The sliced white of a fruit,

like a metaphor to

the urban dreams, lie unsurrendered 

under the gaze of greed. 


The graveled park of a path,

like a child that ran 

its field of dreams before

the Steel Gods baptized the brain.


The split glory of Kingdom,

a memory from the future

that Inceptionalized

the self-prophesizing modernity.


The removed past of an era,

a neon-tavern for Dionysus

that inebriates with a glance

the shop, shopper and stop.


The buck from the dollar,

a dime, a penny alike

the scythe of the rupee

scalloping scoops, souls.