"hearsays" poems
Alone with this desk,
And a notebook chock-fulled with paper;
Endless.. he chomp everything away.
Things truly aren’t easy,
The silence makes it harder.
Hey music, fill the air;
For not all truths,
But laughs of frauds may break out.
Just like the old days.
Just like the lady boss,
Just..maybe.
There should be dancing all around,
Where crowds should chip in
And take things in stern.
Errands were not decors –
Trespass! Like mini ciphers,
Digits, letters, they knock the drill out.
Only a couple more days left,
But in ignominy,
This generation may fall;
How pitiable..
With such marks and inkblots,
The source remains unrecognized.
They’re used to seize papers like that,
Although such are committing theft already.
Left were words,
Can’t spell it unerringly;
Yet the hearsays divulged its address,
So now, it’s time to slam this tome;
End the toil that has always been the crook!
Go outside,
For the sun’s rays are there!
Goodbye to this aged chair,
And to this notebook full of nicks,
With new freedom,
We shall embrace..
Everything.. “Ciao” to what’s new,
‘Coz this is the real world!
Oh college days!
(7/25/13 @xirlleelang)
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
I am not reliably informed whether it were
hearsays or rumours, but it feels like an
apocalypse.
I neither relate to gauche nor belligerence
Connoisseur not cynical but I've been made an
adjective,described as a Curmudgeon.
See I have enemies, camouflage had to I, but
then it seems to cloud my judgement like an
eclipse.
These people are all schoolbags
because they said this behind my back.
Unbeknownst to me
I am a Curmudgeon.
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 9:02 PM UTC
Let’s dally in pain
coat ourselves in coal
as we await the apocalypse
when the diety will declare
death to the society
death to the communion
death to the society
Let’s the emotional turmoil
become the boil that bursts
all the unhappy drafted chants
when the diety will declare
death to the society
death to the communion
death to the society
All the clouds will burst
with chalks of clay
those chunks that mend
As we amend to a neutral
at the leyline of a sublime gift
where the interface of energy
draws attention to the waning moon
under the shear of unwanted hearsays
as such a time is drawing nigh
As their sacrifices drown the night
At the crossroads where ...... two wrongs never make a right
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 4:51 AM UTC
I sit alone.
Half tempted to walk
across the room to eyes
that know my lies.
Gesture out willingness
and hope she reads
between the lines.
She has the mark of past beauty,
perfect for the eccentric age.
Flat cheeks flushed
but never reddened.
Eyes that catch gazes,
seemingly all knowing.
Undermining my expressions then,
but since never showing.
We sit together.
She speaks of selfish men
And I speak of conniving women.
She insists we aren’t all like that,
even in our dismay.
Just left swimming,
lost in someone else’s bay.
We both made our demands
And swore hearts
had been beaten.
Now laughing at our hearsays,
Laughing to still be living.
I wish I could sweep away her browns.
Her hair,
it's always dangling.
Those potent lips
I will not confuse,
instead beauty from a simpleton,
just misconstrued.
Mar 8, 2010
Mar 8, 2010 at 11:02 AM UTC
Share me the light you’ve won with efforts
Not lazy; I'm just too weak to learn anew
My bones crack, my brain's old, my spirit dims out
I don't have the strength to replant what once grew
These screams in my ears are too real
This pang of pain, this grief; excruciating
“Just jump into it,” they say, with no feel
They’ve never lived, yet keep advising
I set up my own path, a line of antique bricks
It ran from my backyard to the village temple
And ruined it was, by men hunting for relics
While I was on a trip to preach and fix a muddle
I built a new path in the next following days
A stronger one, lined with fine wooden fences
And I left again to dispel lies and hearsays
Protecting strangers from possible offenses
Coming home to find my soul path torn down
I reminded myself, "They knew not what they did"
I fixed it once more, then went to a sacred town
All prayers to gods to take care of what I built
Years after blessing mortals and doing good,
I returned to my lovely birthplace and cried
Seeing my house flat on the ground, my path removed
I told myself, “This slight unease won’t take my light”
I could weave wisdom from unlikeliest sources
Stones, mountains, a witch’s curse, a ghost’s wail
I've turned many wounds into revered forces
A weakling to strength, a stuck ship to sail
Too busy with other people’s plights
I thought my light was self-sustaining
It was not eternal as I was told—it died
Had to pretend it was there and burning
The sun of my youth has set in the west
Under the dark, I’m now awaiting stars
Despite its howl, I’ll force my heart to rest
None I can teach it, but accepting its scars
Share me the light you have learned
This passing time I cannot back turn
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 3:29 AM UTC
They said it was normal,
Another said it was tragic,
Hearsays and whispers,
Filled with bad endings,
His trembling figure,
Her hopeless stance,
Yet everyone has a say,
In this private dance.
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 12:28 PM UTC
Unhinge the skin,
Negate the senses;
Cut out that grin;
Open your ears to the voices;
Make your pain akin,
Flood your mind with hearsays;
Oscillating, your head'll spin,
Ringing sounds'll follow you in all places;
Trapped without reasoning; discipline;
Apprehended by the past's corpses;
Blazing are the chances that's bore thin;
Losing all comprehensible choices;
Ending fouler than sheepskin.
Immobile are they, but still widespread like disease;
Nothing but the demons that play deaf to your pleas.
Close the doors that were open;
Open the doors once closed.
Mend the pieces once broken;
Find yourself occupied, yet bored.
Overcome the path of the demon once risen;
Reveal what truth there is discord.
Taper the pain with pun.
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 4:18 AM UTC