Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘crackle’

My thoughts are as directionless

as the moths seeking for warmth.

The fire within crackles

sending cinders to my realm.

My mantra of calm are as restless

as the grasshopper hopping

to some isolated and jotted

islands of images, dark-

that painterly abstraction.

Jarring and savage.

 

Some questions will burn tonight.

And answers will die on my bed.

 

I, like a squirming maggot

will never break it out.

My wings  would never ride

the wind like the butterfly.

The ants are climbing

this white walled kingdom.

The night owl squeals a secret.

While the lizard is ready

to pounce for vengeance.

 

That’s what is left of me.

An spectator to the scenes which

I could not connect in a thread.

Bare. Hope. Chance

snapping some strings

and shout eureka. I found it.

 

How shall I fill the blanks

that never beg for words?

Naked. Lying here like a piece

of shit and this suicidal poem.

Eccentricity finds no reason,

dangerous and hangs its limit.

That yielding point.

 

Sanity is a false shelter where

no one wants to be intruder

and break down the door.

Open wide discovering

another neck is lingering

asleep forever in dreams.

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

This man’s bohemian

and the weird symphonies-

the whining of fan blades;

the sharp screams of children

vibrating on the window pane;

and the crackling sound of

my bones tired of standing up,

shuffling back and forth

turning to see the bed

tempting me to lay down,

get lazy and do nothing.

 

And the sight of garbage can

nudging me about the litter

which keeps on piling up

and the sink flowing over

of soiled dishes. The hour

and the minute hand,

my body clock’s monotony

winding around the disc.

I wait and wait

when the light changes

from blue to augur yellow.

My head’s been heavy

and sleep won’t come.

 

It feels strange. Someone

speaks in a muffled voice

and you float being chased

around in dreams. Awake,

its bitter after-taste linger,

through the drab grey day.

The eerie whisper of shadows

on the white-washed wall

bouncing like myriad echoes

slower than the speed of sound.

And I can see vague visions-

on this mind’s glass screen

etching tattoos bleeds

the insomniac in me.

Read Full Post »