#castaway
And when
The Sun rises
Some gets it's shadow
Some, it's light
But still, they wait
To rise it again
Everyday
In their side
Once again when
The sun rises
Some gets it's shadow
Some, it's light
Sep 20, 2020
Sep 20, 2020 at 2:33 AM UTC
How long?
Four years maybe five
Still alive
Survivor of a storm
At least it's warm
And fairly flat
Except for the hill
Which I still
Climb every day
It's the only way
You could see a sail
I have to believe
That I will leave
My sandy jail
Do I need to explain
It's the way I keep sane
The thought that there might
Be a touch of white
Sailing the blue
Is what gets me through
Yet another day
As a castaway
Feb 12, 2020
Feb 12, 2020 at 3:53 PM UTC
With you, I never earned,
The power, to intervene.
I feel invisible, most times,
It’s how, it’s always been .
You never gave me,
What I gave, without thought.
An ear for the stories,
Of the worldly wars, I fought.
This distance on the map,
Added to what, you outgrew,
This cup infused with my love,
Wasn’t the strongest brew.
I felt powerless, most times,
You were out of my reach.
There I sat alone, sighing,
Staring at stars, on a beach .
Did you look at the sky?
Feel the strings pull and tug?
Even if you felt it, ever so slightly,
A wormhole to you, I would’ve dug.
You decided for the two of us,
And cloaked me invisible.
You never gave me any power,
Over your life, to cause any trouble.
I wished, the promises you made
Didn’t come with an expiry.
Even in death, I will keep mine,
This love remains, my burden to bury.
I was so easy to put away,
I never caused any drama,
Treated me like an acquaintance,
Washed me off your karma.
You stopped acknowledging me,
Moved on with your vice,
Who was I to intervene now,
And give you any advice .
You made me into a stranger,
I knew you, from many lives before,
I live this life without you now,
This hurt will last for many more.
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 8:49 PM UTC
my Father wrote poetry in younger years
of love and loss
his joy
his fears
i discovered his work tucked away in a drawer
castaway drifter
returned to the shore
who was this man of sentiment
whose gift of prose is long since spent
who spoke so rarely
and laughed not at all
i knew him not
beyond the wall
that stood in stone
grew stronger with age
his soul now resides
in this book
on this page
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 9:54 AM UTC
"Over here"...
but nothing.
The scene continues
unabated by my presence.
Plastic smiles and lustful eyes
bountiful but not for me..never me.
In the mirror' s unforgiving gaze
I am unrecognizable
Replaced with a crude rendering
of my previous likeness
fashioned by children
with lumpy imperfect clay.
Silence replaces loving laughter
that used to follow my witty banter.
Silence and stares. Sympathetic stares
tinged with smugness and fear.
"Over here...over here..."
still nothing.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 11:06 PM UTC
I saw the tears trickled down his face
Just like a spared crystal
Unrecognized.
I saw his fist, trembling
As if he clutched his own heart inside it
Shattered.
I saw his lips, shaking
As if he can't let out even a single sigh
Unheard.
I saw his love
Like a moon
It's a Castaway.
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 1:00 PM UTC
dragging old shoes through the sun-kissed pavement,
dodging every fissure that scars its tar,
a wrinkled spirit urges to arise
from the bottom of a buried suitcase.
the wordsmith who spat smooth prose into ears
to calm the tidal waves marring dense chests,
abandoned the rib cage he resided
but won't stop pounding on doors for rescue.
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 1:21 PM UTC
What do you do if you get off the bed
and find that you haven´t finished
dreaming of the sea?
The problem with this dream is that
there´s always more sea to sink
than islands to be a castaway.
You are going to get tired of swimming, eventually.
Mayhaps you will come out alive of this,
or maybe it´s time to learn how to be a fish.
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 1:29 PM UTC
I could spend an eternity
alone on this island
with only a string and hook
and still catch feelings
instead of fishes
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 5:13 PM UTC
I'm a selfdestructive mess
The only person
who I honestly hate
is myself
I want to crack the mirror
when I see
this green-eyed girl,
who looks back at me
I'm not her,
She ain't me
This is a fact on which
we both agree
'Cause I'm not sure on
who I am
I only know
That I'm no man
The only thing,
which I know about myself
Is what kind of music
that can make me
Smile
when I want to cry
and live
when I want to die
It cheers me up
when I feel down
It lends me a hand
when I hit the ground
But sometimes not even music
is enough
to cheer this selfdestructive mess
up
Don't worry
I'm not cutting myself
Instead I write on my body
with a pen
Lyrics from the song
which my phone play
heh, today it was the text from
Castaway by Green Day.
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 6:47 AM UTC
My mind is lost.
Stranded deep within an ocean swimming with Sharks.
I am out of my depth.
Submerged within the infinite abyss that is my own doubt.
I'm drowning in my sorrow.
Torrential waves of judgement rain down upon me,
I blame myself.
For I am a Tempest,
And I deserve no less.
Eqrilibrium restored.
I ride the tides to wash ashore upon the banks of my self assurance.
Oh, what lies I tell myself.
This island of solitude
Is a frightening place.
But its where I belong...
Because I cast them all away,
So here I remain. Alone.
A 'Castaway'.
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC