Visible but stuck, it could give direction
With the truth of its helplessness
Few discover their stagnancy
Fewer find a reason to change condition

That’s how we live each day
Acting outside what we say

Our mouth, pointing to the kingdom
Our lives, pulling away from real freedom
Choosing foolishness over wisdom
By walking in this evil world’s custom

There won’t be reward
If they came because of you
But if they came with you
So drive the train
Rather than be just a pointer
Like a signboard


                                                                                           - Omodunmiju David

He rubbed his weary eyes...
What trickery could this be?
Was it a signboard draped in disguise
Or the reflection of light off a tree?

Seconds ticked as he drew closer.
The lady materialised to rule out prior suspicions.
His fingers wrestled over the rusty brake lever,
Wheels squealed their futile objections.

The lady wore a face he could barely see...
She had long tresses that bore an alluring fragrance.
Her beauty tipped the scales allowing him bravery,
Unafraid he asked, "Miss, may I be of assistance?"

Her voice seemed to ride the subtle night breeze,
Coating his ears like sugar laden candy.
Soft and demure... Yet laced with a hint of tease,
She had said, "I'm stranded in the dark as you can see..."

"What luck!", he thought, seizing the opportunity
He removed his sack to make space for her.
His heart raced being in the damsel's good company,
The lady slid herself onto the rack before they both rode together.

As he pedalled hard, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
Her voice came again, a tender little whisper,
*"I live rather close... Not far off from here...
A little over the hill... Just over yonder..."

Total parrot care
Cried the signboard
In the narrow sleepy by-lane
I gave it a dreamy stare.

I have been too rare on this road
Coming this way was no need
But when I chanced upon that signboard
My search ended for parrot feed.

Is there anybody there?
I echoed de la mare
Found none at the counter
Not even the shopkeeper!

Dismayed I looked around
If some human semblance could be found
But fell nothing in my gaze
Other than a parrot in a cage!

Turning to leave I was stopped by a voice
Find here sir a variety of choice
Not just parrot feed
Under one roof all that they need.

Who is speaking I asked in awe
There wasn’t a human face I saw
But could tell it with certainty
There were eyes watching me.

Don’t leave sir without the delicious pellet
Once you take it you’ve to come back
Serves well a parrot’s palate
The bird loves this crunchy snack.

It now emerged who was playing the trick
I was hearing parrot speak
None other there not one human folk
The shop was run by parrot talk!

*I scampered out with one long hop
Disappeared the lane the parrot shop
I was tossing on my sweated bed
By this funny dream that rocked my head!

The dull public ruckus of the afternoon train filled the gaps between us.
We could have been part of it,
Drowned so deep in a conversation we could gladly call our own.
But our past selves have already taken invisible
B
R
O
K
E
N
Steps away from each other.
And tucked ourselves in the tight pockets of this companionable silence
As dangerous as the trigger handled by my emotions,
A gift for your forehead.
I will shove all my pain into your being
And watch my reflection crumble to her knees with a familiar cry of agony.
Mauled into frayed flesh in a crimson rose bush
That we had woven friendship wraths from.
And yet, my rasp throat still delivered smoothly.
“How are you today?”

Your usually anticipative eyes
Watched the scenery outside,
Disappearing just as fast as it came.
Did you think of the first day of school?
When we first approached with awkward greetings?
And from a wave and a smile
You start to attach them with questions
Questions that you should be asking me now
Things like
“Do you think we will end up in the same sec 3 class?”
“Do you want to go to ORA with me?”
“Can you save your game? We already hardly bond in class.”
“Are you even listening?”
I was.
I answered every last one,
From the beginning when we stepped into homeroom.
Even the ones you’ve never even asked me.
But now that I come running to you with my stained envelope
Are you still there at your seat?
To tell me
“You know what you need? A good cup of frozen yogurt.”


Now every glance that met
Will be snapped apart like a crisp twig.
Every walk down the corridor past each other,
Will be like two freshmen models on their first runway.
Every move, breath, laughter,
I will always be aware.
Perhaps because your voice
Will always make up for your height in the crowd,
Audible from the opposite side of the hall.
And its only until I let the quietness sink in,
When I have decided to treasure listening to the way you delivered my name,
Leaving your loud mouth like some exotic font.
That till today I still cannot decipher.

What was my height in your crowd?
164cm tall with probably less than half an inch, I guess.
You never noticed how my eyes would wander unconsciously.
Just to wonder
If you still remember I existed,
Somewhere in the pages of your scrapbook,
In the crowd,
Still searching, listening attentively.

Do you understand now?
We are standing at the extreme ends of Newton’s pendulum
Spiked from the illness of our broken bonds.
And I would swing an end so hard I would skewer you
And then the pain will come
Flying back
Stabbing me just as gruesomely.
But it’s so much better
Than disobeying the laws of reciprocation.
My friend, its unfair to be the only one.
Why not requite this one heaven of a pain?

People have pet the conflicted pain like dust off me,
And ignore the bruises that I have willingly punched myself upon.
They taught me
That the heart is a 2-room residence.
Happiness
Sadness
And if you are too happy
Don’t celebrate too loudly
Because you’ll wake the neighbor.

But could it really be helped?
This 1-year worth of what you have given me
You have left 2 party animals as clueless tenants.
Did you understand?
The fact that no matter what silly things we’ve done,
You will always be welcomed home.
And we would continue to drink
Till we are tipsy enough
To walk on the edge of the bridge we have built,
And fall into the hungry rivers
Into the places darker than black
Drowning the air out of our lungs.
But what reason should I be scared,
When you have always been the best swimmer I’ve ever known?
Forever a winner to me,
No matter how many competitions you have paddled out of the pool in disappointment.
It has always been you,
Who would slip over a note to my table,
My hair spilling over its surface in defeat.
Telling me that everything’s ok.
It’s you
Who understood that I was more of a listening person.
Your missing piece to fit your outspoken personality.
You,
The one who could even challenge me to a dance-off just to have the loser ask for the ketchup.
You,
Who could go on forever about a guy you obviously like,
But only say you ‘don’t stand a chance’.
I
The diplomatic one who would arrange you,
Like files in an office drawer.
You
The one who tried to hold us together till the end.
I,
Who failed to treasure your efforts, and share this burden.

And now that you’ve turned down the volume,
And walked out of the door without a goodbye
How am I supposed to handle the next morning, when being sober is an absolute nightmare?
Left alone to wonder what I have done
While we’re drunk, carefree and
Crumbling at the seams.

My dearest friend,
Have I ever told you,
How the number 1
Has always been our own funny little number?
Now if you just take ONE step closer…
Yes, I promise this time I’ll keep my earphones away.
I would point at the signboard above the door
And muse over how your stop,
Is ONE stop before mine.
How your birthday,
ONE day after mine.
Yeah… just like how we are ONE world apart in personality.
Isn’t that why we became like this?
SHUT UP I KNOW I’M A TERRIBLE CONVERSATION HOLDER.
I CAN NEVER PUT MY WORDS INTO THE APPROPRIATE CONTEXT.
BUT YOU KNEW THAT.
You knew.
Now go ahead.
Laugh.
Like how you always do, with that wide grin that reflected nothing but forgiveness,
Stripped down to reveal absolutely no grudges.
Because I deserve it, don’t I?
Because it was my fault,
I was the one, who willingly caused this silent war,
Fraying this thread that I mistook for a hiker’s rope.
There can only be ONE survivor in this meaningless game.
Scold me,
Because there was never such a rule.
I have decided who would be standing alone,
Long ago.
The loser,
The flower that will never find its way back from its ashes.
A.
B
R
O
K
E
N.

M
E.


(hi there. Look I tried ;w;)

The quirky signboard said it in bold
Welcome to the house of Sweet Fragrance
Here your hair will be shaped in the finest mould
While you relax in blissful trance!

I stopped by this name cute and smart
A hair losing shop called Sweet Fragrance
Tempted to go in though I needed no cut
Too impressed to keep a distance!

I stepped into a house with the finest smell
With the pretext to unburden my head of some hair
It was a Garden of Eden away from hell
A dreamy languor pervaded its air!

There wasn’t in the glasses a face to look
The place seemed a haven for the peacefully mute
I was offered a chair in the dimmest lit nook
To surrender myself to the forbidden fruit!

Time stopped blurred away my sight
I felt such bliss had no second chance
Knew why Adam embraced his plight

*Succumbed to Eve’s Sweet Fragrance!

Behind a speakeasy
in a ***** moonlit alley
silhouettes climb up a tired
and worn out stairway
vacancy signboard beneath
an incandescent light bulb
marks the nondescript entrance
for the nights commerce

Outside the window ledge
a billboard hums an electric tune
between the blinds neon light
sneaks into the room
casting shadows on a naked
landscape across the mattress
spread totally disinterested
pockmark flesh limply waiting

Clumsy hands fumble
to unzip stained denims
hobbling with unsteady steps
to the edge of the bed
a drunk smelling of cheap whiskey
and ***** smiles at me with
two rows of rotted stumps
my first customer of the night

(HER:)

Waking up with distant eyes
Body numbed in its dreamscape
Still, forced to extract, remember
Unwanted scenes, a mental ****
You can’t deny nor really escape
An incoherent theater plays out
The nighttime chronological film
Your memory drills the decor
Into your emerging, lethargic brain
You strive to piece it together
It makes sense, you want an encore

My web of dreams is wrought with
People in deeply masochistic scenes
Boudoirs and antique settings
I delve in these repeated lunar sins
Inspired by or tormented in a moon fire
Some hazy mornings I remember that my empire
Comes from those profoundly symbolic rooms
Child of the cross, blessed in a white cloth…
Now naked and proud, embedded in… who?
Silky velvet eyes, dark corners and dooms…

Or, like a prophet, dreaming about my family’s priest
Last night a call that hurt so much that was so clear that was
Unreal. A letter of blessings he wrote by hand
Tools on a table, gifted, in the shape of a small casket
In this horror I besought my heart to have erred
A premonition, coming from so vivid a past emotion?
What are your dreams made of?

(HIM:)

Waking up with distant eyes
Body numbed in its dreamscape
Still, forced to extract, remember
An uninvited guest, a dying ember.
Dreams like false memories are hazy
Fading away hastily- vaguely
Still remember a few things namely
A hedgehog hissing and running around
something similar to a floating clover coin
I'm staring at a red colored behemothic door
There's a note scotch taped on that door
It gives me feelings of a signboard.

Blurry visions; I made the decision
to head for it but wait!
The hedgehog is still running around
It looks at me and starts screaming
Strangely the room is teeming
with darkness; Am I dreaming?
I think I am but I'm heaving
Believing whatever I'm seeing
Fleeting valor but I keep reeling
I'm getting closer to The Brobdingnagian
But where's that gnawer? I'm not seeing
him anymore; It was here before

I'm standing in front of the door.
Floor squeaks but I ignore
This blackness is stevedore
Bugbears came back for an encore
Hefty tidal bores inside my heart
Ready to wipe out everything I have
I look around, I see coal-black
No door knobs, no thoughts gob
I'm trapped in this **** room
My head throbs, I'm no Dom Cobb
Need to escape from this maze
I play a bit part in this Big Sleep
I'm not Bogart but a trash heap
Fear streaks, grey doubts peep
I know I'm dreaming but I still keep
seeing what I don't wanna see
I'm more dormant than The Mauna Kea
Trapped in this room like a bumblebee
My mind's worse than a potpourri

I was looking inside for a skeleton key
Then I opened my eyes suddenly
Why is it always like a movie without an apogee?
I looked around to find somebody
And I saw you in the mirror
Staring at me blatantly
So I'm asking you- Hey, tell me!

What are your dreams made of?
Waking up with distant eyes

Body numbed in its dreamscape
Still, forced to extract, I remember
the way she smiled; Once again I saw her
Last time I saw her was on 22nd of December
Now that she came once again
I am not afraid of the hurricane
that hit the coast; I was lost
She found me- Long story cut short.
Storm clouds all over the skies
Thunderstorms loud; Heavy lightning strikes
My life was completely disarrayed
But now she's by my side; I'm not scared
Her beautiful smile- all things it repaired

We were talking, Don't remember what
Like old times, a very long chat
I remember saying yes to a few things she said
She smiled, happiness spread
all over my body, no discomfort I felt
All worries eased, all fears calmed
She helped me like she used to help
I don't want this day to end
Just wanna stay here for the rest of my life
I looked around, I'm somewhere else now
Wow! It's beautiful; I'm looking at a painting now
Where is she? She's not with me
I don't see her anywhere near.
I looked around; This place is overcrowded.
Unknown faces; Sadness shrouded
All the memories we made clouded
my path; I don't see a thing
I always loved her
Then why does she leave me halfway everytime?
No matter how much time I spend dreaming
Happing ending will always be an unfulfilled dream
Of mine; I'm screaming
Then I opened my eyes suddenly
Why is it always like a movie without an apogee?
I looked around to find somebody
And I saw you in the mirror
Staring at me blatantly
So I'm asking you again- Hey, tell me!

What are your dreams made of?



(HER:)

“An apo-gee”
Distance away-from earth
An apogee is a dream
It’s an acme, a ******
We dream of having dreams. We lie awake, we dream
We fall asleep, we dream. We think of dreams, we dream
In this so irregular laden-meaning scene that stream
Is new matter at night. Leading us through the deepest
Crevices. We recall a hazy landscape...

Waking up with distant eyes
Body numbed in its dreamscape
Still, forced to extract, we remember
The nano seconds of our journey
Like photographs trapped in a camera
We lie down in bed, in our camera
Which is, my dear, the latin word for room
We are a canvas, we are the mechanism
Behind the machinery of dreams
Our brain sorts through the day, sending messages
Hermes in a tiny globulous sphere.

But you asked me to describe the machinery of that matter
In my dreams, I am sometimes seer, sometimes victim
Sometimes goddess. Females are seldom present
Men, men, men, it’s a men’s world
They’re not like horses, a mere form of their symbol
They’re made of skin and bones, their voices bewitching
In no fantasy realm. A concrete cell or a palace
A de Sade manor but… then… always in a room
I must be making use of some mise en abyme.

An abyss, an apogee
Away from earth at the
Bottom of the sea

This woman you speak of
She must be ghost yet queen
I have not seen nor heard
The flutter of her dress
Maybe in your carnal caress
She walked away
WIth a demeanor so noble
That left you longing for her kiss
This bliss of love! this… miss
I mean, dismiss.

(HIM:)

And I woke up listening to this
This soul kiss that I too much miss
Is a call to fall up, deep.
Close my eyes; Time to fall asleep
In a slit trench counting sheeps
Keeping up my defense
Against the fin-de-siecle pretence
Because everything in here pretends
to be real when they are really surreal
Some dreams are meant to make us
feel that way
They won't let our problems wake us
So they can take us away
From the Groundhog Day, we live every day

Waking up with distant eyes
Body numbed in its dreamscape
Still, forced to extract, remember
The taste of that hot meal I had
I can trace it back though I go from
one dream to another like a nomad

A world so beautiful yet everything seems offbeat
The places you visit, the people you meet
Things you did when you were in the hot seat
And things you didn't 'cause you got cold feet
Sometimes in bits & parts, you remember
The long run behind the paper chase
Hard to remember, easy to forget
Images in our head sometimes deface
the imagery of this imaginary coquette
Dreams- what role does she play in our life?
Look through the lorgnette you are holding
You'll know she's the one controlling you
When you search for yourself in her world
Always incomplete, leaving an invisible mark
Inside your mind, onerous to find
Makin' you blind during the night
When you open your eyes & try to rewind
That old broken disc inside your mind
Nothing you'll find cause there's nothing inside
‘Cause that dream just died.

Waking up with distant eyes
Body numbed in its dreamscape
Still, forced to extract, remember
I wish I don't remember this nightmare
A nightmare is a night's mare
Don't know whose footprints I'm seeing here
Inside I'm hollow, about to be swallowed
by sorrow as my faith in myself is so low
Not so clear still I gotta follow
the trail all by myself, I'm going solo
In my backpack, I carry blessing from Apollo
Make use of your snowshoes, hare!
Going somewhere but I'm not aware
That I'm in the open air, completely bare
Ears impaired but I hear a fanfare
All I see is darkness when I stare
at the road ahead to find out who's there
The Oracle is somewhere near
Waiting to rescue you from this despair
And make this matrix a magic square
You will hear what you wanna hear
If you keep moving forward, dear!

Untamed wilderness and an open sky
The Mighty Huntress is nearby
The Spirit of the Wolf will never die
Smell of fresh blood, ravens fly
Beautifying the color of the night sky.
Don't know why I was chosen as the prey
I don't know what's in for me
If I keep walking through this way.
Then long streams of illusions
Flew in from all directions
I cannot reverse the flow
It's like those silent rivers
Heading furiously towards the sea
Why do I see things that I see?
Gotta keep moving; Do you understand me?
'Cause time moves fast but very slow here
Sound of clock ticks I don't hear
Home's far away- a million light years
from the earth but still near
Suddenly a black hole appears
In front of me out of nowhere
I'm going down through this abyss
I'm not afraid 'cause I know where
I'm going; The Light is showing
me the bottom of the sea.
Almost there, I can see it clearly
I know this is where I have to be
So I closed my eyes slowly
As I reached The Apogee.
----
December through January 2018

I have worn a ring
Ever since I remember the first.

I woke upto a lit’le golden shine
On my li’lest finger.

I grew into a walkable,
And it got tighter.

Then they removed it
and gave me a diamond studded one on my 8th birthday.

I wore it on my index.

I grew into my teens
And it got tighter.

Then I got outta teens.
And it got tighter all the same.

Then a brown haired chap took pity on me
And proposed me.

With a ring.

A silver one.

I wore it on my ring finger.
Then it saw me for a long time.

And it got tighter.

And I separated direction from
The brown haired chap.

So, I dropped the ring

And whoosh it flew into the tracks
with the faintest bounce.

Then, I was a woman.

The ringless finger ached my periphery.
I thought of my diamond ring .
And I sold it next morning at the Jewellers.

I got a Platinum ring, after a lotta confused psychology to take the decision.
I felt a pauper signboard afar.

I wore it on my *******.

And, I smoked a cigarette
And I drank ***.
With the platinum shining on my *******.

Then I took pity on a black eyed fellow
And slept with him in a drunken state.

Morning I woke up with my bright sneer  dimming down.

My ring was gone.

The black eyed chap stole it.

My platinum ring.

I never wore a ring
Ever again.

I smoke the cigarette
And I drink the ***
With none a ring.

I will, Will to be buried without
Any of the Same.

Lord Quirk lived alone
in his castle
full of stuffed animals
and dried creatures
and humans as such too
And when Salesman New-deals called
"Just the very thing I need, "
said Lord Quirk
and added Salesman New-deals
to his Dried Goods Collection

And now Lord Quirk's descendant
has a signboard outside the castle
that says in characters old but not faded:
*"Won't you come in
to view our collection
and be part of the experience?"

'In perfect corpse posture, he lies
supine, motionless,
on the broad sidewalk
hardly a space to practice a yoga pose.

The waterfall of evening sun
foaming on his face
in no way disturbs,
it would seem when one looks
through the car window.
When, such equanimity
of the yogi on the sidewalk
begins to puzzle
the discreet signboard,
leaning against the wall besides
the motionless man,
lets the cat out of the bag:
"Our bar is now open"

"Department of space' a signboard shouts aloud
to my perplexity of that moment, it adds
before mind's eye I see the great enigma personified
and try to reason,"Oh! fathomless vastitude, mostly dark
what need you've this quaint building, that before you
would be a frightened Indian bride at her first night?"
Yes, the puny little "department" is not all space, it implies,
has a purpose limited than how it sounds: grandiose!
one doesn't even has any inkling,
what all these means, but a scribe, I have  a thing
with all these seeming inanities, that's the funny part.

Marveling it's esoteric architecture and mulling over
the concept of bringing the limitless to the minuscule,
just enough for a department of government to deal with,
I wait for bus, a personification of impatience, curse the circumstances,
fear reaching late for my appointment, with an eminent scientist.

Fuming against the haphazard, public transport system in this town,
while appreciating the red brick architecture, acts contrary
and make me a bundle of nerves.
Then she 'happens', that's the word
wasn't I looking for an escape from it all?
Freeze, i did, she, to be precise,  her figure was
nothing less than  a show stopper,one should admit.

Her dress, gladly left nothing to guess, and those dark eyes
from the other end of the bus stop eagerly sought me
as if I am assigned officially to pay all her pending bills!

From all round swarms of humming birds, eager admiring eyes
were chasing her, the moment  was an explosion of chrysanthemums ,
for me,  she and I , two spirited dancers on a stage,
(a scene fashioned in my mind, unfolded there ,it seemed)

Am i not to honor commitment as a responsible journalist?
an appointment was fixed with the nuclear physicist,  
with great difficulty it was done, on the way my car conked,
at the nick of the moment, i am here eagerness and anxiety
combined , fighting many demons at once, give me a break..

Yet here i am, finding time to fall in love, like yet another accident,
how fickle is my mind, I'd make any one submit
in an argument, but this red, ripened lips,are alluring
infest my thoughts, those dark eyes plead for love of course,
makes me feel like running to her, true love  may appear even here.

at that moments of dilemma I was another Buridan's ***
wants to do both but can't do one even;
and precisely then  my cell phone rings,
on the other end the nuclear scientist sounds apologetic,
my heart started to pound in my ears, does she want to cancel
the appointment for the day, postponed to another day?
I didn't listen her words, those eyes were scorching me alive.

Until we find ourselves under the same stars. We'll be searching over and over for the love we have left in the open sky. And this my love, is my unsent letter of an unfinished story.


And this is the beginning.


From scraps of broken pieces of ourselves, we once built trust.
From the shattered pieces of our hearts, again we danced without the music and the lights surrounding us.
From empty chairs and spaces, we shared the deepest scars unknown to the people around us.
From lonely words and empty promises, we laughed and smiled as we exchanged happy thoughts of goodbyes and suicides from past experiences.


And from nothingness, for a moment,
As we lie down together with the sky slowly covering the sun,
I watched you as you slowly undress,
I prepared for battle,
I knew it will happen,


Our souls collide
Our bodies unite
Our hearts ignite
And the night was filled with lust
And there was something
Yes! it was a different kind of love
No! It wasn’t love but it was pretty close


But until then…


Until we find ourselves in the same bed, underneath the same blankets. We’ll be searching over and over for the love we thought would never end. And this my love, is my unsent letter of an unfinished story.


I remember how you would cling onto my arms and you’d tell me:

“I’ll annoy you forever”

And then, we’d walk around town like it’s the last.

I remember how often we exchanged messages and how long we spent talking on the phone.
We talked about politics, we talked about god, we talked about how ****** up this life is for us.
We talked about anything under the sun.


I remember everything we did that made us who we are. I remember everything you said. From sweet talks to curse words. From I love you to go **** yourself. From I'm sorry to *******. From i miss you to why don’t you just die? And from ingat ka to putang ina.

For a second, I remember everything.

Wait.

You were like the sound of the pouring rain, it ease my mind, you remove my pain. You were like a freshly opened bottle of water or a Gatorade, you quenched my thirst every time I dive right in between your hips without wearing anything. You were like the PM1 at Mang Inasal, when I was starving to death, you feed my hunger with unlimited supply of love, but only for a matter of minutes until the guard places the signboard at door saying “sorry we're closed.”


“Sorry, we’re closed.”


At that moment, I saw the future was only a step away from the present.
And every time you said “I love you, babe” without sound.
I knew it from the heavens above,
Angels can be true, sometimes.
But then I knew it too,
Before we even began,
We were already at the end.
Just waiting to finish what we were about to get started.


From the promises we made, we lied to keep us safe.
From all the pain we felt, not even a single shot of morphine can make us numb.
And from all the hurt we had, we drank ourselves with beer and threw up all the **** like we don’t care.
And from something, once again, we were nothing.
Yes, we were nobody from the beginning.
And it happened as if it was expected to happen.
Before we even began,
We were already at the end.
Just waiting to finish what we haven’t started.


But until then..


Until we find ourselves under the same sun. Burning our skin trying to look tanned. Burying our toes into the sand like burying the past ‘cause no one would understand. Maybe somehow, somewhere, we won’t be searching anymore for the love we thought we deserve. But maybe, we could just accept the love that is being freely given without asking anything in return.


And this my love, is my unsent letter.


And I'm just a name you won't even remember. And you'll look for that distinct part of me but you won't find that from anyone else. I swear to god that I don't even believe in, you won’t find me in that lonely hearts club band playing your favorite songs of blues and jazz.


But you know exactly where to find me.
You just don’t want to.
And if you’d only search your heart.
You’d find me there, sleeping soundly.


But until then...


This is the end of our story.

A GIFT OF OLD AGE

If old age does a gift on me bestow
it would be just: silence
in my youngish and manhood years
I had exhausted every single sentence

erroneously borrowed from writers,
from professors, friends, the clergy,
leaders, politicians, loud-mouths,
fanatics and extremists ( I didn't know then)--an endless litany

and I discover much too late
truth is only a word thrown about
for the convenience of the speakers
the stronger their conviction, the louder they shout

as they have all the answers
' you don't know-- you out
there---it's about time you followed us
we'll rid you of every doubt'

how I detest slogans now
pontifications are the death of me
I am lost for words--silence I choose--
myself I blame for my past stupidity

soon,  too soon I'll be walking
to life's terminus--near, so near-
with a tiny signboard ' finis'
I'll be quiet and calm --without a single doubt or fear.

On my selling on a day in the blazing May
I was looking for a small place for a light bite
when I noticed through my heat dazed eyes
the signboard "Snack Bite".

Inside was the peaceful coolness of a suburb bylane
and I would have pretty soon dozed off
but for the strong smoke of spice, garlic and onion
that shut out every senses except hunger.

No menu card, sir, the waiter cut the silence,
on our menu at this hour is only fish fingers,
all else sold out.

No problem I said, I have been here for a light bite.
How many pieces come with a plate?

Ten, sir, superbly fried.

By ten minutes the steaming thing was before me
ten red crispy slices of fish fingers
and I immediately got into business
remembering what my ma used to say,
To a hungry mouth every food tastes fine
and so neat and fine the pieces looked
so artfully arranged on the plate like human fingers
I reflected on the pause having finished the fifth.

Human fingers? I froze in terror,
why didn't I notice
leftovers of crunched bones and nails
on my plate?

The only other man at the table, I heard
was ordering for another plate.

Suddenly the eastern cook grew quite excited,
he had spotted a shop with Chinese characters,
and chickens and ducks hanging behind a glass
to stimulate the hunger of those who might pass,
and a red and gold signboard with letters that said,
“Welcome -  enter this place and be fed”.
The eastern cook cried, “Why not go in,
it’s time for lunch, let’s eat something.”
“Yes,” said George, “it’s a good idea,
and safe - they don't make hamburgers here!”
This restaurant was a noisy place,
with tables crowded and not much space
for waiters to carry their trays well laden
with assorted dim-sums and bowls of ramen,
and the clatter of people busily eating
with friends with whom they had a meeting
and chopsticks clicking and glasses clinking,
and background music and singers singing.
They all sat down at a table for ten,
and ordered lunch for their party of men,
and just one woman who said that she
didn’t eat much but that she would be
happy to try any stir-fried dish
as she was partial to greens and to fish.

from The Adventures of George
©Blair Gowrie (Roderick Macdonald)

Lives have become a Game.
Everyone runs around for a moment of Fame.
The only desire, a glowing signboard with their Name.
Every one is playing, A child,old or someone Lame.
Once Wild were liked , Now new cool is Tame.

The only difference left is in what we play.
Waiting for their chance everyone Waylay.
Greed so high that they would even slay.
As if, hearts are made of clay.
Never content,whether Black & white or  Fifty shades of grey.

Life goes on , So does Games.
Some use Ladders to reach Their aim.
Others use snakes Without any shame.
Winner's rise up , world is theirs they claim.
Losers are left on side with nothing to reclaim.
stronger or weaker, Who is to Blame?

...want M&M's right now!


(sonnet #MMMMMMMCDXIX)


Out where a fragile silence listens, pale
Sweet minutes on their honour as suspense
Hangs like the rick'ty signboard of what hence
Shall cough ere giving voice, yes, in that frail
Calm rain does not quite tiptoe through t'avail,
The voiceless naught is keenly for intents
Half harking to what we don't hear from thence
In all our haste to be, I search for bail.
Old pools of water, silver-faced, don't stir,
And crickets gently fiddle; cars pass through,
Truck sans a care, weeds look too yellow to
Be ransomed, and the eaves drip.  Oh, what were
We thinking, really?  Death knocks 'gain in tour
Yet we feign not to notice.  Ah, what's new?

30Sep18a

why pluck
the jasmine
at my window...

what will I tell
the breeze,  
that go follow

its withering  
among idols
framed pictures

incense fumes  
severed plucked
presented wreath

homage to the gods,  
or will I sway the
bees, a telepathic

signboard painted
of dour directions,
none shall heed

even as petals
pucker away
toothless mouths

nibbling
nothingness...
but there!

within a clawed
green hold
a clasped

delicate
white inch of
a cold moon

jasmine,
at my
window...

You're a work of art,
You're a stream of moving liquid,
You're a light flickering in the dark,
You're a thunderstorm growling in the rain.

You're a painted canvas,
You're a gleaming neon signboard,
You're a puff of smoke filling her lungs,
You're a teardrop flooding her cheek on a cold night.

You're a verse from her poetry,
You're a definition to all her favorite lyrics,
You're a human version of her lucky sweater,
You're a permanent piece that lives in her.

You're a piece of night sky,
You're a reminder of everything she wanted,
You're a pillar of strength keeping her intact,
You're a perfect definition of all she wants and needs.

You're a gift of God,
You're a lump that fills her throat,
You're a smile that curves when she looks into your eyes,
You're a thread she's holding on to.

You,
You fill her with hope.
You,
You turn her dreams into reality.
You,
*You are love.

Waking up is always a burden to her
For she never wanted the life she is living now
They say that life has so many choices to offer
But she was left with only one choice
-to accept what was left to her

Dreaming is supposed to be free,
But now, it became a luxury
Only for those who can afford it
And those who can't, it's a fantasy
-illusion, delusional

Ridicule me, laugh at me, tease me, bully me
It will be your last chance
Call me simpleton, call me poor, call me ugly
It will be your last chance
You won't be able to do it again

She had finally decided to end it all
She was just waiting for a cue to start the fall
And that day, wandering around the city
A signboard caught her attention

Today's Advice: HANG IN THERE ;)
A faint smile then crosses her lips
It was the cue she was waiting for

Later that night
Literally, she followed the advice
The only witness is the moon
*She hangs herself in her room

APOCALYPSE

Civilisation will sleep
in time's graveyard
there's too much hatred
bad blood that would split
every artery and vein asunder
when the human heart
could feel no more
when reason has been
swept away by the soulless indifferent wind
and nights are but the ghosts
of anguish and perdition
when dreams are hellish nightmares
and sleep is but a trail
of torturous afflictions
when peace has bidden farewell
and hopes have sunk
into abysmal oblivion

what is left
and what is there to be lived for?

now in this grimmest hour
darker than the silent grave
rises only spectre's head
ugly, ominous , relentless and revengeful

this then is the apocalypse -
the world has lost its sight
splendour and beauty
and in every corner of earth
a signboard will be found
bearing the name : Dead

Driving......
felt adventures
stopped....... started
walking.....
found a new street
yet to be named
a new real estate
only two houses
went near
found a signboard
on Gates..
House1, " Beware of dog"
Yes, he is an introvert and pet lover
House2, "Welcome"
Yess, he is an extrovert and good host
but
an amazing
a fence between
the house has a wooden door
How come???

Life is like a road
To go through this
It has to pass
Whether it is heavy
Whether it is savvy
Whether it is fast
Whether it is lazy
To go through this
It has to pass.

Don't try stop anyone
But try to guide by a signboard
for being right to everyone
Do not pose hindrance
from first to last
Don't invite boils
for your own chest
Just have to endure
everyone on your shore
To go through this
It has to pass.

Long is the road
More will be barriers
More will be stations
Neither stop at good
Nor at deserted
More is neutrality
More will be naturality
Nothing produce shine
Patience is only mine
Never stay empty
This is the beauty
Welcome to all
This is your role
To go through this
It has to pass .

I feel so far from You,
Sinking in an ocean full of lust
Haven't got to see the path,
Am I that lost?
Have no idea where is the signboard to the right path.
Am I still with You?
Oh Lord,
Lend me a rope,
So I can get back to You.

No flowers are to be plucked
No nector to be ******
No fruits to be picked
No ***** to be kicked

No signboard adorned every where

But no hunger can be controlled any where
No urge to chat can be banned anywhere
No to work can be applied anywhere
No to move can not be controlled any where

The lurid shining of the monitor
Is overshadowed by a neon signboard
Overboard of my apartment, piercing
Through the ever mist; emitting rays of
Purple, red and blue; as if the meteor
From outer space had fallen near me;
And standing with cup of steaming coffee
Me something gives and other times Bereaves
Of piece or angst or misery, despair
It is depending of the mood, you know

Most of these nights, I do not even try to sleep. The bed lays empty and the night grows on me. My mind wanders if it is simply tired or sometimes I turn myself on if I am too scarred. When the nights sparkle, that is when I step out and search.
The nights sparkle these days under the city streets and one may even find some crime in the darkness. I look for some drugs in the back alley still even in adulthood. There is a homeless man covered in cardboard and goose feathers. I thank my good fortune because no strings attached means I have found what I am looking for.
Somehow, he always talks about a ride to paradise just for fun. He even laughs about Las Vegas as he fights his demons. Au contraire, I lay awake in my crumpled sheets satiated, his sign is etched in my memory. "Drugs'll **** you.-Voltaire"
It has been 3 years since I saw a criminal shuffle his feet across the alley on to the pedestrian crossing on Park Avenue. The breath of moaning women can be imbibed from a nearby brothel. Some may not even bat an eyelid when thinking to avoid this street and it's capillaries. Yet, this niggardly beggar keeps me company. This beggar keeps me company.
I buy him a whiskey to help him sleep as a breeze moves softly through the streets. A *** of his choice helps him keep his insides warm. I read the ending of "Sweeney Among The Nightingales" from my book as dozes like a docile child.
A warm summer approaches and we talk in cold tones about the politics of the country. But, this conversation is the most memorable.
"Bud, you must have capacity."
He says,"Is that why you keep me nearby your shoulder? To make fun of me?"
I say "I don't flatter anyone. I just get cranky when dawn comes."
He keeps silent and then resumes,"Smoke this."
I take a puff and days go by.
I find his spot and he is gone. His signboard lays on the sidewalk,"Drugs'll **** ya" it says.
Now I can sleep knowing that he is gone to a better place. Whenever the nights sparkle, I remind myself that the search continues unless I keep dreaming, hoping they will come true. That's when I knew I met the greatest artist who could actually bring change with a candid remark and turn the world berserk in a quick flick of a flame. Not with a bang, but, a whimper