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Artificial city-dwellers
Discard all humanity
Carbon fired tin cans
Pierce the serenity.

Anonymous collisions
Fifty floors below
Each passer by a stranger
You will never know.

Pedestrians, travellers
And their vehicles
Droplets in a river,
Altering the tidal flow.

Irrigation passages
Absorb the elements
Hedge fund panellists,
Bankers and workers flee.

Eye rolling baby boomers
Sit, tutting one by one.
Nervous millennials adorned
In clothes for moths to eat.

Breaking point carriages
Century old tunnelling
A lone foot tapping
And quiet page turning.

Brakes hit the track
Piercing the murmur
Eighty jarred necks
External motion blur.

Sliding carriage doors
A not-so-subtle beep
Dust kicked from dawn
Falls onto the city streets.

Blue tower inhabitants
Busting out of the seams
Water molecules collide
But nothing sinks the fleet.

Smartly suited eye-darters
Push and pull for space
Rolling up the banks
Humanity erased again.

I settle on the brickwork
Until the storm retreats
Circadian commuters
Run to rest their feet.

A few lonely meanders remain
Wondering down the beach
Forlorn festivies fog over
Swinging shop-signs squeak.  

As the lighting rig descends
And once blue ceiling stains
The beige brickwork turns red
The high tide admits defeat.

Pink light turns to navy blue
A faint moonbeam lights the sky
Obscured by one cloud then a few
Vague incandescence lights the scene.

The streetlights flicker overhead
One worn out passenger now leaves
Shrouded, cold, hungry and fulfilled;
Abandonment for some is peace.
Kenopsia: The eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that’s usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet.
 Nov 2018
Nickols
Her body only existed where he touched her.
Twisting and writhing to his hands upon her flesh.
The rest of her evaporated into smoke.
             Dispersing into the nights air from a masterstroke
 Mar 2018
Poetic T
I am a handful of sorrow,
            & a tear full of joy.

I am a heartbeat of anguish,
       & a singular beat of happiness.

We are all a reflections of opposites,
        & yet a representation of neither.
 Nov 2017
nivek
chemical language
electric thought
neon lights
taste of tongue
skin touch
muscle memory
falling in love.
 Oct 2017
girl diffused
Everything in the home is new
She curls her toes against the wooden grain of the floorboards
Rain pelts against the window pane, her fingers flex
The dog moans somewhere beyond the walls
She feels like a phantom, her feet light on every surface
Untraceable, she finds him reclining on the couch
Curled in on himself, eyes, half-lidded
Heavy with sleep, pearled water on his eyelashes
She kisses his cheek, presses her lips against his wet forehead
His eyelids flutter open, his hands pass over the thick hardcover
A poet's book in his hand, pages dog-eared on 352, he opens it
Drowsily reads a poem, her words that she'd written late at night
Dripping from his lips, not mendacious, but holding a deeper truth in his mouth

-

This is where she would end up, in this soft-white-walled home
Everything is new and bright
The cat, curled up on the windowsill, seemingly peering into a divided world
Separated by the gentle pattering of falling rain
Everything outside is gray and cloudless
The computer is on but its light emitted is muted
She seats herself next to him, folds her legs underneath her
His hand grasps hers gently, turns it over, gleaming on her finger is the ring
The quiet and unselfish promise

*

The quiet and unselfish promise
His hand grasps hers gently, turns it over, gleaming on her finger is the ring
She seats herself next to him, folds her legs underneath her
The computer is on but its light emitted is muted
Everything outside is gray and cloudless
Separated by the gentle pattering of falling rain
The cat, curled up on the windowsill, seemingly peering into a divided world
Everything is new and bright
This is where she would end up, in this soft-white-walled home

-

Dripping from his lips, not mendacious, but holding a deeper truth in his mouth
Drowsily reads a poem, her words that she'd written late at night
A book in his hand, pages dog-eared on 352, he opens it
His eyelids flutter open, his hands pass over the thick hardcover
She kisses his cheek, presses her lips against his wet forehead
Heavy with sleep, pearled water on his eyelashes
Curled in on himself, eyes half-lidded
Untraceable, she finds him reclining on the couch
She feels like a phantom, her feet and fingers light on every surface
The dog moans somewhere beyond the walls
Rain pelts against the windowpane, her fingers flex
She curls her toes against the wooden grain of the floorboards
Everything in the home is new
énouement
n. the bittersweetness of having arrived here in the future, where you can finally get the answers to how things turn out in the real world—who your baby sister would become, what your friends would end up doing, where your choices would lead you, exactly when you’d lose the people you took for granted—which is priceless intel that you instinctively want to share with anybody who hadn’t already made the journey, as if there was some part of you who had volunteered to stay behind, who was still stationed at a forgotten outpost somewhere in the past, still eagerly awaiting news from the front.

About this poem - a girl gazes into her future once, then again, in reverse.
 Sep 2017
nivek
everything comes through the senses
you know of nothing, but through them.
 Sep 2017
redruMAndTea
nobody ever “got it”
they didn’t seem to understand
that it was never about the drugs
they saw a waste of space
a low life teen
surfing on neon hallucinations
they saw angry decisions
blackened by ash
and a years destruction of a
pill bottle’s attach
said we should have listened
harder to those programs
the cunningham family ones
they show at school
the ones that showed us
drugs were “bad”
but those **** things
failed to inform us on the “noise”
the “noise” that would soon fill
the space of every broken
dream, promise, or heart.
the “noise” that weighed
down on us kids
that didn't end once it had
hit start.
they failed to mention
the pain and the stress
they lied and never told us how
life, school, parents, everything
was forever one big unsolved mess.
like a knife it slit into our souls
bleeding tears and dignity
we leaned over bridges to try and catch
our childhood memories
but we kept bleeding
losing ourselves in a void of darkness
falling
falling
falling
deeper into a blackened abist
and so we kept falling,
trying desperately to cling on to any branch
anything.
until our shaky blue fingertips kissed
softly against an ecstasy.
a cure
and finally for the first time sense as
long as we could remember,
the noise was no more.
 Aug 2017
RAJ NANDY
Dear Poet Friends, we are all born rich with plenty of time in our hands taking it for granted till old age arrives; when time begins to run out gradually going beyond our reach! Time is the only thing which we can never accumulate or save during our lifetime.  Yet each passing moment remains priceless like the effervescent dew drops of time! Kindly do read the short Notes below, which makes it easier to appreciate this poem you know! Thanks, -Raj

               TIME THE TRAVELLING GYPSY MAN
TIME you travelling gypsy man won’t you like to stay, and park
your magic caravan here just for a day?
You have been travelling without stopping through vast eons
of time,
Over the Tigress and the Euphrates Rivers, to the Valley of the
Nile;
Nile that longest river of the world, and Egypt’s life line.
Passing over ancient pyramids and the sphinx with raised heads.
To the Valley of the Indus where civilizations of Harappa and
Mohenjo- daro had once spread!
Across the Great Chinese Wall to visit the civilizations of
Mesoamerica; -
Those of the Ancient Mayans, the Aztecs, and the great Incas!
With your long flowing beard as white as snow,
You old gypsy man you surely require a rest you know.
Time you old gypsy man won’t you park here for a day,
Best of food and drinks and a bed of feathers, I have spread
out for your stay!

TIME the gypsy man with a wan smile replied, “Thanks for the
invitation my friend but I must decline, simply because I have
no time!
Since the Big Bang like an arrow I have started to flow,
I cannot stop now and forward I must go!
With your sundials, water clocks, and the hour glass,
You try to enslave me, but I shall always remain in a flux!
With your caesium atomic clock you accurately measure me out,
But weather I am real or illusory, there remains a nagging doubt!
But if ever mankind reaches that magical speed of light,
Only then I would appear to freeze and stop moving forward -
as time!
The only breather I get is inside the ‘Womb of Eternity’,
Where I keep pulsating and breathing before I can break free!
Then I am reborn as future time once again,
Like your Sisyphus I have been cursed never to rest my
friend!” *

                                                              ­                  -by Raj Nandy.
NOTES:
Speed of light is 186,000 miles per second. According to Einstein’s Theory of Relativity this speed can be reached only theoretically, but if reached, time would cease & the hands of the clock will stand still! Now should this speed of light be crossed, time will being to flow backwards.
Arrow of Time = Western concept of time is linear which moves forward like an arrow. The Hindu concept of time is cyclic, where time moves in a repeating cyclic motion. I have explained both these concepts in my ‘Introduction to Indian Art in Verse’, for those who may be interested.
SISYPHUS = In Greek mythology Sisyphus was punished for his greed & deceitfulness by being forced to roll an immense stone up a hill only to watch it roll back again, thereby forced to repeat this action for eternity!
*
ALL COPY RIGHTS ARE WITH THE AUTHOR RAJ NANDY
 Aug 2017
nivek
poets come
poets go

only poetry
remains
 Aug 2017
Mike Hauser
there was once upon a time
this little light of mine
in all its hope it hoped to find
it would shine so bright

but now with time solidified
this little light of mine
has lost the hope it hoped to find
to help it shine so bright

no longer believing all the tales
it sang in nursery rhymes
it went out over time
this little light of mine
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