Tag: frustration

A song for everyday

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I

I’m digging my nails deep into my flesh
For a treasure that was never buried
Neither a time capsule for lost memories
(Memories, which reappear as shadows every morning
Like a cobweb over my eyes, gone in the next blink
As I look up at the sun to confirm it’s a new day after all)

I keep moulding my form
Sandpapering furiously the veneer of my vessel
A glossed up eggshell a second away from breaking apart
And I keep hitting the soil of my skin
For the fresh splash
From my fountain of worth

All the roots I had planted in me
Are loosening into veins
They’re dropping out in the strands of hair I shed
I am rethinking all the words I have said
Or forgot to say
Scavenging for imprints inside my heart before it turns black
Tomorrow when I look up at the sun
All of this will be gone
Perhaps.

II

The sun shines down through the skin of air
I’m not the same vessel of thoughts
The senses in me are swirling up
I’ve learnt to feel,
An acquired taste it is;
I am so happily full of myself
That you, a cynic,
You, my past or my future,
Cannot touch my hair
I am here, I’m here, see!
My heart is softly beating and my eyes are bright
Today I am feathery brightness and glow
Today I’m here
And tomorrow I will be too.

The day passes you by

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Cat – walking on ledge – Venice – Italy





The day passes you by
Like a cat strolling on a wall
The bricks inside crumble with time
As you watch her with
The corner of your eye
 
You look at your palms
The creases and folds and fine lines
Roadmaps to your dreams
You think you could cup the world inside them
If only you could begin
 
A cloud wipes the sun from the room
You lie flat on the bed
Eyes shot up to the limit of the sky
But the roof is thatched
With the straws of dread
 
You could have seen the sky
You could have been the stars
Yet the day will pass you by
Because you didn’t start.



		
	
	


				
	






	
	

		
disconnected
	


	
					

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The see-saw is askew
And I want to ask you
Why are you still crying for balance?

Distractions are blinding
Terrors normalised in
A world which is bursting with absence.

It’s a lopsided space
This isn’t an equal race
Neutrality is just your pretense.

Your eyes will grow squinted
Your opinions tainted
And this is how the world really ends.

How can you look at a carpet
And ignore the threads?
Ah, but it is just a rape.

	


				
	






	
	

		
I hate that I love myself
	


	
					

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I hate that I love myself
Even when I can’t.
At me the looking glass gapes
With a shadow as lifeless
As the idol’s eyes in the temple
Looking straight beyond me
When I once used to pray





I hate that I look at the glass
Harder and harder
Trying to imagine myself into
An aesthetic self
A wise woman
A smiling soul
Bubbling with joy
With a contagious smile





I hate that I make myself believe
I need not be anyone else
My reflection is flawed but never me
Only the glass could be purer
Oh I couldn’t be surer





But I hate that I don’t love myself
As soon as my coerced conception
Breaks into pieces
The illusion shattering into shards of glass
Piercing me everywhere
And I’m back again





Stranded in the dark alley
Sitting with my knees bent
Drenching in the never ending rain.

	


				
	






	
	

		
Under construction
	


	
					

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The sand bag of my body
Leaks through tears on the sides
When I cry at night
Stone chips rest on my chest
They collect one by one
Clink, clink, clink
Seconds tick inside aloud





My sack is a shroud
That I sewed for myself
Threads made out of
Agonising hate
I’m cemented to the floor,
I need some help
I want to get back up.





Should I wait for the bulldozer to arrive
On some time even gloomier than this?
I’m perhaps already laughing at myself
On the other side of the pain
In moments of bliss and disbelief.
I don’t need help, please.

	


				
	






	
	

		
Tunnel Vision
	


	
					

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My heart is sinking faster than my breath
Red hot metal scraps tinkling like rain
Voices loom outside the tunnel
I've been inside so long,
Do I want to go out?

I could ask for help and shout
But my voice chokes with rage
I want a carnage
Every part of myself torn apart
Sticking to the walls like abstract art
In a room without a door.

Explosions inside my core
Fashion themselves into frail groans
Dissipating into sullen silences
Too misty to grasp too well
Once they leak outside
Into the circle of light.

There's no fight left in me
I become the tunnel
I am my shell
Scrape my remains
Into a putrid bowl of poetry.
You'll finally find me.


	


				
	






	
	

		
Revaluation
	


	
					

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Photo by Valentin Salja on Unsplash





If my memory was mapped with
Blood clots and muted screams
Would I be a patient, or a soldier?
If I were too tired 
To believe in dreams of victory
Should I march any further?

Angry tears facing the wall
I fall, I fall, I fall
Thudding my way down every night;
Rock bottoms and nondescript floors
Are so dangerously alike.

A part of me sings upbeat karaoke
Pauses for breath and asks me if I'm okay
(Forgive me the pun)
And I sing along, it's great
What's the use of wallowing in sadness?

If keeping away sorrow was enough
I'd still have a chance.
But you can't just dance the way
All your life. Aim! Aim!
Be on top of your game!
(I could rhyme this line with 'shame'
If I had it in me. Sorry.)

I am sorry, but perhaps I'm not.
The guilt for the absence of guilt I've got
Eats me inside when I imagine my life-
A cumbersome, crooked centipede of Time
Always ending up smashed into a fleshy patch
A huge footstep crashing down, down, down.

Or maybe I'll just be around
For pleasant winters and sultry summers
Gliding with peppy music
Perhaps I won't be sick.
I think I'll fight it.

	


				
	






	
	

		
Mad
	


	
					

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My blood boils as my country heats up
You and I watch helplessly
Hopelessly
As men with empty shells for brains
Fight a war where they die, and the women get raped.
I’m paralysed
By the sheer number of heavy headlines,
Each a bullet to the heart of our beloved land.
Men die like flies
Women protest like they have nothing left to lose
And they still say, “But what about when-“
You and I,
We scream, shout, yell and cry
But end up laughing with a taste of bitterness inside our mouths.
We break into peals of laughter-
Our eyes turn into glass balls
Lips as hard as ice
Hearts as cold as the tip of a gun barrel.
Mad, aren’t we?
Aren’t we all?