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.
Flood
Posted in Current Affairs, Literature, Nature, Poetry, Politics, Social Commentary, Society, tagged above, afloat, ants, away, bailout, bell, blab, body, breach, bring, capture, cards, carry, chew, clock, constant, corporate, days, deadlines, deep, detergents, doomsday, down, downsizing, drain, dreams, drown, enjoy, excitement, fade, figure, file, fill, filth, flood, flotsam, forgetting, glide, gossip, habit, hidden, hope, hours, how, hunger, keep, labor become, laundry, letter, levee, limbo, line, machine, minutes, miss, morning, mountain, myself, necessity, news, next, note, numbness, oblivion, out, overflow, overtime, paperwork, people, pick, pile, poem, poetry, press, punch, race, ranks, rat, resonance, rim, rinse, ritual, rolling, rush, sandbag, silence, smell, soak, soap, sound, spell, stains, straw, stream, suffering, tap, termination, thank, thin, think, tick, time, train, treatment, tub, wait, wash, water, way, weekend, whine, worry, yesterday on June 7, 2013| 4 Comments »
The hours tick like sound of punch cards
in this corporate machine treating
people like ants filed into ranks.
Mountain of paperwork piled up
into sandbags. Bring it on, breach
my levee and let me drown forgetting.
Labor becomes a habit. Of numbness
and enjoying the suffering.
Like the sound of water from the tap
during a morning ritual in oblivion-
silence resonates like a hidden bell.
I wait until it fills the tub overflowing
down the rim and the clock raced
to the minutes rushing for the train.
Like the way the thinning soap glides
my body and the necessity to wash
away yesterday’s worry-rat smell-
that doomsday spell. A thank you note
and the termination letter. The downsizing
and the news keep rolling off the press.
People pick up some gossips to chew
and I am excited to blab my hunger.
Like the constant whining of the weekend
laundry, hoping detergents rinse the stains
and filth of missed deadlines. And overtime.
And I got the time to soak away thinking
about the next line to a poem, capturing it
before it goes down the drain. In limbo.
And I hope to keep afloat above it
like a flotsam of dreams in a stream
carried away in the fading of days.
Figuring it out how to bailout myself
like a straw in deep water.
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