that fog horn blows,
worries my mind, lord knows, we don’t need,
more obstacles in this tired world, so the horn
trying, to be blowing fog away, without success

the sound’s remainder air-lingers like foam bubbles
ridden down to coffee cup bottom, resisting, protesting,
refusing to expire, useless/nonetheless, says no dying

sole boat outlined, bout mile out, must be anchored, it’s
unmoved by fog danger or noise, fishing is my informed
best guess, but fish ain’t stoopid, swimming another way

the fog horn wakes the woman who looks askance
cause there is neither coffee or a newly christened
poem upon her nightstand, an explanation is sought

“stand by me,” I sing, “be unafraid my darling, stand now,
stand by me,” poet said “been guarding our bed, this long
foggy night, agin interlopers, bad dreams and sea troubles”

shied ‘em away, knowing that when a man loves a woman,
she can lean on him, cause he’s load bearing, her safety is
always first, poem second, coffee coming, with sun rising

she bemused, funny you’re, kooky like the poems you’ve up-
written all night, up all life long, all stored up in my nightstand,
you’re sweet, like  Tennessee whiskey, ignore my scowling my own
poet-mr. coffeeman-sea guardian, you’re alright with me

I am lost in thought
Some one will have to catch me up later..
Sure, I’ll pretend I was listening with a hmmm mmm here and a nod there..
but really, I’m on a journey...
a retreat for my mind ...
from this mundane conversation...
so I’ll treat myself with this little trip...
just about riiiiight here* in this very one-sided “exchange”
so boring I may as well be elsewhere...
anywhere but here...
you prate on and on...
self-absorbed, as am I...
So preoccupied with your chatter...
you don’t even seem to notice that you’re talking to yourself

Todays new millionth sunrise bids me stand,
observe the river traffic from my kitchen window,
accept that my takings are debts,
a few, even paid back,
yet, most still owed,
for the origins of all my poems,
are oddly and oddity old,
unoriginal, second, third handed
as I look through the eyes of the dead,
and yours too,
this my unoriginal,
original sin....
(pretending  I am a poet)

spaghetti in the food bin
a love story for the worms

He will send for you
Once he realizes
And yes
It will feel good
It will make you want to fix it
But sometimes things are better left broken.
You wont be that same girl anymore
You wont want to scream to be heard anymore
You want peace.
Not on the outside
But within.

I'm tasting the salt upon my favorite lips
A crusty Waterman you are for me

Holding down a sumptuous fort
Sandcastles built for lost lover's

You'll do too much for this heart
Happier than a Lark I'll be

I waited so long to live proper, because why?

Don't you think regrets take you far
Don't press more
The past painful scar
Let it heal
The time will reveal

Humming silent calmness
The gentle breeze over empty fields
Birds biting their tongues
Stillness in turmoil

Hateful deafening calm
Breath screaming into the wind
Feet covered by the dust coated earth
Uncomfortable by the peace

strip mall church
selling rosaries
and hope

“of late, I have been falling in and out of love with words.” (Pradip)

Dear Pradip,

yeah had them symptoms too, pizza and penicillin, lost my sense of taste and smell, but neither helped, guessing gets tougher, when older, all those associated, assorted, amazing never ending, abracadabra, baptismal-bathing-broadening, buttered-up jobs & responsibilities when your suddenly taller by a new generational addition to the family tree, which means much more concerning, burning worrying words, you dare not say aloud, cause Shiva is too interested, and has too many arms, in interfering with your many small pieces of composure in pandemic days.

Sorry, buddy got no solution, maybe rubbing alcohol, maybe hard liquor, prayers on knees to a 57 variety of deities, try a different temple, start the week on a Wednesday, learn to rhumba, practice meditation way out loud, be annoyingly concerned bout everybody else, offer to do all the kids homework, buy the wife a new dress so you can have an argument regarding wasting money, so you can kiss and make up, heck and ****, you could even write crazy words in any order your personal dictionary commands, reorganizing them in reverse order, and then slapdash them together and call it stew,

don’t matter as long as you got the jaw jawing, the eyes winking, the people looking at you like you gone cuckoo mad, tell your children how much you love them in the middle of day, wave to a neighbor across the street, the gossipy one who always spying on you, sing some cowboy ***-on-little-doggie lullabies, interspersing a Yellow Submarine, croon A Long and Winding Road, and Do Not Forget to include Let It Be, preach with a whang damnastic fever to the street peddlers, then ask for a better price, by now your not-so-well repute will precede you, everyone be offering a cool drink, or hot tea, fresh paneer, really big discounts, the most comfy chair, asking what else ya need, tell ‘em a pen and some paper, please, and everyone will be relieved! cause you back to merely, plain, ordinary crazy, simply composing that wonderful poetry you love to
w r i t e
and everything is
r i g h t
in the world.

other than that, got no consoling words. Sorry.

Sincerely,

The Natster

You’re much like the rain,
You can be soft or heavy,
Or kind to my drought.

Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.

Pay attention to the supremacist,
the supremacist is the most white advocate of all.
Never forget the colorless supremacist
because if you do it might be the end of all.

I think in feeling too much, I forgot what it means to feel at all

I am alone
Quiet roads and broken trees
Are standing like mourners
I am alone
No family or friends to guide me
No one is there
I am lonely
I wish someone
Anyone
Was there
I am alone
And I am lonely

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

If my fate is to love you
From a distance
Then I'll burn for you
Like a star in your night sky
Bright, steady, reliable
Unwavering
Until the end of time.

I will always be there for you
I will always care about you
I will always fight for you
I will always love you

you were never there for me
you never cared, your silence was the key
you never fought for me, instead, you broke me free
you didn't love me, you  never accepted you and me
because you  judged a person I was never meant to be

Someday you'll realize I was there when no one else was.
That I loved you like no other, and I didn't judge you like the others
Makes me wonder, why do I still bother?

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

সমর ভৌমিক
10 জুলাই 2020; 02:29

ফুল আমাদের মনকে উচ্ছসিত করে
অথচ ফুলের জীবনেও ক্ষুধা থাকে,
ফুলের জীবনেও তৃষ্ণা থাকে,
ফুল ক্ষুধার্ত হয় তৃষ্ণার্ত হয়-
তবু তৃপ্ত হতে পারে না।

নিজের হাতে তুলে নেই ফুলের পরমায়ু-
যতটুকুতে ইচ্ছেমতো প্রশান্তি,
ইচ্ছেমতো ভালোবাসা-
কিছুক্ষণ আগেও বেঁচে ছিলো যে ফুল,
স্বপ্ন দেখেছিলো সাধারণ মৃত্যুর।

আস্তে আস্তে মখমলে পাপড়ি গুলো
মাতালের মতো বেহুস, ঢলে পড়ে-
যেন বার্ধক্যের জলশূণ্যতা,
আমরা দীর্ঘশ্বাস অনুভব করি না,
ফুলের ব্যথা অনুভব করি না।

সামান্য সময় পেরোলেই ভালোবাসা উধাও
কুষ্ঠ রুগীর মতো অবহেলায় পড়ে থাকে,
ফুলের লাশ, যেখানে সেখানে-
অথচ যখন দৃষ্টিতে অপহরণ করেছি,
আদর ঘ্রাণ কোমলতা, সব-
অণু’কেও বলেছি, ফুলের মতো তোমাকেও।

the low-hanging clouds
mean that god is in residence
on the mountain of serpents
just west of here

tendrils of holy mist descend
adding depth to my perception
of the many canyons and rises
that are just flat foothills most days

adding understanding
by obscuring
showing me more
by showing me less

only god moves in this way
i bow my head in reverence
for my father, god
for my mother, nature

The texture of
My lips

Slur the notes
That drape my hips

Staccato
Across my midline

Crescendo
Look for us

staring out the window,
I remember you as you were

a bird always in flight

a fist full of tomorrows
held in the palm of your hand

staring out the window at the pouring rain
the warmth of your hand
pinions of a doves wing
your hand in mine

I will not see the shadow
under your smile


gathering all the light in a room
like a flower in the sun

I remember you as you were

Respect is given freely
Earned? No
So it goes without saying, it can be lost
Pursuant to emptiness
Existentially present, eternal
Clinch it, like air
Take note, it isn't taught

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

Have you ever liked someone so much you regret meeting them?

was it something i said?
that made you anxious

made you angry
or made you upset?

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems too *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.

Tic toc
…..I miss you.....
Tic toc
…..counting the seconds on the clock until I see you again.....
Tic toc
…..seconds to minutes.....
Tic toc
…..minutes to hours.....
Tic toc
…..hours to days.....
Tic toc
…..days to weeks.....
Tic toc
…..weeks to months.....
Tic toc
…..Why did you have to leave?.....
Tic toc
…..I've never been so alone.....
Tic toc
…..I've never felt so lost.....
Tic toc
…..My heart is rending…..
Tic toc
…..Please answer your phone.....
Tic toc
…..Let me know you're okay.....
Tic toc
…..I'm staring at our photos now.....
Tic toc
…..*** please answer your phone.....
Tic toc
…..I can't take this pain anymore.....
Tic toc
…..I've never loved anyone the way I love you.....
Tic toc
…..Can you feel my heart beat across the ocean?.....
Tic toc
…..It beats for you.....
Tic toc
…..You are my heart.....
Tic toc
…..It beats in sync with the tic toc of this clock.....
Tic toc
…..It's driving me insane.....
Tic toc
…..I want to break it.....
Tic toc
…..Will I break myself?.....
Tic toc
…..I want to scream.....
Tic toc
…..I miss you.....
Tic toc.....