"signalling" poems
Oozing charm and fluency, over exuberantly, without vanity or pride or an arrogance of mind
remaining humble and kind
looking just fine
Not with the fittest physic or perfect teeth, manicured hands drenched in gold leaf
Or a sharp suit and tie which underneath emptiness lies
But a beauty that shines bright like a beacon
signalling hardship, success, failure, determination
Strong and truthful
Unapologetically flawed
Lost youth and adult gains
Ageing memories and hunger pains
slight wrinkles, cheeks with dimples
passion,
it's quite simple
perfection is meaningless
It lacks personality and taste
Humility, humour and good grace
The hard times you stared point-blank in the face
However, on the other hand
It's like you're from another land
Im lost
In your perfect imperfections
Filters and airbrush aren't a true reflection
Of the life you've lived of the story you've told
When you've been weak when you've been bold
what made you happy or caused you stress
How you like to chill and rest
Or put your mind and body to the test
I want to see what makes you, you
I long to see it all
For its what makes you beautiful
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 2:02 PM UTC
Know that my heart beats for you...
Every crank of the wheel, turn of dials...
Leading to my every breath and every sigh
Wishing every moment would stay a while...
Unaware of themselves hard at work,
The cogs in my mind are constantly spinning...
The gears in my head are lodged in place...
Cogs and gears like clockwork, carelessly turning...
Like a factory of sorts,
They keep churning out ideas.
Conceived notions that only had been
Spawned by my mind's nucleus...
Blinking lights signalling ways,
And means to sweep you into the air,
Then leave you lofted for second....
Without a trace of fear or care.
At that moment, what I'd give to just admire...
You floating against a backdrop of stars.
An image frozen in infinite.
An image free from blemishes or scars.
Then when gravity claims you back,
You'd fall the most graceful of falls...
A fall in the slowest of motion.
A fall led by my loving calls.
Fear not darling for my arms would be there...
To catch you and hold you close in a tight embrace.
Cheek to cheek, chest to chest... You'd then know that,
Cogs and gears spin only for you in this very same place...
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 10:44 AM UTC
She was the rain
when I was spring
but summer became I,
alas it was just a fling
Naked branches in a
dendritic pattern
fastening on to leaves
as Fall fell.
But drives away the soft snow
the blizzards unwanted
a stormy winter
unexpected
Skyward, the dark side of the moon
drawn to the faint traces of light -
continuously teased the edges
of the forgotten surface
obsession consumed I
to start a spin
I grow to become the
hunter only to see
the chamois conquering
my struggle
like an insect trapped
in the strings of
the eight legged
she beast
beating a
rhythmic tune
signalling a
tell
tale
heart
the end of me
no bang
only a cleaver
silently shushing
with an overdrawn
whimper
and
repeat.
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 3:31 AM UTC
I wait for you to come closer,
To draw closer and tell me
That you can't deal with me
Any more. Not with my
Insane, bordering on
Psychotic, behavior, and
My bipolar mood swings.
But, you draw closer
And you smile right at me,
And draw me into a hug
For a second, that little voice,
Which I am always aware of,
Which tells me I'm never
Going to be good enough
For anyone to accept or like,
Let alone love,
Fades to the back of my mind.
I let myself relax
Into your warm embrace and
I let myself be and believe.
I turn to smile at you...
Before I can see your face,
Your features, I am woken up
From my daydream
By the bell signalling the
End of school. I pack my bag
And head towards my carpool,
My movements sluggish-
Even cheerily wave goodbye to
A few stragglers.
I reach home and eat lunch alone.
I go for tuition, let myself
Become numb to everything
But learning and understanding.
It becomes darker and it's almost 8,
I come back home again.
I had been out from 7 in the morning.
This time, my family's there and
We eat dinner together, though,
I am barely there with them.
They're discussing important
Things like business and will
Talk to me later. I finish eating
And go sleep. Tomorrow's going to
Be the exact robotic same.
Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 7:53 AM UTC
birds of a feather
no one has put
two and two
together
daisies gone
Occam’s razor
and he
our common denominator
no monsters under his bed
but in it
scars ripped open
I thought had healed
hurt to heal
heal to hurt
words I had never spoken
out loud before
hot lava
righteous anger
memory loss &
found negatives
was that a kindness?
to ply me with alcohol so that I wouldn't remember?
two weeks
no sleep no eat
hurt to heal
heal to hurt
a new hurt
to contend with
suddenly ghosted
back in the dark
like all dark
eating away at light
till only the stars remain
maybe signalling
to one another
I see you, I see
you, I
see
Oct 3, 2020
Oct 3, 2020 at 9:20 PM UTC
Most of us are familiar with
The escapism from pain.
For an easy and cheap solution
Or because of advices of the
Doctors, psychologs;
Most of us get a cheap piece of matter
Triggering the oscillation of dopamine,
Making most of us addicted to them
As well as being harmed
As the result of their side effects.
Even the teens intoxicate things
Causing these things.
Some of call this signalling matter
Nicotine or alcohol.
Others call drugs as well as
Medicines having great side effects on
Our psychology that means
Our minds, feelings and importantly
Our souls.
How these piece of matter
Deletes your pain?
Simply, by affecting your
Biologic structure.
This causes the cage of
Emotions and behaviours
Freezing your actions and thoughts
As well as mostly
The cage itself.
This stabilization of actions therefore,
Decreases the capability of
Varying the actions.
What you can do,
You are capable to do.
Capacity is the power.
Lesser power lesser creativity.
All in all
Nothing more than robotic step
You all do in all.
By lesser creativity,
What you do becomes
Completely addiction.
No good, no bad;
Only the robotic step
You all do.
So subject becomes object of
External distraction.
In the hellish world,
You are distracted to hell.
A piece of addictive matter
Ends with
Painful robotic suffering
Until you fade away.
But the music, music, music
Is the harmonious effective vibes of
Yourself.
This music can do anything,
Instead of freezing you only if an only.
This music can do anything,
By transforming the self by
Twisting you through making you
Its beautiful voice.
We classify the music
In account of its causes.
But material cause is not the music.
Instead, the elegance of meaning
As well as the shining effect
Is the music.
It is the music that will
Create the best in us!
Make the best of us!
Hold the best of us!
Than you may say,
I want music but this is poetry.
Than I say,
Poetry is the music of the words.
It is the music of life
Will the shining ray of creativity.
It is the music of life
Will the kingdom of heaven.
Its the nectar in form of music
Being the music of nectar,
Becoming the nectar of the music!
Music creating music
In seem of poem.
Catch it, follow it!
Better than any drugs.
Music creating music
In seem of poem.
Say it! Sing it!
Better than anything!
It is the best, you desire!
We call it, you are welllllllllll...
Nov 7, 2019
Nov 7, 2019 at 10:32 PM UTC
She
Rides around the supermarket -
Got her head on tight.
She
Rides around the supermarket -
Got to flow.
She
Steals glances with a gun and
Runs away.
She
Steals children with a gun, so
Start to pray.
The
Final bells are signalling
Hell to pay.
The
Final bells are heralding
The judgement day.
I am broken waters and made of scabs.
I'm a broken down drink of water, laced with scabs.
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 10:29 AM UTC
My mother used to bake cookies with me when I was young
Intricate designs of colored icing that varied with the seasons.
They were always perfect and looked far to good to suffer the crime of eating.
For half a century I always baked cookies for the holidays
Whilst my children grew tall and independent with no apparent
Interest in baking
As the pale blue winter light falls into my kitchens I see myself
Cutting shapes and painting colors a silhouette on the shadows of the wall.
Placing the last cookie into a Christmas scene can I
Arive at the hospital and sit next to her in the ICU
I see her frailness the alarm in her eyes as she recognises me
But is yet unable to enunciate her thoughts.
Silence as loud as thunder fills the room the seams of the walls are stretched to their limits.
The outer limits beep of the monitor acknowleging her heartbeats
Counting down each one until the last.
I miss our intimacy in that long ago kitchen
And the random thought enters my mind
I am her only child and she is my only mother.
The monitor rings an alarm a code blue
Signalling the end of her like the end of a football match.
I feel the loss of her like a razor blade cutting my flesh.
And as I leave her for the last time
There seems to be a a mortality in the measured unknown days ahead and the cans of cookies yet to be baked.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 2:04 PM UTC
Behind the evening's golden glow
The skies are hiding early snow
The road leads homeward toward the glow
Day is done, it's time to go
The gold shows ending of the day
The clouds show snow is on the way
Time to ride and not to stay
I've got to put this one away
Amber fills the autumn skies
Signalling the storm behind it lies
It's time to say our fair goodbyes
And be serenaded by coyote cries
The golden sheen is the sign
Your day is done, as is mine
I'm heading west along the line
Back to the ranch "The twisted nine"
A golden glow before the clouds
filled with snow, a winter shroud
I know the wind is getting loud
So I am off to beat the crowd
Behind the evening's golden glow
The skies are hiding early snow
The road leads homeward toward the glow
Day is done, it's time to go
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 9:02 PM UTC
They're dividing up my grandmother's jewelry,
An act that feels more final than death.
I like to think she rests easy as she watches
The women she loves wear what was once hers.
They ask me to choose my top 3 pieces,
And how do I?
How do I choose which pieces of her I want to wear on my body
Like armor, like memories of made of gold or silver?
How do I choose between her trip to the Met Museum
Or the pin with the propeller signalling she was the
First licensed female pilot in the state of Kentucky?
What does it say about me this is the one time I wish she hadn't gotten her wings?
I want to wear her artist spirit.
I already have her poet's blood running through me.
This woman, in all her fiery, tender ways
Touches my life.
I hope she'd be proud I'm wearing her jewelry.
So many decisions to make.
Nov 8, 2020
Nov 8, 2020 at 9:13 PM UTC
High ground
I concede to you
in the disproportion of a time allotted to you
for the choice of robe to grace
a glorified cameo around your flesh
like a sheet designated for an overthrowing
in an honorary statue's unveiling
Liturgy is looming in the bathroom
already hot-boxed in the metal waterfall's
mist of moisture and the mountain range of bubbles
I have settled comfortably into in wait
High ground
awaits your hallowed prance
into the concealed languish of your man's
dangling imagination
I salute you with incentive
through a lowering of eyes made necessary
by your towering above my horizontal soak
I'm beseeching you to wield royal sway
over the humility of my reclined posture
with the hidden scepter of your body
fated to dictate the pace of my
anticipated knighting
The gentle thud of fabric on linoleum
incites a turning of my head to take in
the litany of parts available to my
frenetic feels and jumbled focus
Stationary in your naked smile of proximity
you extend to me excessive time to entertain options
as I coat myself in lukewarm opportunities
and rise to meet you for a bathing in my excess wetness
I accelerate my exit to negate the bubbled tribuataries
sliding to the floor to meet the remnants of your mystery
The wall is cold and you protrude
haplessly to meet the rapid chilling of my undried frame
Warmth is of the essence
Fingers split your hair in celebration
of our uniform heights and I feel you slouch
signalling our first hint of friction
and a twitch in my diviner of your cradle of essential warmth
Do you realize you now rescind creative license?
Or have you filled the snare of your intentions?
Now your balance shivers in the mercy
of my curled leg of leverage
and an coiled arm collecting your ambrosial attributes
like an ice cream scoop
Uniform heights allowing eye contact
makes optional the visual acknowledgment
of my elastic hunting in the smooth field of your breast
with a dancing thumb
I connect and latch onto what is now
our binding axis and shuffle eye contact
with the universal rhythm of a pelvic power ballad
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
A gloomy day is upon us when the leaves fall,
glistening under the sun as they slowly make their way to ground
Like the wave of a hand, flopping inward and out,
as it motions goodbye.
When the sun is setting and bleeds into the sky
with the oils of a canvas of war
****** red, sinking into the horizon,
gradually burying itself into Earth.
And when the birds decide to leave us in winter,
heading North, like an arrow below the clouds,
signalling to our safety, but we stay nestled around;
we cannot fly.
When the stream’s path has been broken,
and gravity summons the waters to the deadest of ends,
a puddle of joy is formed,
for us to bathe away our sins.
When stars shimmer in the darkest of night
false wishes, like false hopes,
but we look at them and smile.
We marvel at this beauty,
because we wish our partings were as breath-taking.
We wish our tears didn’t look so ugly,
and our hearts wouldn’t ache
and our breaths weren’t so shallow,
as we realize it is time to say farewell.
In nature, everything comes back,
The sun rises again, the leaves grow,
and the birds return to their land,
stars are reborn even waters feed our plants.
But we, we stay just where we are,
and learn to redirect our melancholy,
our energy,
to nature…
Underground.
Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 9:06 AM UTC
Here we are again standing on the precipice of war
Paralysed by the past and the greed of our forefathers
While the inside battle has raged since birth
Good enough? I think not.
History only repeats its worst parts
They saw a green orb signalling GO GO GO
Faith in illusion the yellow-blue glow
Look but don’t touch! You’ll break it child!
But, they silly foolish daisies flitter flutter in the breeze
What nature? What love? What future? Roars the uncanny double
As it reappears, so much better now at creating disposable monstrous insects
Death? Very well, I guess we accept. We’re ***** for pain
But why walk into the river with rocks in your coat?
You’ve never been to war they gloat
As the wax drips steadily sealing our fate
And so those monstrous insects march by one by one
Hurrah! hurrah! here we go again old sport!
Jul 8, 2024
Jul 8, 2024 at 1:33 AM UTC
She then wears her special smile
an inamorata's conspiratorial
signalling her arousal, need to get me closer
right there in a room full of people
all of us in the midst of serious business.
I have deep yearning in my eyes
that in turn sets fire to her love central
we burn to be in each other's arms
lovers in exile, commandeer private moments
deflecting watchful eyes of jealousy
every time our secret rituals of amour
take unexpected arms and win wars.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 8:09 AM UTC
The firelight was fading
The shadows grew in size
In the distance if you listened
You could hear the faintest cries
Of coyotes and of timber wolf
Signalling the end of day
Howling at the growing moon
Keeping night spirits at bay
The last piece of the sagebrush
Was burning to it's core
The flames that danced as quicksilver
Now, they danced no more
The fire, once was blazing
It's flames a dangerous height
Was now a nest of coal chunks
to warm us through the night
Four days out and three to go
We'd be in two days ahead
The scheduled trip with this years herd
And we'd be back in our own bed
A smaller group of beef this time
But, that's the way it goes
At least we'd leave the mountains
Before the early snows
Coffee from the morning meal
Was still sitting in the ***
Two minutes in the embers
And it was steaming hot
The first round of watch was up
And the coffee was re done
The second watch, for wolves and things
Needed coffee and a gun
Two went down the first night out
We heard the wolves, but missed them all
They'd been following us for three days now
And at night you'd hear them call
They signalled that the day was done
And that the herd was staying still
The darkness was their element
It was time for them to ****
The fire was near finished
The flames were all but smoke
but that cup of cowboy coffee
put life into this old grey cowpoke
If the wolves kept at a distance
And just kept howling at the moon
We'd lose no more beef tonight
And be home two days from noon
The fire spit and crackled
The night was damp and cold
The stars were silent beacons
To the wolves so quick and bold
We heard them in the distance
Howling loud as if to say
Will you make it through till morning?
Wait until we come to play.....
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 12:11 AM UTC
it is cold, and you're walking, and you can't see your feet
you're numb
not just your face and hands
but everything
detached
unable to distinguish from emotions now
and emotions then
you're walking down the road
and the stars are shining
headlights flying past, rocking your body
threatening to pull you under and break you,
crush you and your mind
and everything else
you're walking down the road, and the moon is low and dark and the sky is otherwise empty
lets say that your eyes are closed
but the drivers eyes are also closed
in the car behind you
and you, perched precariously
toe the white line between death and a dirt road
everyone, it seems, is waiting
for something unknowable
a feeling
a thought
a pat on the back, signalling that everything's okay
everything's allright
it's just fine
go back to sleep
ignore the questioning looks and just
relax
the man in the tan trenchcoat is looking for you
his brothers, his family
disapprove, but
why not
you're not a bad person
after all
you've done bad things, yeah
made bad decisions, yeah
but overall
what's so bad about sleeping in hotels when the back of your car
is not as comfortable as it looks
so you're desperate
and he's desperate
and you keep missing each other
the looks and idle touches
while comforting
scare you
you are not a person who feels
so you cannot feel the stubble whispering over your skin
and you did not swallow openly
and stare across the tables as his blue eyes watch you
he doesn't judge you
and for that
you love him
wait.
no.
you don't love him
because that would be wrong, and decades of reinforcement are telling you this
but honestly
if he just loved you back...
there's that word again
the lights over the Arby's are hovering 100 feet above the ground
and you're freezing and alive
and maybe you wish you were dead
but you're not
and that's what really matters
probably
you hope.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 4:15 PM UTC
Moonlight; just enough to illuminate the silhouettes creating the forest -
just enough to help the sky glow; a black ocean freckled with stars, so modest.
With tiny chimes in the distant wind of the flickering trees
signalling the beat of pure white galloping hooves heard over the silent breeze.
A myth? Perhaps. Or, more believably, the strength of the woodland?
She casts a playful spell upon us all with her charm easily, as if planned.
Wild and free, full of purity and innocence; she brings excitement
and is a reminder to never grow up but stay full of enchantment.
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 4:29 PM UTC
All those words
I should never have said
All those thoughts
That entered my head
Misreading situations
Placing false allegations
What am I doing here,
my mind is so unclear,
My windscreens fogging up
I'm drowning in the silence
All I want is to hear
Your voice calling out my name
It's not the same
Without you here
I can't bare to watch you leave
And I've made mistakes
It's okay, it's my fault
I'll take the blame
I'm sorry for causing you all this pain
It's not the same
It's not the same
without you here
I'm sorry
For ripping apart your heart
I'll make it up
I'll make it up
And I'm sorry
For creating all these scars
I'll patch them up
I'll patch them up
I'm sorry for giving up
I'll make it up
(Just wait and see)
I'll make it up
I will make it up
How could I have caused such hurt
When I really love her
How could I not have seen the signs
She's been signalling all this time
How can I take back all I said
I've just gone and changed everything
I don't want this change
Don't want you to go away
Please stay, please stay
I'm reaching out my hands to you
I'm reaching out my hands to you
It's not the same
Without you here
I can't bare to watch you leave
And I've made mistakes
It's okay, it's my fault
I'll take the blame
I'm sorry for causing you all this pain
It's not the same
It's not the same
without you here
I'm sorry
For ripping apart your heart
I'll make it up
I'll make it up
And I'm sorry
For creating all these scars
I'll patch them up
I'll patch them up
I'm sorry for giving up
I'll make it up
(Just wait and see)
I'll make it up
I will make it up
After all, we have been through
After all this time
I'm losing you like this
Because of my selfish antics
How could I not see
How much you were hurting deep down inside
I'm supposed to be your protection
The one that you could turn too
Never should have let you
Fight these battles on your own
I've made mistakes
I've made mistakes
Yeah I hope and pray
That one day you might forgive me
It's not the same
Without you here
I can't bare to watch you leave
And I've made mistakes
It's okay, it's my fault
I'll take the blame
I'm sorry for causing you all this pain
It's not the same
It's not the same
without you here
I'm sorry
For ripping apart your heart
I'll make it up
I'll make it up
And I'm sorry
For creating all these scars
I'll patch them up
I'll patch them up
I'm sorry for giving up
I'll make it up
(Just wait and see)
I'll make it up
I will make it up
I love you so much
I'll repair your heart
From the damage that I've done
I'll make it up
I'll make it up
I love you for all you are
Shine bright my star
Shine bright my star
I love you for all you are.
©2017 Written By Benji James
Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 4:31 AM UTC
Choosing doesn’t matter much as choosing to be a somebody, would matter… If not for the totality that is the whole (“trying bit”). Trying is like the ultimate reaction time! Not because it has anything to do with choosing something whether or not it’s good or bad, whilst (choosing doesn’t matter) could actually benefit your own (trying phase) into a (somehow) newer light. Why you may ask of this very detail that seems to not shed any more “obvious” light to what’s already been the most obvious of ideals chosen to be the main majority of facts by today's standards…? Well it completely doesn’t. As it entirely does, also. You see both choosing to do something whilst (trying to simply do that very thing) aren’t the same by ANY standards. As their both each other’s direct counterparts! Given standards for a given achieving rate. None will cause you to trade ideal for fact towards choosing over trying. Simply because if choosing doesn’t matter one bit… It’s also fair to say that trying is the ultimate reaction time, because choosing doesn’t matter. Trying is closer to a stimulus. Whilst choosing is closer to a response. A stimulus is better described as being incredibly instinctive. Where you have NO motion, except for what your mind feels when constantly being pulled in so many directions it doesn’t know which way to advise itself otherwise. Commonly being used as a “deterrent for disaster” when being controlled by the very thing it’s meant to control. A response however, is nothing without its stimulus to direct the trigger that at which made you react towards firstly. Warping your very bodies need to get wrapped up into itself. (More direct artificial stimulus rises and falls confusing the bodies signals…which politely anyways sends back to the mind safely.) Threatening to shower even more reactions down on itself from the literal inside out! Nevertheless, this was good for the mind. Gave it some closure as the “god of your own body”! Mind could personally get back at the body for pulling it into thinking it was the god! When truthfully, it was simply the deprived mortal acting as the constant, repeating, signalling pack mule! Hast to know its place after all… Am I right…?! The mind said, confident in its very words. All because the body reacted to something it inadvertently forced the mind into thinking it was being pulled around in so many directions, it didn’t know how to otherwise order its entire counterpart to simply halt! Simply by saying…STOP! However, you must know by now in today's age, that when something is amiss, you don’t simply surrender lightly. Especially when it doesn’t feel right. You ALWAYS listen to when something doesn’t FEEL…RIGHT! Am I right…?!
Jul 17, 2020
Jul 17, 2020 at 3:06 PM UTC
There ain't real salary, wages, or full time
only disgruntled currency and
spoiled company that left the
milk out after breakfast while flashing
Nike sneakers, Motorola phones, burying
a forgotten geometric axiom, bestowed
with several hammers, in the
place where angels fall from trees
when you shake up their limbs ,
threaten to pull their hair. Sleeping used
to be a victim-less crime until I left
you swinging all by your lonesome
even when dad was shaking me awake
at two after two. Noon. I
was up, down, in and backed out sideways
through a diagonal cave that
was flooded by Europeans
who lost their leather shoes
trying to find Truth by
shutting themselves inside out
Even if God turns out to
be dead or under a trance
because he found his true love
wearing ***** pants, folded backwards
and frayed at the shins, while
she's got holes on inside her
thighs and the final schema,
parallel to the referee
signalling for the bell that's
situated behind environmentally
friendly nuclear bombs that
Bin Laden used to get at a discounted
price and sold them to America
marked up 3 fold. They'll burn medicinal
plants besides the **** in your
backyard and feed us cancer while
selling us over-priced tickets to
watch over-paid men play with
***** while those on wall street
pull out their carving knives
on the turkey that was too dried
out that upon entry it burst
into a double helix of poisonous
rat-tails that fell off Zeus when they
shattered his lightening in the sand
and opened the glass to the forbidden
triangle of the man with ***** soiled
wrinkled hands, placing his spine out for all to see
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 2:17 PM UTC
I
For the best time to learn how to swim is when you are drowning,
The right moment to live is when you feel you’re dying,
Be not afraid of the unfamiliar, of uncertainties,
That are disguised in forms of hundreds of questions and opportunities.
II
The life we live is a series of narratives,
Of wins, of losses, of growing seeds and falling leaves.
Be prepared for plot twists and guest characters,
As your role will change from each time and thereafter.
III
You will feel happiness and other emotions from time-to-time,
Things that will puzzle you and leave you wondering where’s the rhyme,
All I can say is take comfort in fleeting times you’re feeling lost,
For it only means you know where you want to go -- a destination you’re about to cross.
IV
The uncharted waters might feel unsafe, risky, and sketchy,
Tread them carefully as on the other side are liberties.
Anxious? Stressed? Or perhaps startled and confused?
These are feelings signalling evolution that are being put to use.
V
Be excited to the places you will go and people you will meet.
Give everything, a wave, a smile, a meaningful greet!
You are destined to meet the You’s who are just about to be,
Greatness and possibilities are just some of what you are to see.
VI
Regrets will be in place as they will always be part of this epic,
The ones which will hurt the least on your deathbed must be the ones picked.
Remember that a day in your life when you will ask yourself questions will come,
I wish that you’d be able to answer and forgive yourself for everything you didn’t become.
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 5:19 AM UTC
Panic sinks its teeth
into my laboured lungs,
my shortened breaths
signalling their imminent collapse.
Breathe in, breathe out
I've been through this before.
It's going to be alright,
it's just a panic attack.
Walking down the crowded street
among the lucky extroverted souls,
who can blind themselves
with the cacophony created by a cold city's chaos.
Keep my eyes trained on the ground,
but keep a vigilant eye on the sidewalk behind,
To be sure fear, won't ever catch up to me.
Feb 26, 2020
Feb 26, 2020 at 7:53 PM UTC
the night is silent
the sound of leaves rustle
along cracked pavements
you scuff your shoes on the platform
as moonlight glints
off the smooth round edges of
pebbles that are scattered along
rusting railway tracks
the wind whispers
as repetitive ringing sounds
you hear the bell signalling
the arrival of the train
the leaves once tranquil are lifted
in the thin hurricane of night breeze
and coal smoke
the train conductor reaches out
and you cautiously slip
a near faded ticket into his pinched fingers
with a simple turn of the handle
you watch your ticket shredding
and your feet step forward
into the train
inertia brings you stumbling
to the opposite side of the cabin
your hands press softly against
frostbitten windows
and your breath steams the glass
landscapes flutter by;
they are butterflies melting into the night
you run your fingers along
the battered cloth seats and tattered posters
it is cold
and the abandonment seeps into you
from the floor through the soles of your shoes
you shiver
time in the still air slows while
the scenery rushes by as the train picks up speed;
already your worries seem like history
the distance between you and reality
drags on wider but
you don't mind
as you stand in the empty train cabin
with your empty soul and empty eyes
you finally feel as if
you are safe
- - -
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 6:20 AM UTC
He created a night for him
with the dark metaphors
his poetry tossed on to the air;
from its ember buried under ashes
oozed little by little,
two drops of scared light.
Alone, in the cocoon of the memory
of her words, he distilled and drained
the magic potion of poetic expression.
In it was ingested, the intensity
of sudden lightening
that burns down everything
in to ashes
like the tides that occur high and low
what if ,at will, single source secretes
both poison and nectar?
with your eyes mutely speaking of desire
you are deft in signalling both---
the ascent of love, that creates in me
the instant capillary rise of passion
and
love's descend, as if the monsoon has dissipated
and just a sprinkling announcing rejection!
who are you, reveal your true face
poetic trance at the moment of my inspiration
or dark poetry, gushing out on it's own
from a secret spring, deeply hidden?
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 6:36 AM UTC