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Posts Tagged ‘thoughts’

At the phone, I stare

waiting for signals

burning like fireflies,

embers and ashes

through the wire.

Fall into thoughts

less words.

 

The longest night

of killing the hours.

Pushing freewill.

Catching Morse codes-

to smoke or not

to smoke puff floats

in luminescent air.

 

You win again.

When the cable lines

gather raindrops

hanging low, dazed.

And confused as if

glimmering like tears

I, since the morning,

broken at a distance.

 

Like other nights

betting on a chance,

my silence is born.

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If you came here

to read my poems to rhyme,

you’ll be disappointed.

 

I do not offer a life

nor its manicured rhyme

but a disjointed rhythms

of words. Of thoughts

messed around misaligned

tensions of surviving

to live and exist.

 

I am not ashamed- to speak

the painful answers to questions

yet some are eager to clarify

the vagueness of the person-

and his art of illusion.  I do not

 

offer a solution to a malady

but I am willing to bare

the broken bones.

There is no guilt

 

for a man who stand

for what he is

and would offer no

facelift to his present

circumstance.

 

If you came here

to read my poems to rhyme,

you’ll be disappointed.

I will not offer a story

fit for a fairytale.

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We have to spend our whole life getting up

each morning and see the many suns

rising courageous from the horizon.

A simple life- who knows when to retire

at night time and hug long-time companions

called pillows and dreaming dreams.

 

There are episodes here, which send ripples

into our seemingly monotonous existence

everyday. And we have to wage battles

with boredom and her sisters- called mediocrity

and irrelevance. But not all were lost.

Somebody needs to learn how to befriend them.

 

Some may think that something was lacking,

but perhaps in the company of silence we find

orbs of thoughts in the usual grind of days

like the fowls of the air having simple cares.

Season after season. Day after day. Aged

but content to the simple things that matter.

 

The small country talks over the weather

and life in the farm begins with asking folks

how the young are doing these days at school.

The familiar warmth of seeing old friends at a gathering.

The joy of witnessing someone else’s milestones.

 

The farewells and well wishes when someone

is leaving our own little places to discover

the bigness of things. There goes a little prayer

and a hope that nothing is wrong when one decides

to stay and carry on doing their tasks each day.

 

We might spend our whole life thinking it’s good after all, 

though it has never been easy and there are rough times.

 

But it will never stop us believing that peace within

is the only dwelling place, our enduring shelter

when the day comes that we will never be able

to witness the sun and it has forgotten to rise.

 

In the darkness, we hope our soul in its own little spaces

can see the moon and stars light up the evening sky.

While the wind whispers- all is well, we’ll be calm as the sea.

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It is like me, filling the blank spaces with letters

and thoughts I- only I could understand you

and me. And why do we need to belong each other.

Balloons need to fill in with air and float. To be free.

To go to some places and leave monotony.

Car wheels imprinting its destiny on a lifetime

of wanderlust, embracing wide open spaces.

 

I try to skip around fear. Dodge people’s gazes

piercing through my self-made envelope of distrust.

Like a cloak I shielded myself away from someone’s

intrusion, uninvited to enter my world. I own. This room

of living the years full of questions of why do we need

to belong each other- keeping a stranger to my house.

 

And now I can see, that this page is getting crowded

with thoughts I- only I could understand you and me.

It is like a bottle of wine emptying its last night’s discontent.

It is like a pack of cigarettes I consumed of inhaling

and watching the wisps of smoke thin out of dreams.

Wind will carry the tides farther away to the horizon

but you know it will land on somebody else’s shore.

 

I need not to bring my own footprints.

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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.

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All room’s full tonight

for restless thoughts,

will you make another?

Something resides too long

without paying any rent

unwilling to go. I try

 

to push the windows

shut from the memory

of the altar. Forgiveness

is the name knocking

at my door, I would not

let it in, at a price.

 

You know, it’s hard

to clean up the mess

of those nightly visitors.

Thinking about comfort

and the high maintenance

of keeping life in order.

 

Welcome.

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She told me that my father was another man,

well I shrugged my shoulder and say “it’s okay”.

But she didn’t know that I am writing my pain away.

I came to a point of thinking about those fatherless

children who lost theirs in wars, in car crashes…

 

I am still lucky, and better-off, I got one

whom I can call Dad, but he would rather not.

He told me I am not his son, and he would not talk

nor teach me how to drive cars. I sat down on a corner

and started scribbling my pain away. Maybe I can draw…

 

And draw myself a car, a house, a tree, the blue sky,

and people smiling under the sun. Until I came to a point

of thinking that I could imagine a world, my happy world.

I could draw as many cars as I would like, and as many fathers

who could teach me how to drive and see how proud I am.

 

But playmates taunted me it is not all true. They laugh.

They scorn. They tell me how crazy I am to believe.

I just left, not minding, distant and alone. “It’s okay”.

I will just write my pain away.  I write good stories

about friends who sit beside you and listen to you.

 

They, who will never doubt how good the story was.

But some books I read say otherwise. There were lessons

which say do this and do that. I believed it was. That

I should never be a pauper begging for affection.

That I should be headstrong.  That I should  be honest.

 

And genuine. That good people will go to heaven. I did

believe in truth and desperately seeking it all my life.

But I was mocked and I stand bruised and wounded.

They say I am too much. They say I am brash.

They say I am too frank. They say I intrude.

 

They call me names. It’s  like big boys and big girls

saying that I should go away. They don’t need me.

And then again, I isolate and pick a pen, scribbling…

And I am writing my pain away. And this blank space

is sure and will not reject me like most people did.

 

No matter how fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters,

friends and even if the world will turn against me

and continue to restrain their hand in extending love.

I would teach myself loving without taking, understanding

that my heart is rich and I have much more to give.

 

I could belong like my ink being absorbed by the paper,

without condition. Just pure distill of my thoughts.

I could somehow say that I found a home to myself

after all.  With the pain I’ve been through,  I am

still here writing my pain away.  I am not alone.

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