Like the turning sheets
of a monthly calender,
life has layers after layers.
How would he know that ,
just a callow youth on sea shore
playing with smooth pebbles,
that was when he saw her first.
She was the woman who
taught him, whole cities lay merged
within a woman, like wave after wave,
of inhabitants over time, leave their
archaeological markers of periods,
she was a mystery like life itself.
There is no way to decipher.
They first met
in the city of light,
Diwali lamps were lit
in all courtyards,
It was an immortal moment
in his life, he realized,
leading him gently to the light
which evaded him though he assiduously sought,
she parted without a word
Did she belong to someone else?
The city of sorrow,
yet again brought them face to face
Ridden with angst of existence
he stumbled, was about to fall, then
he could experience her iron will
more than a woman, she stood, like a pillar of strength,
she took his weary head in both hands, pressed to her breast,
pulled out the crown of thorns, their paths
diverged again, inexplicably complex, was their relationship.
In the city of guilt,
an unexpected meeting again,
they were surprised. Here, they were on their own.
They wanted to take their lives in their hands,
in spite of the currents that pulled them to different directions.
But he knew all the while that her self, was divided between
three cities within in her.They co-existed, Light.Guilt.Sorrow
will their love survive? Not all loves are intended to live long,
a parrot in his tree of loneliness always whispered.He pretended he didn't hear,
A game of dice, almost was their lives, mysterious forces did bet on their love,
Having traveled through fire and water, she was beyond pleasure and pain,
Kali with a fiery nose stud, female power that overcomes all pain,
she became, that shattered his dreams for them.
He was thankful, to be awakened by her,
the light she lit, burned bright, within.
Now or never.He crossed the river.
Deliverance comes from an inner source,
otherwise all will end as an idiot's tale
Her flame lighted his wick, liberated him.
Fire spitting dragons one can tame,
but in the duel with demons of life,
it could be a blood letting end,
call it play of chance or what ever
they are the easy game here
He packed his backpack and
started to move eastwards,
Westward bound was she, invariably,
her heart had still a song left for him,
the void was filled, the pain was stilled
with anesthetics of mind.
Just for one last time they went to the beach,
watching the sunset was their good bye to each other.
They never met again.
Time runs out
Mistake no longer can be undone
I'm stuck with the hand I was dealt
Depression and sickness, forever a plague
A life of misery awaits
Nobody cares if you're sad as an adult
You're supposed to stand up and be a man
Men don't cry
Men are always strong
And I don't think I am capable of that
Uncaring minutes are but passersby
disregarding my wails.
They hear me; they offer no help.
Though, with only sixty seconds to exist,
why would they stop for me?
The hours pound against my skull with intent to smash their way in.
Such constant clangor resonates through my consciousness
disturbs my ego,
the agitation seems to sieve out
tiny jealousies from among other thoughts.
Oh those god-damned Days.
They see me confused and seize their chance;
they pull out my feet
right from under my frame,
and helpless, hurt,
I collapse to the earth.
And here time really sets in.
The Months form gangs called 'Years'
and The Years take their turn
breaking my joints, my fingers, my knees,
all my snappable, crackable points.
Curved, crippled, and creaking,
I languish in fantasies of what's supposed to be,
oh, and the 'might-have-beens'.
Time makes things worse.
A dark shadow moves over me.
I look up as far as a heavy, beaten head will allow
only to see the massive, soul-crushing weight of the decades
seating their backside;
down to rest upon my twig-like spine.
And throughout the abuse,
I crawl, cringe, cower
as safe as can be in a low lying state on the ground,
(which is still six feet too high for all that time cares!)
I hear from somewhere afar
an unfaltering decree
from my maker to me
"Stand up straight! For Heaven's sake!"
will you stay long enough
to keep me until i can love again?
or will you make me see
that there is no hope for me?
if you will, then be the wind
that goes without a trace,
so i can only smell
what you’ve left,
the scent of your betrayal
for each time you return
to fill me with your essence,
i have no choice,
but to open myself fully to you—
i can’t live like this,
i can’t breathe in what you exhale,
leaving me with nothing, when
you go on to places
like the morning mist,
this isn’t love, this is
all your emotions on airlock
poured out on me,
i can tell you’re running out
so i’m running away.
I know I’m nothing.
I know I’m even more of a nothing every time I say it.
Every time I talk about it.
Every time I point it out.
I am pathetic.
And I am nothing.
I am not the motion of a princess being swept away.
I am not the gaze of a star-crossed lover.
I am not a wedding vow.
I am a hug and a receptor of sound waves.
I am kind words and oxygen.
I am a friend.
I am not a lover,
A significant other.
I feel like nothing.
I have this seemingly endless list of passions, desires, dreams, and necessities. They haunt me. I am stuck in this state of near oblivion in a dismal attempt at removing myself from it all. It seems that time itself is taunting me; reminding me of the days and hours that are slipping easily from my grasp. There are mountains to be climbed and trails to be hiked and planes to be flown. I have the world to see and it seems that I am approaching the cliff and I can either dive into my travels or turn around sullenly and hope to find this time again. Meanwhile my studies await my return and my career hangs in the air with hope of a worthwhile degree. Yet I feel as if I am sewn to the floor of this place and there is no cutting myself loose to tend to any of these callings. I am watching my life pass me by and I am not entirely sure how to become a part of it.
As I sit here, alone in this room
You're body shutting down, calling it quits
My disbelief, anger, it all gets hidden.
I just sit and helplessly stare.
The clock hanging just above the door
It counts out time, every tick and tock
Signals one less breath you'll take as you limply lay there
One less chance for you to smile and be okay.
Everyone's saying you're too far gone already
Mom's willing to pull the plug
Seeing the bandages swallow all of you
Hiding your Irish, brutal skin
If only you hadn't drove home
And set your hands on your knees, instead of the wheel
Swerving, colliding, killing, dying
Dad, you stole someone's life from them
Soon, you'll be leaving us behind, I can see it in the I.V.'s
Forcing us to live as, "That drunkards kids"
I find it funny how one thing can push you clear off the edge
Destroying a life and yet you still have yours, it's unfair
Funny how when you're falling,
You screw everything up.
Even though you're already gone.
Daddy, why did you do it?
Sitting at the bar talking about poetry.
Talking about the girl I want to look at me.
Hold up my hands as if those thoughts were fire
Burning me from the inside out, just had to get it all out.
"I met her for the one night, and I've been writing about her ever since"
Then she looked at me and just said "Wow".
I wanted to smile but I felt just dirty.
These are my true feelings and I don't want share them with you.
Hold up the time for me I can't see it through this mask.
My head hangs low and stitches are bleeding.
I want to fall in love with this girl, so I write and hope she'll read it one day.
Now I am alone, high as fuck, totally drunk on that idea.
effervescent sprockets of spunk
you are everywhere.
> our brains collide <
a metaphysical mash of minds
the in and the outs.
I have joy,
but don’t find what I hide.
when you do,
and we will play pretend.
won’t be able to meet yours,
refer to me as someone
everywhere and nowhere
this space you play with
i’m not your jungle gym toy house game time afternoon
in the park,
I call bull.
Rearrange your head.
This life I live
Just seems to be dragging on
I'm depressed every time I wake up
14 years, and I want to give up
I can't seem to look forward to anything
Friends are drifting away
I'm tumbling down into a gully and being forgotten
14 years, and I've lived long enough
Whisper to myself to suck it up
Appears that only the talented throw their lives away
Done trying to save myself, cause it's not working
14 years will be on my tombstone
This Memorial Day
Will be a Memorial for me
My legacy, and how I ended it all.
Seems only the brave can make it these days, I won't make it.
I learned this year, if you step out of line, some will be recognized and the rest will just be mocked. I don't want to be one of those who gets tossed back in line with the normal. Maybe I'm serious this time, maybe I just am gloomy.