Breathless . . . Heaving . . . Sputtering . . .
Many more steps to go.
Hardened feet.
No longer are my steps maligned by stabs of blood.
Condemnation . . . Damnation . . . Corruption . . .
My seasoned back launches into my perennial burden.
And another step I take.
Into an inevitable future of drudgery.
Hope . . . Exoneration . . . Absolution . . .
Have long been forgotten.
Their burnt ashes adorn my forehead.
My shoulder screams ahead, into the weight it upholds.
Rumble . . . Rumble . . . Rumble . . .
Each step like the millions before it,
thrusts the stone another foot towards the jagged peak
that towers impressively up ahead.
Dum Da De . . . Dum Da Doo . . . Dum De Da Dum . . .
And the day goes on.
Dum Da De . . . Dum Da Doo . . . Dum De Da Dum . . .
And the night lives long.
Breathless . . . Heaving . . . Sputtering . . .
My war-torn muscles relax.
And the stone sits.
Stares at the valley below.
Lightning . . . Rain . . . Thunder . . .
The wind caresses and cajoles,
And the stone rolls down below, echoing Thor’s exclamations
And my heart leaps with joy.
After all, there will be another day.
And my feet have hardened anyway.
Ha Ha . . . Ha Ha . . . Ha Ha . . .
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 10:03 AM UTC
In the shadow of a tall mountain
I pitch a tent
I lay a fire
I eat berries
I bathe in the pond
People come, people go
They say much, as do I
And once after the fortnightly storm
A hole I dig, and a seed I sow
Of a pellet of light wrested from my chest
And people come, and people go
But the sunshine never comes, for the mountain is tall
And the mountain is strong
But the sunshine I need, for the pellet to grow
And grow it must
Grow it must
Into a ball of light to walk into
That shines right through the mountain
And all around
But the mountain is tall, and the shadow is long, and the pellet has been sown
In the arc of perennial dark
People come, people go
But this time, one stayed
Without a reason too firm
And little is said
Except the voice of the lantern carried in anew
And the gentle, flickering light, flows on the seed
Like the lapping of rippling water on the pond’s shore
The pellet of light throbs softly, breathes easy
And after we pat fondly the mound of earth on the seed’s womb
We pitch a tent
We lay a fire
We eat berries
We bathe in the pond
In the shadow of a tall mountain
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 1:31 AM UTC
You wake up
And churn out your routinely manufactured day,
Till the obliviousness washes over you
Till you can barely breathe
And you pant, and you heave
And you sputter out an exclamation of remorse
In being born
In an era with no answers and fashioned morals.
To be nailed down to the earth, while being a child of the universe.
One which taunts you with its domineering presence
In every direction
Around every nook.
Reminding you of your insignificance.
Of your nature, so fleeting.
A flung out piece of excrement
Floating around the abyss.
A taunt.
Your life is a taunt.
And the great big being laughs his great big laugh.
The shudder of his belly causes civilizations to fall
And children to be born
To a small little wail
Which wades across the cosmic fabric
As an impending omen of inevitable suffering.
Flee, you rotting carcasses
Separated from the inevitable only by mother time.
Flee
Till your spirit tapers into nothingness
And points towards nothingness.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 2:06 PM UTC
I am here.
I am, now.
I am not there.
I am not, then.
This is the purpose of my existence.
I look up at infinity.
I look up into the past.
What I see is not what is.
Close your eyes, shed the glasses.
What I think is what is.
Reality is limited only by thoughts.
Unleash them. Set them free. Experience. Perceive.
Aug 28, 2011
Aug 28, 2011 at 2:12 PM UTC
Comprehend the gravity of your dark side.
All who have laughed, have also cried.
Who decides what is right or wrong?
Sing along to the funeral song.
For every love, there is a heartbreak.
Relish every moment of the ache.
Savour all pain till it is gone.
Close the door, and scream on.
Liberate yourself from your throbbing rage.
Don't waste effort in buying a cage.
Revel in the scald of total isolation.
Look within to find your salvation
Opposites decease without one another.
How can you define one sans the other?
Apr 3, 2011
Apr 3, 2011 at 10:01 AM UTC
A whirlpool of thoughts swirled
as I slowly jogged around the park.
Amid the futile struggle of light,
against the approaching dark.
To never let go of the strings of past,
as stubborn as a flickering flame.
The road ahead mirrors the bygones.
We needn't look far for the blame.
The crushing burden of modern life;
facing the music with his head unbowed.
He gets on his feet with wounded knees,
and smiles at the succumbing crowd.
Innumerable choices present themselves,
as many as the peppered stars, abundant.
Each with unfathomable potential, yet
the path chosen invariably redundant.
He walks about the infinite desert;
the scalding ache of complete isolation.
He covets the presence of a nearby soul,
whose essence is but a mere reflection.
I drew in a lungful of evening air;
the immediate difference, so stark!
Yielding to the juggernaut of conformity,
as I slowly jogged around the park.
Jul 13, 2010
Jul 13, 2010 at 8:59 AM UTC
I am taught to obey your every command.
You ask me to move away, many a mile,
to loyally do your bidding, by killing.
Hey mama! When am I allowed to smile?
Across the partition, I see my kin.
I am asked to rewrite their fates.
I put a bullet in a husband, a father.
Who will answer for me at the gates?
The smell of molten lead when I charge.
The smell of searing flesh as I flee.
My life will never be the same again.
Hey mama! Will you take care of me?
A sudden gush of incomparable love,
engulfs me as I walk in the door.
The music of my little girl giggling;
Hey mama! Will I hear it once more?
The mud, soaked with my brothers' blood.
Innumerable, with their heads askew,
breathe their last for a cause so trivial.
Hey mama! Does it look right to you?
Mar 17, 2010
Mar 17, 2010 at 9:28 AM UTC
When the mundane routine beckons
An uncharacteristic tremor is desired
Yet, I turn my back on the door
All I get from running is tired
Making my own path through the fields
Turning to see no one around me
A silhouette approaching from the sun
Against the wind I flee
Transfixed at the sight from way up above,
of the benign waves caressing the shore
Unable to take the step that I should
Unable to bear the thought for a second more
Shielding my eyes from the piercing truth
Eternally existing in blunt display
I close my eyes, and surrender to ignorance
All I seem to be doing is running away
Mar 17, 2010
Mar 17, 2010 at 9:26 AM UTC
Mr. Droplet was born from a fingertip
Placed on a wall expecting him to slip
Pulled down by his own weight
What he wouldn’t give to instead be on a plate
Every inch, a step towards non-existence
Giving it all he has, to offer resistance
Never once running out of breath
Doing all he can to avoid his death
But in the end, it was too late
Mr. Droplet fulfilled his fate
What was the point of it all?
His torturous journey down the wall
He looked at the wall from beyond the veil,
and saw that he had left behind a trail
Maybe that was the point of his existence
The result of all his hard work and persistence
Yet, in the end, it matters not
If he was kind or if he sinned
All it takes to dry the trail away,
is nothing but a gentle gush of wind
Mar 17, 2010
Mar 17, 2010 at 9:23 AM UTC