There is only so much sky I see
And I thought I owned it all
Just a pint of fresh air for me
The windows; this once, a little far
How beautiful they look..
Not right on my face
How very tolerable they look
Of annoyance, not a trace…
Almost as if on a mountain top,
No drama, no story;
Just insomnia in all its glory.
No fear, no faith;
Just mediocrity, every, weary breath.
Lightening isn’t followed by thunder,
No pain, no slipping under.
Flowers no more bloom and shine.
No pouring rain, not a single shrine.
What boils down as a 2 AM poetry?
A moonlight washed smile, the brightest of its kind.
Some laughter sprinkled notes, of ecstatic mind.
It’s hope and happiness,
Regardless of anything.
It’s living and loving,
oblivious to everything.
An earworm, only you wouldn’t remember the lyrics
Neither can you recall the tune? Nor a single note?
Ugh! Those words…
Lying under the dust of your subconscious mind.
Or maybe behind the faint curtains of your memory.
Disappointing, haunting even…
Piling anger that scares…
Secrets never to be shared.
What do they say?
A Hundred lies to cover up one.
I am afraid you have counted one too many days…
Made up one too many stories…
Covered up a little too much.
And now you can’t remember…
Oh! The face of reality.
Helplessness, sadness rather…
Of never being able to sing your true fable
Sadness of the world never seeing it.
And now you can’t remember!
You will forever be looking of those words…
The poem of a Friday.
The one that has still got you counting your days…
Until death does his part.
The other day I drew a blank looking at what probably was the most colourful sky;
And today I find poetry at the end of a telephone ring;
It’s only human…
It is only a little about what is around you,
and more about what’s within.
Art… It’s only human.
Long time no see. The wake nights have dried up all the sea…
But yes, the summer nights have been cozy.
With the scent of crushed May flowers and the sound of weeping willows;
It’s cozy enough with just that…
And the skeletons under my pillow.
With my hair against my sweaty, clammy face;
I have been running too long, too far – and this never ending chase.
Come put me to rest?
Also, don’t forget to bring along the dark of the moon.
Hoping to see you soon.