time sets

This is the time of day
when the light
of inspiration
is replaced by a bulb
of annotations
listing tomorrow’s duties
when petty pinpricks of frustrations
turn to burning indignation
for giving in to expectations
only to be disappointed again

It is the time for rage
to take the shape
of something whittled
smooth and sharp
and be stuck into
our unsuspecting hearts
just to feel them skip a beat
so we’ll recall
why we keep
holding on


pop pop boom

retinal overlay
makes the day glow
orange grove brown
down to the alley
dead end rally
of tin can rattles
for every penny matters
of the heart
stuck with darts
parted from hands
dissolving prayers
rubbed into the layers
of skin thin with
interest in stories
not built by bricking
quick thinking
to a stop
now drop and
hear the call
up on the wall
written for all
to fall down
go underground
duck those bullets
flying about
all the lying
grinding thought
to a halt
one is lost
another blinded
by the signs
all around us
glowing neon
sounding reason
gypsy genes
ankles bared
afros, knees braced
receding hair glare
details detached
fragmented despair
while I digress
in this mess
I must confess
I scan the lines
to find a plot
all I see is what is not

the good li(f)e

Every time I look at you
I’m reminded of how I pay
for having taken the lifeline you threw me
when I was sinking in the mud
How you pulled me onto the shore
gasping for any kindness
How you saw in me the drive to survive and conjure temples from rubbish
How you tethered me with comforts
and loaded me with purpose
long enough so I wouldn’t perceive
that the shore was on an island
I’d never find the strength nor will enough to leave

But most of all I am reminded
how I long for the mud again


Where wonder reigned
habit remains
and memory’s stained
with melodic refrains
dissolved to static
attractions now
only distractions
unworthy of abstraction
and words just
stochastic noise

Still, I stand poised
against a slow demise
holding out for a surprise

forgive me

forgive me
sometimes despite
all the history
the statistics
the infinitesimally
small probability
the stark reality
and all my efforts to supress it
hope flashes irrationally
painfully mockingly
long enough
to make a fool of me

daily post prompt : deny

serenity in waiting

I wait one more day
on this side
of the reply
formed within minutes
of the asking
I keep it to myself
relishing the question
less only than
the possibility of you
waiting for a reaction
all the while
thinking of me

emotional stopper

Emoticon be gone
you mediator of clichés
You’re a prefabricated
inept lazy stand-in
a flat facsimile of
standardised expression
of passive aggression
An effortless
proof of response
negating the worth
of all you follow

how I know the heart is a muscle


As I grow older,
every heartache feels greater
and takes longer
to get over.

View original post

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: