"termites" poems
They rest all over
whilst I was rooted to the ground,
the water acting like superglue
as my limbs stretched out.
Towards the clumps of land
rods of steal and wood weaved,
to connect and *****
that which we call humanity.
But there were abuse on the rods
formed by hands who'd calloused hearts,
poison coursing through their veins,
but not a single thought was given
for they were innocent in their brain.
Said limbs and rods spiraled out,
as nothing was left to chance,
intertwining everyone's destiny
in majestic flare and grace, grand
like a ballerina's dance.
But the poison was too corrosive,
the termites were too much,
as everything eroded, imploded,
crumbled and buried under
mounds of earth.
But today is different,
a new beginning, a new life.
As if the gods have willed
something better to arrive.
Indeed they came: Ports
forged from purity anew,
where fresh legs are delivered
and old legs whisked away.
For no matter how dark it
was, is, will be,
even during the night,
there always is and will be
a pip of light.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 7:46 AM UTC
termites crawl in my stomach; you
are my disarray, o soft and golden -
take the curves of my feet, the
freckle on my lip, and
hang me on your wall, you
compel my speechlessness.
i'll keep guessing, guessing
and unguessing.
i am up all night over this.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC
Jealousy used to be a girl with puppy eyes and braided hair.
She lurks around the dark side of the room
Waiting for someone to notice but they kept on denying her existence.
Jealous? No.
That’s all she could hear.
‘Til she grew bigger. She now has longer nails, no... claws.
Her messy curls showed up after taking off her braids.
Longer limbs and shorter temper. She screams loud.
By the back of her head, she wanted to be noticed.
She crawled around the whole room. Asking for attention.
And I noticed her. So is the name she whispers in my ear.
The sound is not loud now, but deafening.
It didn’t have sharp edges, but it cut me through.
That, did not made me bleed and cry. It did not make me weak, or so I thought.
But made me furious. She’s slowly reaching out for my hand. I had doubts but, I reached back to her. She stood, emotionless, while I unconsciously threw a plate across the room. I cried. But not in agony. In anger. For sure. I can feel flames rushing through my veins like a waterfall.
Jealousy is like a monster under the empty bed for so long that it learned how to dream.
Jealousy is like termites, slowly chewing off the walls where I used to carve our names with a small blade, I used to use to cut myself.
Jealousy is a box of “What If’s”
A box full of surprises and one of them... called, “assumptions”
Assumptions you thought were visions of the negative things.
Negative things you’re scared to happen. Or even to think about.
Jealousy thought your fear how to grow bigger.
They’re friends now.
And every walk she makes, Jealousy brought along Fear.
They try to pay you visits in your room, that you seem to stay a lot in now. This is the room where I used to watch cartoons and once fell from the rope you tied on the ceiling. It wasn’t that strong. The rope, the ceiling, and me.
It used to be just short visits, now they got themselves their own sofa bed lying next to your queen-sized mattress.
But I wanted them to leave.
As I see him packing his bags and opening the bathroom door to get his toothbrush.
I wanted them to leave.
But Jealousy invited a guest.
Jealousy invited Pride.
He left//
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 10:52 AM UTC
If memories take time
Then I'm giving them away,
'Cause all I want's the closeness
Of thoughts from yesterday
If you turn your back to a tree
It falls, and you don't see
Is it different when you return to reality?
It remains that the tree is wood
The cores and rings and fibers still good
But I'm sure that doesn't matter
Because it changed the way it stood
I do my best to be unchanging
To coax you when you fell.
For friendship,I'd even let
You chop me down, as well
But you've sunken into shallow soils
Called these termites all your friends
And though it's your integrity rotting,
My memories have spoiled.
So think about that once again
When I've grown tired, and tough
Because height can give you limelight
But it's the roots that give you love
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 5:09 PM UTC
Law,
All ye termites hacking ants are you without sin?
Twisting the law to your greed thus dethroning justice
Thou that dis-virgins the law to suit your selfish taste,
Did not equity say that none is above the law?
Money-thirsty vultures seeking positions to occupy.
Law hackers depriving justice and equity of her rights
Equity and justice now lives in shame of her virginity,
Almighty termite, do not your deeds speak evil of your sins?
I weep blood for justice and equity whose daughters you *****
Is there none whose conscience still breathe or lives?
Power-driven termites making uncountable promises
Yet accomplishing none but your calculated interests.
Equity,
All ye leaders that preach peace, are you not corrupt minded?
En-slaving accounts meant for public welfare
Yet you claim to have the peoples interest in mind,
Did not the law command you to let equity and justice smile?
Parasitic predators hi-jacking the country's economy
Filthy termites proclaiming injustice upon powerless ants,
Justice hackers, do not your conscience judge your judgments?
I wish that you allow justice and equity have her way.
Law benders at whose feet equity and justice bow
Rippers of the law, at your hands justice is twisted,
Is your nature as humans so inhumane?
Little wonder the earth lives in fear of your tyranny.
Justice,
All ye slanders of the law, why not sheath your swords of corruption?
Your unchecked power has broken the wings of justice
Thereby making equity a widow without a husband,
Remember your oaths to serve with justice and equity;
Did you deceive the ants that voted you in to serve them?
Chameleons occupying seats of filtered ambitions
Woe betide your conscience for refusing to judge you,
Are you not guilty of molesting the law?
I mourn for the shameful death of equity and justice.
You that crafts the law to fit your suit of corruption
Remember a day comes when justice will laugh again,
And you being powerful cannot escape the law of Karma.
Karma,
Murderers of the law, will you also bribe karma?
I doubt if you can buy the law of karma with money.
Thou whose gluttony corrupts justice and equity,
Don't you feel guilty that you disvirgined the law?
Equity and justice now roams about in nakedness,
You that preach the law, are you true to yourself?
Heartless spiders cob-webbing the law to entangle poor ants
Did not equity bid you come to justice with clean hands?
Yet with filthy garments you condemn innocent ants;
Mind you that someday the law will rise again.
All ye scavengers of justice and hackers of the law,
Do you think you can **** the law of Karma?
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 10:22 AM UTC
i can't breathe
you're touching me under the stars with hands that venture too far while the moon smiles at us showing every row of pointy perfect teeth
you're touching me and
i can't breathe
you're holding me in a way too tight hold and way too strong arms wrapped around a place i'm supposed to call home with termites eating away underneath
you're holding me and
i can't breathe
you're kissing me with lips of nicotine and breath like fire embers and words of forever and tongue that's sloppy and serene
you're kissing me and
i can't breathe
you're following me in between buildings that shouldn't be this close together and its another dead end another dead end another dead end, why does the sidewalk get to leave?
you're following me and
i can't breathe
you're whispering to me because this is what lovers do, you scream this is what lovers do but i don't want to love you and my lungs ache for you to let me be
you're whispering to me and
i can't breathe
you're laying next to me snoring very loudly so that the neighbors can't hear the sheets suffocate me and i'm dying i'm crying i'm dying
you're laying next to me and
i can't breathe
you’re saying you love me and you’re pulling me so tightly into that lovely body built from forever's and never’s and i’m screaming in your perfect little ears over and over because didn’t you hear me?
i said i can’t breathe
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 10:33 AM UTC
It was warm in Emilio’s backyard,
The site of their game of explorer.
Emilio cleared the overgrowth;
Michael complained.
He was bent over, trying
To have a conversation with the blood lilies,
But he couldn’t hear them
Above the soft sliding hiss sent up by
The passing snake herd.
(Past the Huano palms, Emilio could see them,
Moving like a fleshy woven mattress)
Both boys noticed
The glut of termites
Crawling over their sneakers.
Michael complained more.
How could he explore
Amid so many noisy distractions?
This was when Emilio went inside
To get his father’s gun.
Michael watched as he fired
Three shots
Into the clouds threading the sky.
Both explorers presumed it was the shots
That punctured the clouds and caused the snow;
In the surprising silence of snowfall,
The two boys trotted across the yard,
Catching flakes in their butterfly nets.
Feb 2, 2010
Feb 2, 2010 at 8:33 PM UTC
It is paranoia which destroys a man
Like oil destroys the sea
It is anxiety which destroys a man
Like termites destroy a tree
It is jealousy which destroys a man
Like disaster destroys a street
It is hatred which destroys a man
Like cold destroys the heat
It is worry which destroys a man
Like pollution destroys the air
It is anger which destroys a man
Like bleach destroys the hair
It is lust which destroys a man
Like darkness destroys the light
It is heartbreak which destroys a man
Like sunlight destroys the night
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 4:47 AM UTC
Drawing things I cannot see,
Listening,
Keenly,
Too the strange things,
Coming from,
the albino dressed pavement smoothed,
Bedroom walls,
Braille textures,
slipping like termites,
or a strange smell,
dancing from the dusty old lady haired vent,
on the ceiling,
Braille raindrops,
escaping from your,
soul window sill,
fog,
gets in the room,
and we light cigarettes,
purple scented totem poled candles,
with out near future,
melting,
and dripping on the wooden counter-top,
which we dip our fingers into,
sticky like petroleum,
sticky like the sap from a forest broken snapped,
tree limb,
which we tasted,
which we ran danced hollered and orgasmed,
like the melting candle,
like the sapped,
broken kansas public tree limb,
and i,
took off your,
orange dress that you stole,
though only a few dollars,
i called bonnie,
you called me paradise,
though we danced gleefully,
in the slums snout snarling broken home windows,
pot-holes,untied shoes,untied fathers,lovers planning paradise,
inside the blue 80's oldsmobile,
with the stereo turned low,
low like the quiet hummingbird song,
of making love,
in the cold night,
under trees,
that was old,
and had probably seen many lovers,
come and go,
as its Fall leaves grew wings,
as its,
winters balding scalp,
scattered away,
like a field of dandelions,
or the birds,
that flew from nests,
only to fly south,
or like wise boxcar boxcar dharma bums,
sat on telephone wires,
at the intersection,
where two lovers planned paradise,
in the back-seat,
of a blue Oldsmobile,
and the night,
holy night,
and i,
**** mind wonderer without wings,
or sad singer leather boots harmonica whiskey drinker,
and Her,
white as stars,
dancing in a blind choreographed orchestra,
in the sky,
far,
far,
far,
even the highway,
has no exits,
to see this performance,
So i sit on a rock,
smoking a cigarette,
with a Fools smile,
as I,
watch beauty,
from the Key-hole,
that is,
Solitude.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 8:09 PM UTC
a darkness dances
into the crevices
where the squirrels once raised their young
across the gangly branches;
where the birds once perched and sung
introducing the morning sky.
the leaves, which once sheltered the ants
from rain which poured upon their work.
the lively and diverse ecosystem breaks
as poison seeps into it,
winding and choking long abandoned homes.
the tree aches and sways as it succumbs to the crippling pain
and collapses.
termites begin upon their paths
and worms and potato bugs harvest the soil
although it was once so strong,
it still hosts life to hundreds, even thousands.
though through death and destruction,
begins life anew, and a new type of beauty emerges.
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 11:53 PM UTC
'CONDEMNED' screams the offensive yellow tape
wrapped around my door like an angry snake
I'm a crumbling abandoned city apartment
and the letters of your name can be found carved into my scattered bricks.
The memories we shared were sweet,
but you've moved on now. To a newer part of town,
all gaudy gold and glowing neon and soulless silver.
Even though you're hypnotized by its fraudulent shine
I wonder whether you remember
the love and mortar that once held us together.
For these walls still stand tall
through countless stormy nights, scorching days and freezing evenings.
But I don't know how much longer I can last.
Because my very foundations were made with your smile in mind,
and they are sinking into the mire now that we are forced to stand alone.
But what need to you have for such antiquated architecture?
I have been replaced. Your new home is far prettier.
More efficient.
Even still, I hang on by crossbeams and rotting wooden studs
and hope that you will find your way back
to the home I forged for you here in my arms.
I rot and moulder in solitude
the memories that echo in my hallowed halls
the only comforts that keep me from collapse.
Far too proud to admit, though I'm sure
you see the bitterness of your absence
eating away at me like termites.
The lord only knows how I'd like to feel your feet
upon my wooden floors again,
but who am I to even dare to ask?
For now I am just a house
no longer a home
vacant
and alone
patiently waiting to be made whole again.
- r.j. & m.f.
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 1:17 AM UTC
I'll be on the front lines
Fighting fireflies on a Golf Course
With a butterfly net
Collecting ghosts in mason jar
to plant back on the cemetery
The crows are making nests
in the skull of your family
They accidentally put
the wrong name on yours
And in Latin!
It's ok though, because you're
(were) Are? a nihilist
The river Nile is the
best stream of consciousness
Known to man and of
Course that's where you drowned
your metaphorical thoughts
While you hung yourself above
a treadmill trying to pretend
you wanted to be a better
man
But you only ran away
The Stonehenge is the front gate
to your home
It's made from
billboards and
Pictures of static
When you're dead you
Live in White Noise
You're turning my lights
on and off
as I'm trying to sleep
haunting me in
my over easy eggs
making the yolk run
in words "Miss me?"
And of course I do
But you are as good a my imaginary friend
When I'm walking in the
park with all the scarecrows
you make the dandelions
float, no amount of
wishes is bringing you back
I know boards of wood are
easier to you than the termites
eating the tumor in my brain
from the insanity you're causing me
So instead I paper mache my
room with love letters from you
that got lost in the mail
because you stole them for me
A banksy bankrupt in original thought
I'm building a tiny forest
of matches
If I can't sleep I'm joining you
So you pack your bags, hobo
style but with
Picnic baskets and dead leaves
Seancing yourself
With the crystal ***** of my eyes
I lost you in some newspaper ad
about a Home for sale
Does it come with a family?
How is that legal?
But I lost you because I bought the wrong copy and couldn't find that one blurry word that was you saying
Good morning
I lost you at sea
And in my dreams
And to your own hands
And to my own memory
I'm dancing with wolves
Called Alzheimer's
because I'll die
with a disease of age
Instead of house burning, building leaping
Front Page
Then we'll go live in abandoned
amusement parks with creaky
Ferris wheels turning
Like you in your grave
And me with the Cycle of Life
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 7:34 PM UTC
the words that once flowed off my tongue have all been dried,
leaving nothing but a cracked and barren wasteland,
desert termites squeeze themselves into places they’re not wanted,
the phantom figure of what was once alive cries for water in a broken voice that will never be heard,
even by the most intent of listeners.
the fruits of my labor are met with mud on my clothes and spit in my face.
at the night’s fall i bask in the eternal cold,
the air i abuse is extracted from my lungs with sleight of hand
and an unnervingly charming smile,
a cherry tree beckons me forward as it waves in the midnight wind,
the crickets fall silent and i am momentarily assuaged,
bathed in the yellow light of the moon.
time ebbs and time flows, bringing with her the judge, jury, and executioner.
like Saint Bartholomew, i am strewn up to be flayed,
from my pocket falls a needle and thread, a note from someone long ago left behind,
and a rotting apple core.
they belong to the Earth now,
and soon so will my precariously perched form,
my very essence pooling around the tree and staining the leaves pink.
at my decaying touch, maggots spawn.
as if trained, they surround my body,
a cocoon in which i metamorphosize into who i’ve always been.
in my chest, the vultures will nest,
feeling safer than i ever could have,
nothing left of the girl who once wove tales of grandeur and painted paradises in her mind,
but a torn canvas and an empty shell waiting for its puppeteer.
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 11:10 PM UTC
The heat of the tequila sunrise
On the seashore of Cape Creus
Melts flaccid pocket watches,
Soft as overripe cheese;
The dreamscape's permanence dissolves
Before distant amber cliffs;
On sweet, rotting flesh termites sup;
A time fly lands.
The monstrous fleshy mutation
Across the seascape draped -
Deformed, distorted,
Disfigured with decay;
Centipede shades lash alien flesh
And sluggish tongue oozes
From the snout of the surreal
Self-spectre of Salvador's craft;
Persistence of Memory.
Jun 24, 2010
Jun 24, 2010 at 8:32 AM UTC
A cider and a minder
Passing time as a reminder
Pink glow and songs flow
A waxy time erodes the mow
Renegades and perspiration responds
Swimming in winded seas of Jordan
Heated in space, evicted in their pace
Libido fails as the liquor dilutes in taste
Catch an esse as the moonlight smite
Hold another to fake a romantic right
Filter to the cards of ace as the one winks
Emotive intruders farm in fields of pastures
Imbued with alcoholic waterfalls
Molehills of termites condense lose soil
A lack of connection a taunt that apes
Future anthems triumph in hungered strums
Amused by the music erupting volcanoes
A morrow blows as the candle slows
To tow the tall grassed disused straw
A spring to summer that promises sun rays
A resolve to moderation to preserve modesty
A kiss stored forever peeping the awing stars
To guard a heart and hatch uniformity
Trembles justly forgotten in termed premises
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 2:42 PM UTC
Handsome shades of murk crackle the joints in your bony fingers while she drapes purple towels over a broken window no one has bothered to sort. It's a quiet and moldy sort of night, with even a starry sky lying shamelessly over tranquil lakes under closed willows. There are no secrets though between her eyes and yours, who find joy in absently breaking the bleached porcelain cups your in laws bought, on this blood stained floor. With all this abstracted silence dying to burn your dog hearing thoughts, she finally manages a whisper.
'Dare not let the light in and wake you from this memory.
It might be putrid but it's the best you'll ever have'
Leaning back, the chair you sit on sobs wordlessly about the strain of living and the piles of laundry no one has bothered to fold. The moon overlooks your surroundings, watching pine trees in the distance exhale their last breath and drop weights of hope omitted from the stars for this Earth. Perhaps ignorance is bliss or someone cut off her ears and yours because no one turned to notice while those same pasty fingers count back the pages ripped out of old journals, all meant for her. With all the trains missed and reminders dismissed, you realize who's caught in a fog of sighs.
She paints your portrait in distress because she'll never finish what once was. Termites are biting the wooden legs of this chair and rotting is the flesh on your arms. Reflecting back on your life is worth nothing more than a refrigerator note she scribbled on for last weeks groceries and now she sleeps in a place far more silent than in a coffin deep under roots where some proud oak trees once stood. Being found in the middle of a lost labyrinth with her hand no longer warm, you finally manage a sentence.
'Who cares about the dying trees, I'm running out of paper.
She might be dead but well alive in a writer's promise'
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 6:20 AM UTC
only dead boys hold insects like they're something
special
only a dead boy would let a mantis in his heart and
preying was always a better descriptor
because hymns burned in my throat and
i scratched a cross into my palm but i was never lucky enough to scar
but
oh, dead boy
bug lover
enduring a thousand lashes to save the soul of a beetle -
i'll help you peel off all your scabs to make sure they scar
thick tissue skin memory sometimes you think scars are the closest you'll get
to a wedding ring
you're a suicide king i think a kingdom of hearts was never the safest place for you i
don't think you understand the way your subjects' hearts are strung because
entomology entomos everything you love is cut to bits
and on the fourteenth of february you told me
the only purpose of a flower
was to hold
a spider
inside
and i guess that was why you painted all your walls with roses i
hope your garden smells as sweet
covered in your misfortunes
only a dead boy would let
a praying mantis so close
to his neck
oh, you freak. disgusting.
i ate the last one that let me this close.
you told me {if i die
leave my body
in the forest
by
an anthill}
maybe you don't realize we were doomed from the start or maybe you're just naïve but
honey you're a dead boy and
corpses don't fall in love.
[you're so genuine it hurts and i think
i could teach you how to be a fake -
nobody likes an honest man
i could teach you how to hate the world but you said
{the only one
i hate here
is me}]
freakish child.
all you see in every rorschach is mantes and
decapitations and
wedding rings you are an aberration,
suicide king entomologist your throne room
was full of termites.
with hallowed cheeks and hollowed churches,
i will assure that you scar
dead boy, if you die
i will put maggots
in your chest
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 2:44 PM UTC
Desires aren't ripened tangerines
They do not fall off the tree when they are ready
They do not fertilize the roots below
They do not shrug off the sense of un-pickedness,
just like that,
Not like tangerines do.
Desires unspent are starving termites.
They bite into living bark
And burrow into the breathing deep
Past rings and rings of precious age.
They corrupt the tender core
And, soon, no new leaves grow
And no more fruit drops.
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 4:58 PM UTC
There's horns and heartache in every direction a ***** smile in the sirens that echo through the alleys bricked or stuccod into self martyrd silence at a world that is only a glossy poster of its former self an hour glass up everybodys nose some torn pantyhose hope I'm smiling in my 4x4 a beam watching the people turnstyle through despair and ecstasy I'm painted white but I'm full of termites and I love this mirage world despite all the anyways and brick roads that lead to cliffs and cliffs that lead to lovers and lovers that leave for sunrise and railroad ties me unholy headed in every direction that leads to nowhere everywhere but like I said I love this mirage
Oct 3, 2010
Oct 3, 2010 at 6:37 PM UTC
Submit insight
And
Implore.
Succor of cavity
Although termites
Void wholes.
To grievances.
We remember--
We Remember...
Insignificancy
Everlasting.
Forget-all
From-those-
With-frightful--
Diligence.
Rocks are cliffs
And faces.
Heads of people...
Were known
As motif-tulip
Conclaves.
Breakaway, tidal
Ant-bridges...
Because sheer
Necktie parties-
Are translucent.
--Please, ignorance
Slaughtered spaces.
Instinct grew petty.
Taxing arteries
To split...
Knowledge.
If only wisdom
Used-to exist.
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 6:39 PM UTC
What guile is this, that the Inventor of Change is cruel,
He invests not his ears on the sweat of the poor and helpless;
Like a tyrant, he feeds sweet tears to ants for a gruel,
Is he not guilty of false hope of Change to the hopeless?
How is it that he's different from his own self
In that he considers not the interest of the termites,
And being voted in by ants, is now a Mighty elf;
Is he not deceptive in his honest dealings with termites?
We must change the CHANGE, for cunning is his agenda,
Henceforth, must we not be enslaved in his guileful net
In that he entrapped the poor ants to enrich his blender,
Out of his duplicity, must we by all means be fret.
Folly it was, that he promised us as Change
To covet beacons of wealth, from the hopeless ants,
Is he not guilty of prophesying false prophesies of Change?
We must Change the CHANGE for the safety of the helpless ants.
He pledged Change, but chained the CHANGE, and left us hopeless,
Is he not guilty of duplicity, and sabotage of the nation's economy?
None of his agenda was in the interest of the poor and helpless;
We must Change the CHANGE, for CHANGE threatens the economy.
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 7:47 PM UTC
Termites, those invisible, destroyers
eating away, eating away
bit by bit, I can hear
slow and steady
gnawing away
so determined to hurt me
destroy the bit I have, only
this time its not wood
its flesh and soul
they eat away
bent on finishing me
my whole being.
Have you seen these termites:
that eat the inner being?
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 11:22 PM UTC
Walking with weak words
Prying through the tall walls
Celebrating what not worth celebrating
Right on the throne, up on our mountain.
A coin taken by the stem worth,
But when it involves the sky, it is not.
Fingers pointing to the corners
While the main stream flows stronger.
Food for the queens none for the soldiers
Maybe this is a termites' world.
Again, the leaves, the fresh ones will drop
And the chapter will continue to sour on.
Expectations when their is a change of crown
A sweet mistake it would be called at last
For the same sweat will refuse to unmasked
Hm! tiger goes, lion follows, we remain in the clouds.
The same old shame continues to travel in cycles
Winds of the Heavenly, we still wish for a miracle!
We wish for only oily foreheads to get our banners
But still I wonder if any is ***** to rebirth our corners.
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 3:08 PM UTC
The 'gyre' hints arrival-
Twenty centuries making room
For a new epoch,
I’m a modern bird now,
I may sound haphazard, troublesome, and brooding
unimportant topic for hours,
It's up to you to lend ear or not;
I was a winged rooster confined to land only,
Now I’ve become a 'hawk', with knowledge of flight
perhaps power too,
Seeing the world from far above
Envisioned me a seer sight;
I see the world functioning; the lowliest on top,
the best in daze, and mediocre relishing mediocrity,
One or two good men wasting
life in poetry which none cares.
Oblivious armed men guard the periphery;
White termites gnaw the door at the Centre.
At this height, all seem different,
I can’t relate with my earlier self;
My knowledge seems nothing but
a frail sound in a vacuum.
When I became 'conscious'-
My dreams stopped being dreams—
My thoughts were invaded daily—
Life evolved in million years—
'God is dead', the universe all naked.
We’re the supreme, the Satan both;
Busy in triumphing Desires.
Converging all— blazed my beliefs.
We’ve progressed too much, portends
trembling of the earth
And smoke eclipsing the sun.
'Death I breathe',
War looms again,
Life is traded in forfeited currency.
I see the world functioning,
I know one or two tricks too to cheat,
To assault, to **** to loot.
I can foresee the end—
Its good to die starving then
Fly in the proximity of land.
May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 5:52 PM UTC
There's a peculiar feeling about emptiness.
Like hundreds of misshapen rocks
Have all been carelessly dumped
Into the cavity which should hold
My red, pulsing heart.
It's not obnoxious
Or tangible,
But it lurks somewhere right beyond
I love you
And I miss you
And I don't care.
Like termites slowly devouring
An old pewter coffee table
Left on the corner in front of a tall
Decaying townhouse.
The legs slowly deteriorate,
Revealing their soft fleshy wooden insides.
There's no warning sign for this kind of
Isolation.
No tell tale symptoms
Or home made remedies
Of honey and camomile.
Flashing neon lights
Flicker and fade into the
Heavy night.
And symmetrical posters
Don't illuminate the pathway to loneliness like they should.
Instead,
It just creeps up on you when you're least expecting it,
Between casual conversations
And vulnerable moments of passion.
You can't stop it,
Or push it into a corner
The way you can with guilt
And premeditated promises.
It's too disfigured to be shut away in a symmetrical closet
Or empty dining room.
It's the absence of understanding,
The congested feeling in your lungs
And heart
And stomach,
That comes when you suddenly realize
No one understands.
It's unpredictable in that way,
The sudden realization,
There's no telling when it will spring upon an unexpecting moment,
And devour the innocence of longing.
But when it happens,
When your whole world feels frozen,
Stagnant and stuck between the cracks of reality,
And covered with a thin veil of dust
And failure,
When your throat is dry and chalky,
Full of almost there sentences
That dance in the chaos of your desperation,
You'll know.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 11:57 AM UTC