taught in books, not fulfilled when life's experience changes meaning: the sirens lapped at wounds, numbing pain from inflicted wounds, more, more the tortured cried out as numbness meant stasis, as the merciless crocodile chewed on meat now gone into one belly full and the languid animal fell asleep on wallflowers that took in what the tide gave, neither protesting nor lamenting, unaffected for they were not the spectacle, hanging on the beams --- indifferent, uncolorful, alive. the forest is dense with seed, canopy and life seeking life, cries mimic preys, predators while the runners dash by to grab another drink to complete this harsh marathon with sweat cascading down warm bodies, their song is strong, eager, reaching towards the end, what end? of exhaustion, or collapse from a heart disease soon to be made known, fear is not around when endorphin is pouring through veins, then the blades sliced through air, weaving together white elephants, painted dolls, somber knights, sirens, thieves and heroes altogether, then the pieces elongated, shrunk, flattened in the kiln that groaned, moaned and heaved, sputtered out contents of spotted whites, elephants, thieves that sung like sirens, sirens that clawed with knives, knights that joked endlessly about satires, dolls that had more human elements in them than men. they all walked the streets at nights, at noon, in the evening but the flags they carried and the words spoken were foreign, could not be recognized, till the midnight bell sounded again, again and again, of a universe manufacturing machinery churning out toys that were made of dreams, nightmares and yesterday's idealism.