Posted in Current Affairs, Literature, Philosophy, Poetry, Relationships, Religion, Society, tagged accept, again, alive, allow, alone, anyone, atonement, before, book, breathe, carry, cavern, clock, cold, corner, darkness, days, death, deep, deep ocean, deserve, door, drown, end, endless, escape, expectation, face, fail, fearful, feel, flip, freedom, fulfillment, future, give, guess, guilt, hands, happiness, happy, hell, helpless, hide, home, honesty, hours, how, imaginary, last, later, liar, life, listen, live, mask, masquerade, mess, mind, monologue, nag, naked, necessity, nobody, open, out, overflow, page, pass, peace, people, person, poem, poetry, pretend, priceless, prison, process, push, ready, sad, shut, silence, sit, sleep, something, sorry, soul, stare, stay, survival, talk, thing, thrive, time, understanding, vastness, want, weight, wish, words, world, writhe, yourself on April 22, 2013|
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Why flipping a page from the book is necessary
to pass time and you know that the hands of the clock
won’t turn back the hours that have been.
And you sit there on a corner
endlessly stare in silence,
writhing in the cold naked
without a soul breathing-
you shut them out of your world.
Why talking within your mind in monologues nags you
with guilt as if your life is a mess and you are helpless
about the future and guessing how it will ever end.
And nobody knows that there is a deep cavern
that you can’t escape. While you live the days
carrying the weight of an imaginary prison-
you wish that death is the only freedom.
Why people come and go as soon as the door opens
and later you close them. Never wanting them to stay
nor understand you like you always did before.
You said they deserve to be happy with the ones
who can fulfill their happiness and you are sorry-
that you are not going to be the person
who can be able to give the expectation.
Why does sleep won’t come as peacefully
like words that overflowed within you but won’t be heard
and you think that anyone would not be ready
to listen to any of it. Because they will feel the
vastness of the deep ocean and they can get drown
and won’t survive alive. And even they- will feel
the same death that you have wished for yourself.
Why darkness is a fearful thing and yet you thrive in it
as if you allowed atonement for something or for someone
you have failed in the process. And honesty is priceless
but you keep on hiding that sad face within a mask
and wishing that this masquerade won’t last.
You go home alone again in the knowing
that you have not pretended to be accepted
for who you are. That is. Liars will go to hell.
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Monday Blues
Posted in Current Affairs, Literature, Memoirs, Philosophy, Poetry, Science, Social Commentary, Society, Sports/ Leisure, Technology, tagged alibi, away, better, blues, bolt, brain, broken, clothing, come, complain, counting, cup, days, down, dread, dusting, enough, escape, fill, fixing, fixtures, four, freedom, Friday, furnitures, gnaw, hard, hope, how, inner, ironing, job, keeping, lazy, life, mending, monday, more, most, need, nights, numb, order, pace, paperwork, pieces, plate, poem, poetry, pretending, procrastination, promises, regret, restless, routine, saturday, slam, sorting, speed, spent, start, Sunday, tension, things, thinking, time, uncontained, washing, week, weekend, when, wish, work on February 23, 2013| 5 Comments »
It is Sunday (I hope it’s Saturday)
still I dread about the things
that need sorting, or mending
or keeping the weekly life in order.
At the routine and the job not started.
Of promises I keep on procrastinating.
When I complain that time is not enough
but I spent most of it thinking how
will I ever escape the inner tensions
that keep gnawing my brain, restless
and un-contained, filled with regrets
I ought to pace with speed to numb me.
For the plates and cups that need washing.
For the pieces of clothing that need ironing.
For the broken fixtures that need fixing.
For the furnitures that need dusting.
And Monday will come. When you wish away
it is weekend when you get the alibi to be lazy
on Friday. Pretending you work hard but counting
four more days and you slam down the paperwork
bolting out for freedom. Still it is Sunday.
I hope it is Saturday, better nights on Friday.
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