I wish to be a
man of hope again but this
life is just too cruel

11:16 AM
22/12/19

How fragile built a world,
where each thought and chosen attitude,
Lies safe, secure and constant,
on foundations built upon some platitude.

How to deal with life,
to face its tumultuous ride.
To see every obstructive hurdle,
as if from some brighter side.

To see not what life holds,
but some glass measure of its fill.
To somehow look beyond the quality,
to let quantity somehow shape your will.

To heed not the dark storm clouds,
when horizons fade to black.
To see only silver linings,
somewhere beyond fates latest attack.

How glorious it must be,
to hold onto some distant hope.
To blind yourself just enough,
to enable strength enough to cope.

My world seems no more stronger,
though on platitudes I cant rely.
For as life has shaped and taught me,
forever so, to be the pessimist am I.

Let them leave-
it doesn't matter.
If life is temporary,
how can they be permanent?
Nothing really lasts so
strap yourself in and
enjoy the ride.

If you want to see what becomes of optimists just look upon the faces of those people coming out of betting shops and casinos.

A pessimist will tell you that optimism is an addiction that will cost you as much as you are willing to wager and eventually the house will win.

You can only be as optimistic as you are lucky.

it's ready to happen
hours count down to launch, but the burners hum already
the structure is taken up
siphons slowly into the bloodstream

the catalyst, the moment
the agonist, the imitator

the perceptual set is set, and it's famished
not even lit, and it's waiting for more-
the stimulant, the ignition
the doctor, the system

like inlets of blood, the freeways carry us to the city
like carcinogens, like poison medication
like aluminum, like exhaust

i too am carried
and when i reach that center
i am deposited, and begin to take effect
while i wait for my own poison to take hold of me
blood within Blood
and
poison in Poison
medication in Medication in MEDICATION
we make sure all of our cancers are medicated

it has happened already
but i am waiting for it to happen again
the freeway now quiets itself in anticipation
a new day to repeat
the city is ready for more

I’m waiting in line, wasting my time
for things that won’t come, though they are mine.
Pretend that I’m fine, should I draw a line?
Don’t wish to run, but I think I’m just done.

Feelings I can’t shake, they keep me awake,
the list has increased, how much more can I take?
With so much at stake, I try not to break,
I miss the sun, but I think I’m just done.

With tired eyes
I’ll still see it through.
Exasperated sighs
in breaths I drew.
I broke the ties,
but I’ve got some glue.
Searching the skies
and looking for you.

I’m waiting so long, maybe I’m wrong
I can’t walk away; my legs aren’t that strong.
Alone in a throng, I still try to prolong,
but it never begun, and I think I’m just done.

The flowing tears
should extinguish the flame,
but it’s been years
and it still burns the same.
Doe eyes sees the fears
and treats it like a game,
then it all disappears
am I to blame?

I’ll wait forever, I’m not too clever,
passing me by, but never say never.
I can not severe this painful endeavour,
I’m always the one but I think I’m just done.

And as I bathed in milk, it became curdled. My heart eventually turning everything sour. It is a magic trick only I know.

The 'gyre' hints arrival-
Twenty centuries making room
For a new epoch,
I’m a modern bird now,
I may sound haphazard, troublesome, and brooding
unimportant topic for hours,
It's up to you to lend ear or not;

I was a winged rooster confined to land only,
Now I’ve become a 'hawk', with knowledge of flight
perhaps power too,
Seeing the world from far above
Envisioned me a seer sight;
I see the world functioning; the lowliest on top,
the best in daze, and mediocre relishing mediocrity,
One or two good men wasting
life in poetry which none cares.
Oblivious armed men guard the periphery;
White termites gnaw the door at the Centre.

At this height, all seem different,
I can’t relate with my earlier self;
My knowledge seems nothing but
a frail sound in a vacuum.
When I became 'conscious'-
My dreams stopped being dreams—
My thoughts were invaded daily—
Life evolved in million years—
'God is dead', the universe all naked.
We’re the supreme, the Satan both;
Busy in triumphing Desires.
Converging all— blazed my beliefs.

We’ve progressed too much, portends
trembling of the earth
And smoke eclipsing the sun.
'Death I breathe',
War looms again,
Life is traded in forfeited currency.

I see the world functioning,
I know one or two tricks too to cheat,
To assault, to ****, to loot.
I can foresee the end—
Its good to die starving then
Fly in the proximity of land.