Poem, poems, poetry

FEMALNESS

I cannot solve the puzzle of my soul

Maybe I am an infinite emptiness

Maybe I am just a boring entity

Without a goal and motor

The feeling have left me

After the storm

What is there to pursue

Decorating the home?

I was hungry so I have eaten

Now

I want to dance a little

Its all in pieces

Its just existence

Mundanity

Oh insanity

You are a blessing

You give a meaning to this disconnected pleasant normality

What is there underneath

Don’t ask your mother

She won’t say anything

How is she not bored with this mundane eternity

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Art, economics, Poem, poetry, Satire, Uncategorized

One Prosaic Afternoon

My mother is so middle class and I’m her quirky baby
she holds a calculator on her laps calculating diengi
I tell her that I’m bored and sad
but she is getting angry
and tells me eat your soup cause soup is good
but am not feeling hungry
I ask her what’s the point of life
she says no one knows
and asks me about homework of geometry
she takes me to the kitchen table
to calculate the cone size, but I obviously hate this
I ask her about universe and stars
and then we start to argue
she calls me feeble-minded and I call her prosaic
but suddenly I see the cone comes from the page
and swirls in the air just in front of her

I do love geometry now
but now she thinks I’m crazy

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