"pelted" poems
Floating in the Sky
Without a care tonight
Unaware the storm
All consuming, the end is nigh
Lost
My friend disappeared in the smoke
Fast
We are going to have to move
Fast
I left you behind
Oblivion
You fell
Far
Down to the ever shrinking world
Fast
Your body broke
Lost
I lost all of the pieces
I am alone
Facing the storm
Goodbye
World
I watched its antics
Down
The rain pelted
Hard
The lightning struck
As I fell
Low
Down to the ground
Lost
I appear broken
Oblivion
I scream
Pain
For the rest of my days
Till I am gone
I will die a useless death
One in a million
Ways
That no one cares
OBLIVION!
DESECRATION!
DESERTION!
SALVATION!
DENIAL!
BURNING!
OBLIVION!
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 8:43 PM UTC
I laid there, battered and bruise atop of that cold white blanket, my eyes looking up and the Back of my head pressed firmly down the snow. I took a moment and just paused, mesmerised by the beautiful dark and velvety sky, pelted with starlight. I still remember how “Zen” like that moment felt. It was a time in my life, that I just let go of everything. I felt no care, no anguish or no concern. Moments like those makes one appreciate the little things in life that we all tend to overlook.
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 10:03 PM UTC
i am the wiggling worm
writhing on the slippery sidewalk
on a cold, and dreary,
rainy day.
i weave the baleful boots
yield the pernicious puddles
on a cold, and dreary,
rainy day.
i am pelted by relentless rain
pummeled by its wanton weight
on a cold, and dreary,
rainy day.
you may ask, "why wiggling worm?
why take this cursed course
on a cold, and dreary,
rainy day?
have you no humbled home
have you no able abode
on a cold, and dreary,
rainy day?"
"i am the vivacious vagabond," i reply
"i am admittedly ambulant,
on this cold, and dreary,
rainy day.
because i must agnize affliction
i must debase duress
on this cold, and dreary,
rainy day.
if i am to appreciate the bountiful bloom
i must know the duteous doom
such as this cold, and dreary,
rainy day.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 3:25 PM UTC
what is PTSD they ask
it’s not knowing which
way is right or left
it’s not knowing how
to maneuver your own mood swings
it’s trying to find your way
through a dark maze during the night
with not an ounce of light to guide you
it’s suicidal tendencies
it’s never thinking you’re enough
it’s thinking you’re *****
it’s thinking you’re useless
it’s thinking you’re used
its thinking you’re undeserving
it’s icing people out at the second
you start to feel emotion
it’s numbing yourself to the world
it’s laying in bed
it’s not being able
to move your body
for days on end
because the pain
strikes to the bone
it’s aches
its going a year out of treatment
and you were strong
until the anniversary month roles around
and suddenly you are a glass house
with stones being pelted to the core
it’s lost years
years of life I may
never fully remember
it’s nightmares
the gut wrenching ones
that night replaying
over and over and over
but most of all
it’s guilt
for not being able
to save my 7 year old self
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 3:15 AM UTC
The clock struck midnight
With an informative pang
I couldn't face it's music
So I turned counterclockwise
But time kept moving forward
As my wisdom dissipated
Bad times I anticipated
As I wandered through life
Burdens grew
Weight added with each step
My feet started to sink into the ground
So I got in my car
And drove
And kept driving
The more I traveled
The more I witnessed
The less I talked
As I grappled with the futility and necessity of communication
The clock warned of night's approach
I decided to continue driving
Luminous fireflies pelted my vessel
Their lamps exploding upon impact against my vehicle
The ability to destroy light
Exhilarated me
And I became addicted
To extinguishing that which shines
Until darkness flooded my engine
And an abysmal order was made by my abyssal odor
I had to exit my vehicle
And consult a mechanic
He explained my engine wouldn't work
Unless my windows were down
Which solved my darkness problem
But those ****** pests pervaded my car
Their locust glow disoriented me
The slight variations of their unique displays
Manufactured chaos within the light
My eyes grew accustomed to entropy
My brain grew accustomed to impairment
Commuters noticed my erratic driving
And offered to assist me
By attempting to ram me off the road
But the impenetrable light created a force field
Impalas couldn't run through
For my light bugs too much
Buffering me from others
And driving others from me
Leaving me alone
As a giant pulsating light that never stops moving
Is this how a star is born?
Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 3:13 AM UTC
#
shackled to a notion
rubbing through wrists
in rusted remains
of beautifully easy
it's a slow bleed
through insults slung
in fear the unmaliciois
only noticed in hindsight
calling the innocent a *****
doesn't breed hate from love
the duke-yeilding cowardly lion
flings back like a monkey
##
breaststroking a marathon in tears
wading through pain I never caused
pelted with double-barrelled denial
THIS IS NOT WEAKNESS
there is no waver on my solid ground
torn flesh and compound fractures
cannot break harder than history
still, gavel strikes
in sucker punched cracked ribs
that look like a past that ain't mine
###
keep hacking off pieces
maybe I'll fit into those pretty boxes
your liars left as gifts
nasty reminders that trust has sharp teeth
maybe that's just you
biting back any hand that gets too close
pandering in placating platitudes
ain't my bag
flattery fails to flounce from unfettered friends
####
can't be beat into submission
with unspoken broken rules
can't run from a truth in plain view
this is what it looks like
to believe what you know over
what you've lived
I'm not running
I'm not biting back
I'm not going anywhere
then again, why would I
I'm not the one afraid to love you
https://soundcloud.com/user-166761247/a-fourth-in-time-to-cracked-selections-of-music
Dec 25, 2018
Dec 25, 2018 at 8:04 AM UTC
High up above the open, welcoming door
It hangs, a piece of wood with colours dim.
Once, long ago, it was a waving tree
And knew the sun and shadow through the leaves
Of forest trees, in a thick eastern wood.
The winter snows had bent its branches down,
The spring had swelled its buds with coming flowers,
Summer had run like fire through its veins,
While autumn pelted it with chestnut burrs,
And strewed the leafy ground with acorn cups.
Dark midnight storms had roared and crashed among
Its branches, breaking here and there a limb;
But every now and then broad sunlit days
Lovingly lingered, caught among the leaves.
Yes, it had known all this, and yet to us
It does not speak of mossy forest ways,
Of whispering pine trees or the shimmering birch;
But of quick winds, and the salt, stinging sea!
An artist once, with patient, careful knife,
Had fashioned it like to the untamed sea.
Here waves uprear themselves, their tops blown back
By the gay, sunny wind, which whips the blue
And breaks it into gleams and sparks of light.
Among the flashing waves are two white birds
Which swoop, and soar, and scream for very joy
At the wild sport. Now diving quickly in,
Questing some glistening fish. Now flying up,
Their dripping feathers shining in the sun,
While the wet drops like little glints of light,
Fall pattering backward to the parent sea.
Gliding along the green and foam-flecked hollows,
Or skimming some white crest about to break,
The spirits of the sky deigning to stoop
And play with ocean in a summer mood.
Hanging above the high, wide open door,
It brings to us in quiet, firelit room,
The freedom of the earth's vast solitudes,
Where heaping, sunny waves tumble and roll,
And seabirds scream in wanton happiness.
2.8k
My sister karen was a manhater
she hated all men
deliriously
she would sit on the top
of the bunkbed she shared with sue
and with one finger curl her hair
then pull it out by the roots
it was quite disturbing
she would spend hours
every saturday doing this
until she had almost no hair left
the family worried for her
During the week when I would
come home from school (I think
I was around 7 or 8) karen (being
older and bigger) would run up to me
kick me in the gut
push me to the floor
jump on top of me
grab me by the ears
and pound my head
on the floor until
my brains fell out
this went on for several weeks
until I told my parents and
they finally put an end to it
One night sue didn't want to get caught
eating an apple in bed
so she put the core in the toilet
and it clogged it
we (all four of us)
were awakened in the middle of the night
and had to line up so my mother
could beat us with a belt
until someone confessed
I was tired so I said okay
I did it
I got a good belting that night
I was suspended from school
for a week because the teacher
complained that the welts on my back
were bleeding so profusely that
lt was interrupting the learning process
of the other children
One day I was coming home from school
and I got caught in a hailstorm
I got pelted really good
Lucky for me Mr. Doty was home for lunch
so I took cover under
his light blue ford f-series pick-up truck
hail as big as golf *****
some the size of baseballs
continued to rain down
I don't know for how long
because I fell asleep
"What were you doing under there?"
he questioned as he was shaking my arm
awakening me
(I quess he thought I was messing around
or something)
I came to and stated
"THE GOLF ***** WERE FALLING
I NEEDED A PLACE TO HIDE"
"oh" he said
"you mean to tell me you were in THAT?"
"yessir" I replied
"well, your schoolday's almost over,
maybe you should go home and rest"
"yessir"
And I went home and rested
When karen turned eighteen
she married a wife beater
for nearly ten years he would
ugly 'er up
finally she couldn't take anymore
and divorced him
But she was only following tradition
my grandpa beat his wife
my father beat his wife
and al beat karen
Yep, those three knew
how to really take a beating
But, not from a hailstorm
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 1:51 PM UTC
...and there’s no one there to hear it,
does it make a sound?
________________________
My poetry performed—
before a crowd of johnny-jump-ups
Their faces toward me in unison—
they listen
Intense, motionless energy
Velvet applause of purple and
Yellow yelling!
Encore
of performing in the perfume
with a troop of lilacs
They will remember me
While I— await their return to May
through billowing miles
of drowsing sachet
breathing euphorias
between the lingerie of clouds
What happens after ecstasy?
Grieving in life’s presence?
Loss of mind to self-possession?
_________________
...and when my sense of smell gives out
I will hold on for a while
to the walker of hearing
trying not to stumble past
the song of thrush
beyond me in the blurring leaves
once so clearly—
crinkled, shiny, and infant green….
_____________
As a child I held on to nothing
for dear life
I could cup a storm in my hands!
Could run with the rhythm of a horse!
I could fly in my mind’s eye
if the ferns I used were only wings!
If I pretended hard enough
I could eat my own home-baked mud pies!
If only I could be—
more than a fledgling of eight
so earthbound, clumsy
_____________
But while the lilacs were out of town
thunder met the flash
and gutted summer!
I ran for dear life!
from the amazing distance of its echoes
pelted by its gentle gift
Snagged by growing things—
the clinging prattle
of their momentous tendrils....
______________
Lovers run off the path
past water lilies
along the swollen veins to the river
toward a grave and pounding heart
The Ancient Flood was jealous....
Now when the wind softens
and rain is tossed
last, and only from the leaves
may their encore be cupped in the hands
of some passer-by
Remembering—
that either because of a trifling wind
or the weight of time...
a tree fell here
clubbing the river’s bank senseless
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 1:44 PM UTC
Before my eyes is the war dance, the armies of light enact,
is this, one inane madness or pursuance of a vision divine?
what makes me lose my heart, to you for all the time?
White lotus of my thoughts, the blooming my every cell echoes,
we are no different, I am reminded, our union is beyond time.
Through this limitless moor, tireless miles,alone I walk,
feel your presence everywhere when the wind booms
the blazing desert sun is unforgiving, it implied this:
"I'll make him regret for his insane love, the intrepid adventurer"
even if he scorches me to death, would I ever let go of my love?"
Rain lashed, strong guests of gale pelted hailstones,
uprooted trees asked me to stop,paths became waterways,
nothing, except your face, entrenched deep in my consciousness,
was in my recall; our love,I resolved, wouldn't die, even if I fall.
White lotus of legends, in you enshrined, is my essence,
don't pretend, you are unkind and I am not in your eye shot,
for you the rules of love I'll throw to the winds, cross the river of fire,
pull out all the stops to reach you, may it be in this life or in any other .
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 9:07 AM UTC
She came to me at two thirty,
Covered in cuts and bruises.
She came to me at two thirty,
Covered in cuts and bruises.
Her hair was plastered to her face,
Her scarf, enveloping her like a python.
Hot, salty tears ran down her cheeks.
She held out her arms to me.
She came to me at two thirty,
Covered in cuts and bruises.
She came to me at two thirty,
Covered in cuts and bruises.
Bolting the doors with an anxious expression,
I pulled her close to me and whispered in her ear.
Bullets of tears pelted my shoulder,
I held on tight.
She came to me at two thirty,
Covered in cuts and bruises.
She came to me at two thirty,
Covered in cuts and bruises.
The soothing, hot sponge tingled her tender skin,
The alcohol attacked like an armada of nettles.
The hands of the sobbing carcass violently shook,
Droplets of red ink soiled my hands.
She came to me at two thirty,
Covered in cuts and bruises.
She came to me at two thirty,
Covered in cuts and bruises.
Bandaged up - the wound was blinded,
A mummified image.
I gave a watery smile and she was guided along towards the path of the shining star;
She rested, and I never let go of her hand.
She came to me at two thirty,
Covered in cuts and bruises.
She came to me at two thirty,
Covered in cuts and bruises.
Lei era al sicuro
©Maniba Kiani , 28/11/13
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
echoes fading
like words etched
on wet sand
about to be
pelted with
wave
after
wave
of salty water that
cascades like
tears on
pale cheeks
that fall
like raindrops
on dry earth
about to be
****** up and
buried
six
feet
under
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 4:21 PM UTC
Adios England's Venus flytrap
May you ever overflow inside our rectums
You were the ornament that inserted itself
Where spunks were pelted to pieces
You ********** in the open air to our promontory
And you squirted to those inside ********
Now you reciprocate to Abraham's *****
And the black holes crack spew out your barber's pole
And it seems to me you tasted your *****
Like a cigarette lighter in the diarrhoea
Never drooping with knobs on the cherry lips
When the ooze congeal within
And your smells will always regurgitate here
Along England's juiciest blast—offs
Your cigarette lighter's exploded spew out long before
Your whiff ever go the whole hog
Voluptuousness we've jiggled
These frenzied wombs of time needing your clenched fist
This lava lamp we'll always get pregnant
For our breed's fair—haired brats
And even though we have a finger in
The clean breast seduces us to moistness
All our foghorns cannot ****
The ecstasy you stimulated us throughout the age groups
Apr 2, 2010
Apr 2, 2010 at 3:21 PM UTC
I miss you
Is not enough
No words are
For the way I feel
Of you
I don't sleep
I can't sleep
I'm cold...freezing
e
v
e
n
Though my room
Is a blazing sun
And my window panes
Are pelted by the storm
Much like my tears do
To my cheeks
No
I am COLD
Because I am missing my second skin
The way you wrap yourself
Around me and within me
Completely absorbing me
Breathing you in
Until I am High
On you
Trying desperately
To remember
Your scent
As I live
Miles....Miles......Miles....
Away
Remembering Your
Warmth
Until Our Love
No longer has to be kept
At Bay
Copyright©2015 Kelly Chase
All Rights Reserved
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 9:19 PM UTC
Your words pelted me like knives.
I've tried it once, twice, and trice
I'm starting to wonder if I have nine lives
Deep, ever-lasting scars go up and down my body
I always feel like a nobody.
No one cares if I live or die
So I'll let the blood pour down my thigh.
Darkness covers my eyes
And I look at it like it's a prize.
Dead, the line went straight.
This has always been my fate.
I'm my own killer, so close the case,
Once and for all, I'm finally done with the chase.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC
The day began with tears of emotion and excitement,
And all set in His plan predestined ever before His creation
That two little souls would be united for a purpose
With God it would be revealed, but to mankind, hidden always.
Twenty four milestones have been crossed with thorns and roses trod,
No mortal on their rescue was prepared to seek them into safe arms;
Yet it is HE Who has carried the twain souls in His Arms.
Mockery lashed at them; stones pelted at them; rivalry set ‘gainst them;
Stories cooked ‘gainst them; venom spewed at them,
It was God-sent angels who hid them in their wings.
Predators set to eat their flesh and blood but in vain,
For it is His Providence That carried them in His *****
They crossed sixteen milestones, and on the way to Seventeenth,
God revealed His plan unto them with a Gift from His Arms,
And three souls have been added into His Fold.
Their Twenty fifth milestone is set to walk further,
And the three souls have laid themselves in His Arms.
Heaven crowned the three with His Golden Promise
And they shall be in His Providence till the ages go.
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 9:04 AM UTC
At yon boundaries are shrubs,
Waiting like unlit chapel bulbs,
Under are flowers also plugged,
Within wet soil, grabbing waters,
Rains once pelted withal seeds,
Into the skies they both breathe,
Under earth, worms wriggle up,
Graduating in swirls to the sun,
On blankets of grass are daisies,
Wildly napping a dreamy breeze,
Thrushes in rushes joyfully sing,
Lilt of lullabies from skies begin,
Songbirds dropping windy hues,
The giddy butterflies justly knew,
What bees do bounces, busy for,
Such patchwork paradise galore.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 1:45 AM UTC
She told me she would take a bullet for me
I was left stunned only recalling my hereditary
The horrendous guilt emerging all at once before me
Until I recognized her inactivity and realized she want listening to me
I dropped down on the floor almost instantly
Kneeling on one knee hoping her approval of me
Pledging allegiance so she knew she has the chance to consult me
Every time she recalled her children that neglected her for another woman they didn't know
Or the times she felt enigmatic to disown you
As she calls out your name begging to return home
Hearing your voice and having that bit of hope that one day
You mention her, get back to her and abide in her
playing with the golden precious sand
that make up the land which your ancestors once lived in.
I stare at the ruins that lay before me
A familiar face I stumble across
As I lift the grains of sand hoping its a person I know
Unidentified
I stand beneath the bridge hoping it will echo my freedom just like it did back home
I want to scream a thunder
but knowing its too late I'm pelted with stones
being told to go home
as I sit in font of the TV screen hoping I see a familiar face before me
My country.
Hergeysa burco barebera ceerigaabo
Our cities names was never meant to be pronounced by you
The syllabols were never meant to pass your diseased lips
And the delicacy not meant to struggle through your rough throat
But they did anyway.
Every night I see the elan in her face
Whilst providing me with the decree of a fast spree from our relationship
The visions we incarcerate together
And the identical marks and scars we endeavor
With out any confession of our pleasure we seek forever
Our heart beat beats twice as fast
Forming a rhythmic percussion
simultaneously taking a breath of Africa
I lay beneath the golden sun as the rays shine through my eyes
Proudly defining the color of my skin
Showing that none other can be akin
As I am the uniqueness of this historical country
Mogadishu, bosaaso, Los anod, barberra
Our cities names were never meant to be pronounced by you
But when we look at our stars one last time
I realized that it has been colonized too
© S Y A
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 4:36 PM UTC
It was dark and it was wet.
A barrage of raindrops pelted my innocent umbrella.
Woe is me.
Woe is he.
Woe is she.
Woe is everyone.
Who am I to complain?
I looked around.
No one in sight.
So I held me breath.
I closed my eyes.
Blood rushed to my head,
as I slowly turned blue.
It felt good,
then I exploded.
Tiny chunks of raw flesh rained everywhere.
Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 8:09 PM UTC
As the rain pelts down this New Years Eve
I form a gentle smile at my reprieve
The rain has pelted in years before
Years in which my soul would in anger roar
Lost in the wilderness of my stormy mind,
Buried in a body to which I hadn't been kind
Screaming and wailing, unnoticed, ignored
In a body forgotten, in a mind grown bored
But as with everything a change eventually came,
A chance to delve into sorrow or to remain tame
I opted for sorrow in search of some light
The only path meandering out of my dark night
There were battles and mountains, scratches and falls
Moments of despair and unanswered calls
But onwards I stumbled, tripped, crawled and fell
Finally out of my own bleak and self created hell
Tender, deflated, worn but with hope
Growing, understanding, believing I'd cope
And now I sit on my bed in this years final rain,
And remember fondly my journey, my aching, my pain
I travelled it, lived it, each high, each low
And now sitting here I smile, because I now know
It's me, It is I, She who's empowered
I who can choose to be me or a coward
It's not what becomes of us or where we each go
It's within us all, it's what we all know
I can't change my past years nor would I want to
They're my foundation, the reason I found you
The strength, the beauty, the wisdom in me
I've finally accepted it and set it all free
So I'll begin this New Year unlike those before
With no big promises but with love at my core
For myself and my loved ones, for both friend and foe
Showing compassion for all with what I now know.
The rain has abated and now I must sleep
Content in my soul, happy and deep
Light after darkness, smile after tear.
What we seek lives in each of us, Happy New Year.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 9:43 PM UTC
we own teacups
of porcelain that
make up a couple
her always filled with coffee
mine with tea
this was what became
our morning routine
to spend time until the cups are emptied
we talk about irrelevant things
matters and thoughts that do not
have acquaintance with consequence
how it'd be possible to raise goldfishes in ***** bottle
we kept for remembrance or how many cookies could
the porcelain beauty we held so dearly possibly contain
sometimes we waste a good morning
watching wisps of steam rise and vanish
like the way people seem to get out of sight after bidding goodbyes
after a certain distance they'd be nothing more than a sihlouette
and after time slowly they get out of mind
one day you'd realize
that no longer can you conjure their sihlouettes in memory nor
can you remember the way they walked away
were they off in a hurry or their footsteps
heavy as the heart the carried that very winter morning
when snow didnt fall like predicted by the weatherman the night before
(and that was when you realised the weight of goodbyes)
these are the thoughts that occupy
my mind when I wash our cups
and notice (everytime) stain rings around the innerside of the cups
three quarters full of coffee and half a cup of tea
we'd store the cups after
hers always facing left
they would sit silently never a word of complain
as such nice mannered tableware, cups are.
they'd wait silently for every next morning
to be filled, coffee and tea.
I always thought of her as a hot chocolate person
until one morning I saw sunlight caught in the dark lazy curls of her hair
until how the dark coloured liquid resembled the colour in her eyes
and came to a silent agreement with myself
how she suited coffee on lazy mornings the way
coffee suited her when she tipped her cup ever so slightly
and sipped like she'd found peace in mind
now I smile when she asks why I stopped telling her teacups are meant for tea
(that there are no absolutes in the things we do)
there are mornings she would wake to find me
already awake and silently staring at the rain pelted windows
legs crossed at the foot of the bed and singing
singing softly in russian
I'd end
always at Дорогая
and asks if she
wants coffee.
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 7:03 AM UTC
I read something from a long time ago.
And it made me cry.
The thunder outside told me to shut up.
And then I realized it was raining.
But I stopped crying.
Because I'm not supposed to, cry, I mean.
And I grabbed a cigarette.
And my zippo that says lucky on it.
Made of '04.
I love that lighter.
I went outside and lit it.
But I didn't want my mom to come out.
And see how I was.
So I started walking in the rain.
I didn't want my cigarette to get hit by the rain.
So I stuck it underneath my shirt.
And then I walked.
And while I was walking, I tripped.
I accidentally burned my belly button.
How the **** did I manage that.
I'm so stupid
So I walked to the side of the house.
There is a little porch big enough for one.
I finished my cigarette with my eyes closed.
Just listening to the rain.
When it was done, I walked up to the steps.
And I sat down, still getting pelted with water.
I realized I couldn't keep sitting, I was shaking.
So I got up and started walking towards the back of the house.
I walked to the very back, towards the alleyway.
Making sure to drag my feet in the puddles, soaking my pajama pants.
I got to the back gate.
And I started crying again.
You are hopeless, this is hopeless, what are you even doing here?
The thunder told me to shut up again.
You are wasteless
I saw my old trampoline and started jumping on it.
When I was little, I used to sing to the rain.
I would sing good songs, to try and soothe it.
Never sing 'rain rain go away'.
That's makes the rain upset.
And the thunder says to stop.
So I jumped.
And I sang a little bit.
Then I laid down and closed my eyes.
Just got completely soaked, y'know.
You are going to be okay, everything is okay.
Just felt the pitter patter of rain drops on me.
Tried to bury my zippo in my clothes so it wouldn't get wet.
Then I got up, cried a little more.
And I walked back.
I walked back towards the front of the house slowly.
You are going to be okay, everything is okay.
Dragging my feet in puddles.
I miss you Grant, I hate you Sam, and I love you..Well, you know who you are.
Just getting completely soaked.
You are going to be okay, everything is okay.
And I went inside, smiled at my mom.
Went downstairs.
And changed my clothes.
Began getting ready for work.
You are going to be okay, everything is okay.
You are not okay, everything is not going to be okay.
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 8:31 AM UTC
The afternoon was excessively humid
The earth seemed a seething hot furnace
Dark clouds were gathering overhead
Lightning drew florescent patterns in the sky
Thunder boomed and rumbled
A few sparse drops of water hit the window pane
The air grew dark, leaves shivered
Soon the rain pelted down in torrents
Drumming on the corrugated tin roofs
Spreading a dark curtain between the eye and the sky
It poured down in full fury for about an hour
In no time it flooded the ditches and hollows
But its might slackened and it vanished as quickly
As it had come, like a messenger on an urgent errand
The day was dying and I witnessed another rain
The rain of insects into the sequestered freedom of the night
Termites and white ants, sleeping in the hollows
Suddenly emerged from their lairs in thousands
Out of every crack and cranny, every fissure and hole
From under every boulder and brick
Winged termites emerged, fluttering about dreamily
Never knowing they were on their first and last flight
They all flew towards the bright light in the porch
But striking against the concrete ceiling
They fell down one by one, some losing their wings
And creeping on the floor, like wounded warriors
A quivering swarm of insects, a clumsily moving mass
This was the harvesting time for the geckos
In one and two, the lizards emerged from their hide
Flicking their tail, they stood ready for the catch
With their darting sticky tongue, they began
Devouring the insects, hastily cramming their stomachs
Until they could hold no more
When the insects began invading the inner space
I switched off all the lights and went to bed
The cool air and the sonorous but rhythmic chants of the frogs
Put my sleepy eyes into sound slumber
Early morning as I woke up
I saw the porch strewn with filmy wings of the termites
They lay like scattered chaff after the corn has been stored
Also some weak survivors, staggering to their end
I thought, to what bleak fate, the exodus of insects
Had taken off on their wings for their maiden flight!
Jun 10, 2016
Jun 10, 2016 at 7:51 AM UTC
Glowing Windows embedded into mouldy brick walls
Ivy climbing the gutters of neighbourhood roofs
Skies becoming burnt out like charred blackened fields
Tall spiny trees project shadows onto the road below
Leaves curl up to receive some weakening light from above
A formation of sputtering cars cling to each turn they decide to make
Cloudy milky light bounces off faulty windows that exhale the aroma of somebodies impending supper
A heavy truck manoeuvres itself into the blistered bitumen horizon
Dry deflated branches make obscene gestures towards passers-by
Gardeners rummage through their bags as they near the end of their working day
Their faces filled with an expired enthusiasm for breathing
Parked hunks of metal pelted with dead itchy leaves
Windscreen wipers hold fragile twigs down against grotty neglected glass
Chain-link fences link disparate housing and the sleeping people within
Some dispirited unsatisfied psychos gaze up as they catch a moving bus
Smoky Incense billows down from some apartment balcony
The air becomes cold and sharply fills these ordinary streets
Engine sounds try to supress the divine quietness
They only merge into it
Now the stars are out and about
Bright specks waddling in an aerial pool of dark blue
You turn the key and walk through the front door
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 11:24 AM UTC
Acorns keep coming loose from the tree outside and
I imagine they are being pelted at all the metal chairs on purpose
Like tiny bullets ricocheting off of bunkers, startling me awake
Oh yes, my friends
The squirrels are busy staging a happy little revolution
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 1:49 AM UTC