Category: Poems

You think I live in the picture on the wall

You think I send you signs

The god and the dead have fine lines

I heard you 

When you spoke to me

I came

For every word you speak

Wiping the tears off your cheek

…Ofcourse, you couldn’t see

I heard you laugh so hard

You started crying

And then I saw you

As the tears changed cold

Starting to feel guilty 

As if you were lying

When you told yourself you miss me

As if forgetting for a second

Meant you didn’t care

What else could I do, it’s never really fair

I wiped your tears 

…For you, I was never there

It’s hard for me

Like it’s hard for you

You dont need to know

But I want you to

When your tears start to dry

In the wind the voice is mine

…I never want to see 

you cry

I try to hide, I try I try

I can’t stop myself

I can’t see you cry 

Where God exists,
As does his son
The Devil
The winged man
The learned rebel

Where God exists,
Did he not create this existence
Where our skin being torn ajar
Forces us to pray
That he heals our scars?

Where God does not exist
Nor could the rebel,
Nor could the pain, and nor could the sin
To which the Creator, in himself, 
Has made himself akin
But the blind guides
By which he leads
Falling, in blind;
Now don’t we concede?

You embody devils you cannot find,

So you have flaws to blame

For the recklessness you so strongly desire

You embody your lies, and the anguish you kind

It’s made you all you looked up to

And so, the history pages, stamped with your seal

Bloodied and signed.

Makes you the master, the covert emoter

The God.

The manipulator.

Happy Birthday, Iscariot

Betray yourself, that’s all the coward knows to do.

You’ve burned the wheels of this chariot

You can’t fight fire, and then choose to marry it.

Write your history, but your back doesn’t carry it

Happy Birthday, my dear Iscariot.

Join me, Mama,

I say.

I will, my darling, till then why don’t you pick out some flowers for me?

I run and pick up a lily from the ground

The petals are fraying, the white is washed down

But holding steady, they don’t fall.

They sway to the sound,

Sway to my call.

And so, I run back, after her again

Watching as the strands of her hair fly quietly.

Come on Mama,

I say.

My voice echoes for a moment,

And, impatient,

I pull at the flower

The petals split and circle there, above her

She looks up- and for a while, she stares

I will, my darling, just wait for me there.

When the wind tides this hollow sea,
And the sky sets loose its torrents free,
You’ll Know, Luna;
It’s time to hide now.
Find your comfort in the shadows of these clouds,
But don’t ever fear to be found.

Luna, this world of ours sways and rocks,
Its secrets barred with keyless locks -
Untethered and unpardoned,
Never unburdened.
This world of ours is hard to break,
Yet splinters still with each mistake.

But you’ve already caught this glance.
You somehow always seize your chance,
Don’t you, Luna?
Even when they try to shut you out?

You’ll Know, Luna
Even the rain aches for drought.

This world of ours, it haunts you deep.
Your cries are drowned by soundless sleep.
Who are you to them after all?
Don’t wait for them, Luna, to break your fall.

As salt tears shatter this cornerstone,
The first rain breaks down its skylit home.
This has only proved to be

A figment of some parody—
We are brave, but we aren’t strong.
Luna, your light hid our lies far too long.
And so, the only right we know is the same blatant, daring wrong.

But You’ll Know, Luna
Sometimes hiding will suffice.
One day you’ll watch, as their sins pay their price.

And so, if someone asks,
Hold the same advice.
Tell them, Luna, of your sacrifice,
And make sure he hears the words you say

Let them echo in his golden grey-
“Turn away, child, whilst you still can.
Live, without question,
In this delusion of man.”

All I see

Is the same balding men

The same crooked grins

The same graying beards

The same evil sins.

Telling the woman

They couldn’t sell themselves to buy

That her nose is aloof

Or her legs should be slender

Her face is pleasant

But her voice isn’t tender.

It’s the same white-haired men

With the same hoarse voice

With the same ego lessons

On how the man has the choice.

It’s the same fifty-year-old man

Acting as though he’s fifteen

Teaching fifteen-year-old boys

That the women are keen

They come running, so don’t be afraid.

But then, how come you sleep night after night

Without your own

willing maid?

When tall buildings come crashing down,

red brick – red soil –

Can you tell them apart?

When roads split as lightning cracks,

black tar – black mantle –

The colour it anyway lacks.

When the sky collapses,

the Earth turns blue –

Was the Earth not blue before?

Somewhere in the grey and black,
Knowing you're not coming back
All that I'm left to have
Is this empty space
And when something becomes all you have
It becomes something you embrace

And so I long desperately,
Long for it to stay
While my time 
And all the rest of me,
Slowly still efface.



And in my head,
I'm whole again.
I talk to you,
Consoled again.
All my thoughts,
All my mind-
We have conversations all the time.


 
Still, I write the words to you
The words I think you already knew
In another one of my letters.

Letters to you,
Letters from me,
Unanswered yesterday,
Today will be the same.

I once was seen in each turn of their smile,

I once was felt at each dinner night.

When together they huddled,

And for a while,

Forgot all about the broken chandelier light.

But the flicker soon grew relentless,

It left this home dark and contentless.

It left the floors cracked and cementless.

Standing on a weak foundation;

They crumbled like I, the picture on the wall,

And as it happens, in these piteous crimes,

They faltered, they forgot.

Forgot all about the good times.

Now I hang loose, one end tilted.

Nobody bothered fixing me,

And the painted flowers have wilted.

The only thing that governs this plane,

Is the broken chandelier and its flickering pain.