#ct
A 22 ct poem on gold
Dear gold
In the body of a woman
you attain elegance
lying chained to the hip
fatigue like
Endless are the times
when earlobes and foot
seduced me without you
Mere threads of yellow
will do better than you
There's a cuteness
seeing you
swing from a single ear
Nose studs, with a stare
have stung me sleepless.
The ones made of rolled
gold too
But, dear gold
You become gold
when you are pawned
Like the revolutionary
who becomes more revolutionary
when hanged
Like the soldier
who gets shot and becomes
a soldier even more
Dear gold in the pawn shop
My gold, dear gold
Translated by Binu Karunakaran
Mar 27, 2021
Mar 27, 2021 at 11:19 AM UTC
Scream, Memory
Accidents don't happen on holiday,
do they?
Standing in the shower, I stare out of
a tiny window at the setting sunlight.
In a row, children on a rustic bench
chatter through their colored ices
and kick their sandaled feet.
Soon, a tall, bland man appears
with smiles for all--this is his family
and he is happy.
His ambiance is like a drug so I leave
my caravan, barely dry,
Wanting to speak to him and not knowing why.
His good fortune draws one to him,
Yet I find another reason.
He directs me without words
to a desolate room and a gown.
And I remember...that I have not remembered
lately. And my collection of names is dwindling,
memory leaking like a wire basket.
Even before I don the ugly robe and lie down
on a cold, plastic bench,
I know what the diagnosis will be.
The cylindrical tunnel looms and his nurse or wife
motions to it as he still smiles.
The machine roars like time passing
And I emerge carefully, not wanting to know.
Seeing my expression, he turns on me:
"It is bad news, but also sad."
He tilts his head like a bird, self-satisfied.
His vacuous delight belies the words.
What the hell is the difference, I think.
And like a falling tree, reality splits the dream
And knocks down my life.
I weep, uncontrolled.
It does not help to swear
nor to hit the wall with my fist.
But would it help to slap the doctor?
People crowd around and tell me to stop
but, as I had to when my father died,
I continue to rave.
For, what is simple to them
I will not make so to me.
I will mourn and censure Fate!
And if I still must,
I will not go gently
But scream all that I remember
Into the fading light.
April 19, 2019
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 9:49 AM UTC
5-Hello Mr. Chippppp, I'm ready....
7-It is time to dine Mr Buddy.....
5-Are you an MR CT Buddy?
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 11:00 PM UTC
5- Are you an Mr. CT?
7- I am from the waters of Lake Minnetonka...
5-Please do not touch me there....
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 10:48 PM UTC
My hair is growing longer
I've lost weight - but not the bad way
this time
My new necklace
Your beard is longer too, oh it curls
What's that? Did you get that at work?
It doesn't look serious
I have nightmares
My artwork
Band logos
Smoke with me
Skylines
Tattoo ideas
Michelle's saggy **** drawn hastily and without detail
but you prefer it that way
Oh how cute
your dogs are trying to steal your pillow
I guess I can be lonely
I'll fight with nobody
except for my stuffed animals for the
empty space
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 12:47 AM UTC
I can't wait to get my tattoos.
I'll get the lyrics of all my favorite songs and poems
on my back
even though they say it's
not cool to get them where I can't see them
but you can admire them and trace them and read them
and kiss them
Will you lick my skin?
How do I taste, late at night
unshowered and covered in the day's breath?
If you promise to kiss every tattoo I get
I will get every inch of me inked
Every inch
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 12:15 AM UTC
I don't know what to do or how to handle these feelings
Then I get an apathetic streak
I treat everything with such indifference
And then I just feel pain.
I see others constant updates on how many pills they want to take.
But I feel like this is so beyond me.
Where am I?
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 3:25 AM UTC