On one side are past traumas
The other side the audience
There's a mountain to explain, and attention spans are razor thin
So to cut the message across, brevity I'm told is key
You hold on to the edges of your seat
And I'm hiding behind me
The 'Me' is just a shell, inside it stuffed with things
conformity, smiles, fear of being judged
There's ego, pride and shame, illusion of control
and so the story goes:
there was pain, there was hurt
there was heart, and there was love
Sep 8, 2024
Sep 8, 2024 at 6:45 AM UTC
Loneliness is wicked
Drags my feet on the floor
Cars go past the window and wind howls
Everything stands still and its hands grip the neck of my clock and choke the moment
Stop scratching my mirror you demon!
My self image is distorted as it is, without you making a mockery of these daily reflections
Creeps into the bath through the drain
Or at night seeps through the cold sheets
I can see it staring at me through the keyhole
I stare back
Keeps hiding when I’m in the crowd, but only I know, its scrawny, bony hands sits heavy on my shoulders
Wicked, wretched, nasty, relentless you
Jun 26, 2021
Jun 26, 2021 at 10:20 AM UTC
Through the daily grind here I am, minced (me)at:
- Fifty five percent monotonous shadow of a moving soul, on auto-pilot and caught in a well-designed hamster wheel that is fully functional, like clockwork
- Twenty five percent educated consumer, insatiable bargain hunting , ever-evolving being, caught in a never-ending loop of self-fulfilling prophecies and ego-colliding encounters
- Five percent shattered creativity, hopes and dreams, the cohesive mass of which I keep safe under the carpet of daily small talks, self-regulation techniques and wealth-management strategies
- Half a percent chronic melancholia and half a percent sheer exuberance, which make up a whole percentage of unhinged
- An inexact percentage of loves lost and longed for, probably about four percent, the bitter taste of those are semi-washed away by single malt whiskey which forms another two percent in its own right
- Three percent bottled up feelings, unexpressed opinions, suffocated road rage, internalised feelings of inadequacy and guilt, body-image issues, what ifs, should haves, never have I evers, maybe in the futures and down the tracks aaaaaaaaaand therapy bills
- Trauma two percent; and
- Three percent memories
Jun 26, 2021
Jun 26, 2021 at 9:53 AM UTC
Nine thousand nine hundred and fifty nine miles
Your being echoes through the airways and tugs at my heart strings
How do you play so skilfully my dear?
As though the distance is no impediment, nor the years apart
Jun 26, 2021
Jun 26, 2021 at 4:25 AM UTC
I see my child within you, I see her smiling
When mountains kneel before the might of time, and our laughter is but a fainting whisper under the wind's murmur
Her ever glowing eyes will pierce through the night, like your innocence did through my soul
And she will carry your fragrance of the stars, that I blindly followed
And my wonder she will burden in an apathetic world
Years from now when you and I are but sand under her feet, she will carry you with her infinite fountain of smile and me with an insatiable thirst
For we both scoured for a friend, and there were none to be found
So we wove a blanket of dreams and embrace
My little girl
I know it's a cruel and lonely world
And sorry my ego towered over my humanity
Please keep smiling
when you’re walking on the sand with a heavy burden, in an indifferent world, with wind whispering long forgotten words to your ears
Just know, you do so because I saw my child within her,
And I saw you smiling
Jun 26, 2021
Jun 26, 2021 at 3:18 AM UTC
I see the child within you I see her smiling
Come, strip off your polite nods and your "I'm fines".
Unburden yourself in the shield of my embrace, this unfettered cocoon of love
Then only we're not two wandering souls but one body facing time
This is the sincerest I have ever existed, the purest, most untainted picture of me, mirror of you
To sweep the back of my hand against your cheeks of silk,
To run my fingers through your hair,
Kiss your back and kiss your shoulder
Stop the hands of time, let me gaze into the depth of your being, gate of your eyes
And pour my heart out just with a glance
How infinite that moment would be
I see the stream of this poetic sadness between us as you pull away
I still see the child within you, I see her smiling
Jun 26, 2021
Jun 26, 2021 at 3:14 AM UTC
Agaldo's sinking because the thrill is gone.
The mist is lifting and the ache is waking up from its hibernation.
Agaldo played dead fish and swam with the water. As there was no will left, and breath became scarce.
The circumstance dire, and too complicated for him to mouth.
After all, language presupposes artificiality they say.
Jun 25, 2021
Jun 25, 2021 at 9:08 PM UTC
Forget my broken words
The road I've traveled was a long one
And listen my all, I am very tired
Forget my broken soul
I've been running for so long, I have forgotten the human lives in the machine
And forgot that I forgot
Forget !
Forget the stars. The constellations are consolations for a broken heart that still seeks love
and I'm sorry I have no light within me to pour onto you
Forget the kind eyes
Even if you look past the swollen lips and the crooked teeth, there is no laughter awaiting
Only shards of a broken smile
For my brothers have fallen and left no legacies
For my house is burning, and everyone has forgotten.
Jun 25, 2021
Jun 25, 2021 at 9:04 PM UTC
Death Hissing
They are bringing him in, cuffed and head split
Water running through hair locks clotted with blood, cascading down his nose and trickling down his sewn lips like pain honey
A chain on each side of his face, pulling each side of his lips
towards the back of his ears, they put a smile on his face
Heart dripping with tar, darker than the darkest of nights
The executioner picking rotten meat off his teeth
Smell of burnt flesh in the air, wingless vultures circling around
Legs dragging on the ground, leaves rustling,
Death hissing.
This is a city where eyes are gouged out and no one can see
Children are skinned alive spiritually with diamond daggers
Souls gone septic, pre post-apocalyptic
Chain-free
But from generations in every family, are passed down heirlooms of slavery
The pipes are smouldering towards the glass ceiling
Ashes snowing down the man's face, hiding his despaired glance
Time to take one last look, over the ruins and distorted faces
of a crowed so hungry, they chew on their own brittle bones as they watch
Nausea in the air, the sky sickens him
Death hissing, slowly approaching, he mutters:
Come,
Cradle me.
Jun 25, 2021
Jun 25, 2021 at 9:02 PM UTC
I used to hate your healthy avocados...until I had one
Not that your coffee tasted superior to my tea
But what's taste when you season mine with gun powder?
Yes, In case you did not detect
There is a lot of hate in this one
Call me aggressive and spiteful
Whilst holding your rifle
They say hate begets hate begets hate begets hate
So for you to understand
I put aside my ignorance and try to walk in your shoes
OK, let's start:
A lot of trees
Beautiful sky, delightful breeze
A rich land where tenants are a many and they shun the proprietor
I know I promised to be nice
But let's face it for that white picket fence, someone had to pay the price.
Start again:
Sunny coasts
Bacon, eggs on toast
Walk the dog in the park, life is not all that hectic here.
To make it clear, running out of coffee is my basic fear.
Flat stomachs
In fact, six packs!
Cupboard full of knick-knacks
and plenty of time to kick back and relax
Never-ending supply of niceties
Calm waters
Long walks along the harbor
and perhaps a tall pint of lager at the pub
Throw some juicy ones on the barbie mate!
Who cares if 6.2 mil in Somalia are starving mate?
You say to me:
"survival of the fittest, Darwin mate"
"It's so difficult to fit in" I say; so tiring MATE
Did I say that right?
I'm Mohammad, as James in a play called "Aussie Catch Up"
and I don't know how to play that part
What else can I say? they gave me a voice (although in English)
between the self deprecating migrant and the middle eastern rag head, the gave me a choice
And by the way my boss tried to anglicize my name
Said Sebastian had a nice ‘ring’ to it
Well go ahead, march to your colonial tune and have me sing to it
Oh healthy avocados, you're too ripe for my liking
Maybe I'm just used to a bit of rawness in my diet
To be honest
I have a heavy heart, a dark one
Maybe to reconcile, you should take a step
a very very very very very very long one
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 6:00 AM UTC