i’m a joke

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I’m a joke
may be, a laugh.

Don’t trust me
not worth it
I come cheap
and easy
like wild scrubs
at every nook
and cranny.

Never taken home
but, used
and cast away
and laughed at
worst, ridiculed sometimes
I’m not worth it.

Sisyphus: slow – silent – violent – slow

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Slow
is his climb
up the hill
tethered to Gods
stone Gods
full of gaze and words.

Silent
is his manner
on the top
he sits alone
drenched in sweat and tear
until he is pushed down.
Gods laugh and merry
fingers pointed at
their falling dolly.

Violent
is his fall
down into creeks
great Sisyphus
turned into stone
by the light of morning
doomed to disappear
without meaning.

He knows not
why he does what he does
his destiny chained before
he was even born.

Again

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Again
the heart is broken
in thousands pieces, she says
and this time
there is no turning back
this is no hole, she sighs, to fill up
this is a big crack.

Again
across the window
I see things that glow
angels flying down to take me, she says
I’m going away, farther than you can reach
time and again, I tried to repair
nothing touches me now, no love, no beseech.

Again
I sweep the floor
dirt and tears come along
I know what to do
get a box and fix it up with some glue
you can’t fix it, don’t you see,
she growls, you can’t un-rape me.

Lost and never found

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All that I am or I pretend
sullen dreams of bleak end

Lost and never found
fallen leaves on the ground

Truth is a lie in disguise
solemn words of a skewed voice

Flowers sprawled by the riverbed
roots entangled into the mud

I seek love and love seeks a clown
run away before you’re drowned

I wish

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I wish I had the grit
to write poetry with splendid wit
words engulfed in words
silence entwined with surds
I wish I could name
the feeling that
hung on her every breath
fill in the hush
gaping from her droopy eyelids…

Ah but
she calls me from every direction
and I stray far too often.

I need poetry

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Alone
distraught, lost
I fumble for words,
shallow vowels, grubby surds.
I think I need poetry.

Little abstractions, some nausea,
a fling – if you say so,
a minor fight,
bedtime story…
or may be, just some sad poetry.

Tiny mutations, and
the world turns gray, plants flower anti-flowers,
people die, and wake up in dreams,
in one huge dream – Nolan’s dream,
and nobody utters no words
and burn in word-less purgatory.

Times change,
every hour, if you insist it’s slow,
anybody can be anybody, everybody!
And nobody’s got no tales
tall or short – whatever.

I am who I am –
word groper, literary loner,
un-trailed like snowman’s feet
in heat
asking for few words, and skill
to blaze them into poetry!

I Am

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I am Water.
when I languish I reflect,
when I let go I flow.
I am Sand.
I am everything you want me to be,
You need me to be.
A ship,
A lighthouse,
A castle,
A king,
A subject,
A hope,
A mirror,
A past,
A future…
A messenger,
A message.

When strained
I crumble into sand,
I get washed by the sea,

I traverse oceans and distances looking for another story,
Another tragedy,
Another drama,
Another stop,
Another comma.

I am Water, Air, Light.
Happiness, Peace, Solitude.
I am everything that reminds you of life,
All the goods,
All the bads.