Another year has come and is almost gone
And yet my resilient spirit continues to fight on
Farewell 2020
You bought sorrow and misery aplenty
I thank Almighty for having survived you
You were like a never ending Monday morning blue
You did give me some memories to cherish
And there were a few with marks of blemish
Dear 2020...so many facets of life to me you have shown
I've suffered...survived and yet have in so many ways grown
I've stumbled...faltered and burnt
Yet there's so much that I've learnt
Dear 2020...you taught me so much
Weirdly enough I'm now thinking that I'll actually miss your touch
Here's looking forward to a hopeful new year
I hope and pray that it brings some joy and happiness instead of mostly tears and fears

Wishing everyone a joyous and safe new year...May Almighty bless us all with peace and prosperity.

This honestly isn’t a poem but more of a rant of sorts if that’s what you call it. Don’t let anyone hurt you, it stays with you and I promise that’s true. Walk a day in the shoes of others who have been hurt as I have and just notice all the things that you wouldn’t normally see. The past stays with you. And for those who decide to hurt anyone, *******. You don’t realize how badly you could destroy someone. The smallest actions cause the biggest tidal waves for others. Be aware, and learn to love and not hate.

you ever just sit or lay
on your bed and stare at
the ceiling and wonder
if you’ve ever eaten meat from an animal
that was the offspring of another animal
you’ve eaten?

I’ve once read an article about the
food industry’s secret glue
that can paste together the meat
belonging from many animals and
makes it look like it’s from a single one

thus you could eat beef thinking
that it’s from a cow
when in fact it’s from nine different cows
of nine different ages and breeds

a friend of mine declared herself vegan
after she sliced a steak and found
gray slimy **** oozing from it.
The blade struck a cyst

“I’m a vegan forever from now on!”
she screamed

And I said, “I’m a writer.”

“What?” she said. “What’s that have
to do with what I said?”

“I’m a writer,” I repeated. “Meaning I have to
compare everything to writing. Your discovery
of the cyst inside the steak is akin to reading
a really nice book only to reach the most
disturbing scene you’ve stumbled upon in a long
while and be taken by surprise and change your
opinion about the whole book.
There are some books like that. Doesn’t mean
they all are though.
And unlike a meat eater, I like to believe
a writer can tell the difference between a book
written by a single person and a collaborative
project.”

“Boy, you’re scaring me.”

“Can I have that steak?” I said.

“Wah? You… don’t mean to eat it, do you?”

“Nah, my cousin has a dog who surely
won’t mind the cyst.”

she gave me the steak
and she didn’t ask (I only wanted her to),
but the writer
equivalent of this situation would be
to recognize when a story fails
real bad and instead of stubbornly striving
to submit to agents
you just give it away for free,
publish online,
maybe even under a pseudonym

Anyway
the dog loved that steak.

beneath your feet
a fire rages

beneath your feet
tiny creatures

beneath your feet
dust gathers

beneath your feet
miles have passed

beneath your feet
volcanic heart, iron gleaming

In my dreams I can sing like a bird. Waking up, I just croak trying. It saddens me that I can sing an aria only in my dreams.
I always start on a high note. Why can’t I sustain it? Maybe it is the pollution, the congestion of the air that fails me.

In slumber I am an artist of black and white prints that reveal one mystery after another unfolding before my eyes.
The next day I feel energized to create a masterpiece. Alas, my fingers recoil at the sight of my paltry attempts.

But awake I dance with a light foot and a dizzy head as I circle and swirl to my image’s delight, my heart as my witness.