The overcooked idea

 It was something that flit by

that gave me pause in my thoughts

creating much chaos, I do not lie

refrain do I from connecting the dots?

Disturbed I am by something physical

but drawn to return to speculation so whimsical

A break in links often disturb my plans

if it wasn't for those pesky eyes

I would conjure those thoughts in shallow pans

and enjoy the newly made curry with some rice

but now I can do only little but weep

having been shaken from thoughts so deep

This is another moment lost

to a sound vibrating within my ears

I would have the idea on a roast

marveling it's taste with some pears

but it has been sadly sabotaged

by something so hopelessly camouflaged

I have lost the pattern in my thoughts

to a weird smell that reached my nostrils

I would boil the concept to a froth.....

but alas why do I feel so nasal

There is a sight that open my eyes

and a dry hiss pulls my ears

sitting on the cooktop in front of me

lies the burn remnants of nothing nice

smoke so strong it bring me to tears

and now I have no evening meal.

Note: This poem is about daydreaming while cooking. and not noticing that the food getting burnt is trying to pull you from your reverie, until it is too late

Releasing some magic

 Traditions have passed from generation to generation

Some recent and many from sources unknown

Elders say it is from the beginning of civilization

while their faces crease heavily with a frown

Warnings galore of pricks not unlike that of a cactus

until you follow and put those lores to practice

Some of these are carefully worded caution

but averse to letting others go scot-free

many of these are probably a compulsive rendition

no thanks to some person buried deep within the family tree

Generations later have been unwilling

to change something that has been supposedly there from the beginning

Realization dawns that we are all different in nature

but we have taken important traits of one we consider greater

therefore we end up being a little caricature

our fantastic capabilities duly lost to dear mother nature

Sure, we are birds of the very same feather

but there certainly is no need to peck as we flock together

History has several fiery examples at a large scale

Subjugation has been a lesson very hard to learn

Consider this an opportune moment to use a chute to bale

Those things that hurt us- they are better left to burn

All these years have gone by with little logic

The time is high to release some magic

Note: This talks about how customs that are considered unbreakable by the current generation are most probably an elaborate play by someone in our culture's history; probably in order to impose themselves on others around. The only person that we have control on is ourselves (as an individual), and for us to reach our maximum potential and to actually make a difference, we need to work only on our selves and hence get the best out of us.