Perfect Imperfections

I am not perfect
I am not the only one with this defect
Where’s the prefect?
Let the other names on paper reflect
Voices in my head making noise
Better not give chaos a choice

I am not perfect
Lemonade isn’t life’s only lemon product
Bitterness succumbs to sweet conduct
As I host imperfection in my chamber
Flying lemons aimed at me from January to December
Should I make lemonade out of them for others?
Or should I make myself a lemon potion for my daily wounds?

I am not perfect
They say “to err is human…”
And mistakes can make one a new man
Should I carry on?
Should I worry on?
Well, a lesson lessens lessons!

I am not perfect
My imperfection you don’t prefer
Then put on the mask of pretence
Now is there something you want to refer?
Oh the mask! Now the question I want to ask
Willing to forsake this funny identity
and bid it “Bella Ciao”?
Perfect Imperfections….

El Manolo..

read more

The Great Feast

With a cloud of rancorous belief and grey relief poised.

a bloody passover posed; allegedly retired from its millennium jaunty.

With a silent noise at a daggerpoint, oblivious minds steamed up

toxic presentation of buffet on the virus table circled with chairs,

the fluid meal made whole with rotten cells of toxins inside a globe

Preserved by a bat, or the pangolin or the faceless scum in a lab of pathogens

or the God’s handmade.

Who cares? Conspiracies regurgitated.

Death is the aroma, a cinch to the guests seated in isolation.


The global food, the great feast; pragmatically served to all and sundry

Wuhan embraces the microscopic meal with a grimace; dust raised, alarm silenced.

The guests; gluttonous globetrotters with civilized legs reached for a portion;

Gourmands grabbed their shares, homeward! It’s finished, empty plate on the centre.

Sanguinary days; shrapnel of sickness shattering lives like an incendiary cut across guests.

Vortex of pandemonium lay siege. Cacophony echoed; lock-downs and shutdowns.

Economy tumbles. Social distancing from normal routine; each human to their tenths.


Never knew the delicious food is a global sin; an accursed edible from the unknown good cook

Poisoned to end a good chunk of humans who patronized it; steals the air, apocalypse.

Humans’ tragedy turning our feast into a pandemic; respiratory sickness and death.


Is this the ultimate banquet? Or we’ve bartenders ready to serve us more?

A good guess like mine topples the days to and fro. Memories from the past;

dead ages forgotten. Purgation wet my panties, eat the crap. Violently pessimistic.

But if not our Last Supper, progenitors and posterity won’t believe

we witnessed a food war that smashes wealth, leaving health to thrive.

Like past, present and future if tomorrow is spared.

A nature’s feast or an anthropogenic cook or a supernatural spice?

Let’s leave the answer to the wise.

read more


Tomorrow assures us a glory
Celebrations of a success story
The evolution might be slow
With persistence, you can glow

On a crusade to wage a war
Against poverty to protect our ward
Nothing supersedes a pleasure
Than defeating an ugly failure

Fame can come after death
Live a life to reap your sweat
Only you can decide your fate
Choose now to eat on a silver plate

Every sky has a silver lining
Regret in life has an ending
Failure is apparently a sad story
Only perseverance can tame poverty

Let cynics remain in denial
Be bold enough to withstand any trial
Triumph against every voodoo
While breaking evil hoodoo

read more

Log In

Forgot password?

Don't have an account? Register

Forgot password?

Enter your account data and we will send you a link to reset your password.

Your password reset link appears to be invalid or expired.

Log in

Privacy Policy

Add to Collection

No Collections

Here you'll find all collections you've created before.