Remainders

The silence rings too much when you're gone
I can only sit
Waiting for the phone
Staring through the space between my thighs
At the table mess
I can't get them to touch
Just like us

I'm sorry if I held too tightly
Or too loosely
I can promise not to hold at all
Or forever
On to the smell of burning flesh

Let me drip dry until my skin turns to ash
I can water the carpet
With everything I could have given you

Had you not tossed it in the corner for me to find
Always the unwanted plaything
Like rags
Like my veins when the sun is done with me
Like the weight of the wisps of dust that dance in the light
Like the stirring curtains by the window
Like leaves in the wind
Scuttling over to

Rustle against the tall window nearby
While only the seconds go by audibly inside
Noticeably unnoticed
Like me

Streetlights

Half past six
Chases the moon;
Watches the last of the streetlights
Fade out behind the misty embers,
Dimming if only for being outshone.

Half past six
Chases watery swathes
In blue-grey rolls
Back over a warming skyline.

Whence came the first wisps of smoke
That filled my cup
And a hundred others
For the sake of these streetlights?

A Still Day In November

By the window you sat

Gazing blank as paper

That shrivels in the drops

Like a thought for later

Tense crystals beat at

And adhere to the glass

But this rain, like anything

Will pass

I fixate for a moment

What's there?

Hiding amid rain and wisps

Of coffee-scented air

Of tastes and smells

Of every childhood meal

Of the tasteless present

That is nothing but real

The food's here

And you're finally back

From the cold, driving rain

Which always somewhat lacks

In the deep meaning that

Everyone gleans from staring

At a window on a rainy day

Without their bearings

Why would you go there?

It's cold and wet outside

Your heart will catch it

Even if your body hides

I pick up my knife and fork

And as you pick yours too

In the ice water on the table

Is a refraction of you

All ready to begin

On this great scent and taste

And the wrong sights and sounds

It's quite a waste

You smile, and I smile back

And then my attention wanes

With my half-smile still on, unaware

To the rain

Morning

I walk briskly
At the sign of light,
As if it were the pistol of death
of the previous night.

I watch in wonder
as the neighbor's dog noses
its way through the grass of mynas,
and flapping coal wings
startle the stagnant air
with small beaded eyes fixated
on the unknown species
the dog's leash leads to.

Appointments rope in endless crowds
to places of money, sweat and tears.
And the fears of the morning rush
seems alleviated now
that people are practising courtesy (or some form of it)
in lines as if to offer prayers
to the accelerating box of people,
while watches flash in the light
reaffirming when their time is up.

I look around to see and experience
What a zombie apocalypse might be;
What with all these deadpan faces
and ironed shirt with no creases.
They march escalators of souls
trampled below
in the tragic foodchain
we all succumb to.

A hand weaves through
And untangles the horrid knotted earphones
Draping it on successfully--
On oneself like a huge bowtie
On a casket meant to go
In search for another life.

Three minutes of silence,
or more so,
as we mind our own business.
The rituals we do
that dismisses dawns
and its symbolic nature:
in our loss, it mourns.

Mimesis

She perches on the table front
Hands tousling her chin
He stands with the structure between
Him and the wide sleepy tin

Hearts and dimming eyes
Flickering at the promise of art
Sense and selective penning
To tug at mind and heart

Last Warning

Don't leave me here
Where are you going
Away
No, don't

Sitting on an island on fire
No one wants this mind for hire
They sat him down and told him
"You don't know how to be a liar"

And it's true, life is just a game
It's all the choices that we make
That, direct where your life goes, it's
Too late for regrets for fuck's sake

I don't know if anything I'm saying is getting to you
But you mean too much to me for me to just let you go, too
And I know I don't hold that place in your life and I don't know if I ever will
So tell me something before I lay down and pop the pill, because

I'm going to run out of time
Snapping at all my lifelines
So give me a last warning, last warning
Before the morning

Blind in the black
With nothing to cover my back
I am running into walls like there isn't any right track

The water flows, gushes, pours
I only see the open door
But the fire keeps on pounding me down into the floor

The walls of this place are closing in too fast
And I don't know if my support structures are going to last

But I know one thing
The resounding sound of this something
Is going to outlast me, I'm dying, you see, because

I'm going to run out of time
Snapping at all my lifelines
So give me a last warning, last warning
Before the morning I might not see

This is a drastic change in
Expectations
And the one who can't adapt
Dies worse than physically

No, don't go
Away
Where are you going
Don't leave me here

The plastic smile

Razors steal a stolen silence.

Coronation: Of a new divide;

Acting for its master

With due reprise.

Its engines oiled in cold remorse;

Impresses the truth of its course.

Decorum prescribed by superficiality;

Distorts the beat taunting within.

As lips purse with uncertainty,

Yet replaced with outstretched arms

Of a fallen dignity;

 A carved out wane is completed,

As notion of self is as bent

As a drawn face is out for rent.  

   

Unearthed truths

Blots of dotted grey transit--
To that of a ruby radiance,
Pervading through secrets rancid;
The night safekeeping, the day's brilliance.

Emphatic rays now draw clarity--
An earthly wonder to all of nature,
Camouflaged as a process so common;
In actuality, a concept much foreign.

The lifelong tunnel of truth,
Is not hampered,
By blinded fights.
For the iridescent dawn--
Reserves a ray,
For every open eye.

Teachings

Sharp hot streaks furrow
In clouds of dust that burrow,
Records of the pacing age--
Scribbles and turnings of the page;
Passing clouds of lessons that end
Upon ends, fast paced minds scurry again.

In torrents of homework and such,
Depicted by foreseen flash floods,
Bombarded by much overload--
Of information overlooked
As the teachings of nature.

As Infinite Unions

Illusions,

Constructed reality--

Motion dynamic, circling harmony;
Ideals translating to concrete actions;
Cryptic facades and literal surfaces.
Faltering discernibility;
Hunting truth.
Between lines blurring-
Imagination boundless, creating appearances;
Reality distorted through truths unearthed.
Seamlessly complement;
Areas converging.
- infinity -
Converging areas,
Complement seamlessly.
Unearthed truths through distorted reality.
Appearances creating boundless imagination-
Blurring lines between.
Truth-hunting,
Discernibility faltering;
Surfaces literal, and facades cryptic.
Actions concrete to translating ideals,
Harmony circling dynamic motion.
Reality constructed
Illusions.

Downy

A descending elegy, elegant
In its fall, as the notes, lines and ovals,
Form a bumpy downward slope. A green fan

Twirls with a drunken gait, currents pressing
Against the veins, pulling and pushing the
Leaf spinning and weaving downwards. A red

Flash in a straight path, making contact with
More than a little sound, leaving behind
Air, where it used to reside. Porcelain

Pristine and unblemished, makes a dash for
The core of our living, giving up its
Earthly form for something a little more

Scattered, a piercing sound heralding its
Transformation. Whirling edges in the
Air, controlling the wind and a light breeze,

Unhinge, and for a moment, they seem to
Defy belief, spinning as if they were
Suspended in space, in time, before the

Laws of nature grip fast, and it becomes
A falling whirlwind. When the ball flies high
And yet higher and still higher, it falls.

What I see

What I see
In the eyes of beings
Equally capable of sight
Understanding their plight

What I see
Is delight
In eyes that shine
When a new born baby
Takes his first cry

What I see
Is defiance
In fiery eyes
When a boy boldly
Attempts truancy


What I see
Is depression
In bleak dreary eyes
When a person breaks
Mindlessly ranting at every take

What I see
Is anger
Through narrowed eyes
When a person boils
Venting with a raised voice


I do not see
The fear of a new mother
Nor do I see the want for attention,
Understanding and consolation.

What we see
Is what we want to believe
And what we are
Is what we believe

I do (not)

If the vows
That were meant to string
Two loving hearts
Together
Was a ritual
No more than a political venture
Would you abide by
That contract agreement?

If you had read the fine print
About eroding feelings
And coarse fingerprints
Eventually milling
What-has-been
Into nothing
Would you stay together
In hope for progress(regress)?

If you had known
That love stories
Did not always end with a
Happily ever after
Would you stake your heart
For an investment
Possibly of no return?

Alas, even if we had known
As we do now
We never could find it
In every fibre of our being
Practicality, and instead dream
Possibilities of an idealistic realm--
Even if we had known
We could never forgo.

Fires of Brigid

She was cold;
I might say frigid.
There seemed to be no outward signs
To suggest this.
Her eyes were dutifully turned away
Concentrating on the task at hand.
Icy,
She was,
With a coldness that dug deep,
Freezing through a warm exterior.

Half a face comely,
And half a face not.

Deceptive.
Behind a veil of warmth,
She was cold;
I might say frigid.

Aureus Ventus

A trace of something golden
Lingers
As a silver wind throws up
It's shimmering particles
Yellow wisps of sand

Pinpricks of light
With no numbers to their
Names
Fall, diamond dust
Blue stars against the dark

Settles, an angelic carpet
Pure, clean, white, unblemished
Impossible
White shadows rolling
Out a malevolent clarity

Burgeoning red, seeping
Into
Every crack, every fibre
Of being, and spilling forth
Of joy

Adolescence

All is futile
All shall burn
Hail the meaningless
And shun those who are the result
Of what we are now.

Darkness devours all
Authority enslaves all
The mindless; conscious or not
The misunderstood; willing or not.


Ehhh.
Fucking white rabbits.

Greeting Ghosts

When the stars align
And magpies traverse a velvet sky
A bridge of gods design
Manifests in invisible dye

A lonely night rolls on
In the din of desperation
Quietly, silence mourns
With golden moonlight striations

Holding a vitriolic gaze
At beauty and horror intangible
To all senses a haze
So underwhelmingly incredible

Movement, a shudder, a fit
A slightly wobbly leaning
As the insubstantial sits
To convey some clandestine meaning

Sifting through dimensions
Never truly existing anywhere
Avoiding all mention
Of that transient, unsettling air

Cleanly slicing through
All we have known stored
False promises to he who
Would kill for a lord

Repetitions of loaded words
Lose their weight in the sea
Of white cats and black birds
From which we flee reality

The mist absorbs it all
All alike within burn
And dissipates as time stalls
Never to return

Inebriated and drifting
Through looming tenebrous kin
Kept alive by an uplifting
Lie, inferiority to pin

Upon every tree in the woods
A lumbering travesty
Loaded with nonexistent good
To openly greet tragedy

It floats across the grass
And swirls in the mire
Comes down on the blindingly fast
And sets all afire

Amidst a blaze uncertain
With no dark through which to discern
Embodying a blinding curtain
To curb sanity's return

Falling from the stars
Curious and burning bright
Incarcerated behind a mind's bars
By decree of a fake light

An imaginary haze's host
Stumbles with whited sight
Fruitlessly greeting ghosts
Under the soft starlight

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This blog seriously needs a revival.