I can mimic the way Lucas walks, how he laughs
I'm an observer
I can mimic how Ellouse talks, how she acts
I'm an observer
I can pretend to be cool, I can pretend to be popular
I'm an observer
I can pretend to be different, I can pretend to be happy
I'm an observer
I can pretend to be someone I'm not
I'm fake
I can be me
I can be weird
I can be a freak
I am real
This morning I saw
on Lexington Road
on the bank of a stream
by a well-manicured house
a wheelbarrow
overturned
rotting into the ground under a pile of brush.
We none of us can maintain our worlds
keep them in good repair
and proper order. All decays.
I am on Thoreau's railbed, I think.
And here is a graveyard
on and on.
Lives that came and went.
But produced, evidently, headstone-carvers
who survived them.
What makes life interesting?
Is it the things we say, or what people do?
Who dictates our lives?
Do we or is there another?
What does life hold for you?
What is the purpose of life?
To procreate?
To see things for the way they are?
To have relationships?
To see them crumble and fall?
Are there answers to these questions?
Is there an end to the list of them we create?
Can we not just forget it all?
Why can life not be a simple task?
Let me be enlightened, will you?
Or shall I ask you to kill me?
With shaky legs and trembling hands,
Cowed is how my Courage stands
Uneven breaths and bloodshot eyes,
My Composure succumbs to panic and cries
Betrayed, hurt and constantly lied to,
Love mumbles bitterly, "What am I to do?"
Those naïve enough to fall for lies and deceit,
With unveiled scorn dies my "Compassion" meet
Distrust was a nuisance,he put me in a foul mood
But he also protected me from those, he was sure, were upto no good
"Careful! Don't!", cautioned Fear, a skittish friend
Held my hand and kept me safe till the journey's end
Jealousy has been putting me down ever since I met 'er,
What that did, was drive me mad, and drive me to do better
Staggering along, weighing me down, is who else but Gloom
There is nothing but black,
Black is all I see around me,
Maybe I have gone blind?
But the black doesn't feel like darkness,
It almost feels of light,
Is that even possible?
The further in the black I go,
The further away from color I am,
Is that a speck of white I see?
Like a singular shining star on a moonless night,
Where'd all the others go?
Or is it that your the only star,
And there's never been any others to begin with?
Within the blackness the star shines,
Hope floods back to me,
Maybe I can see color again.
It was a chance encounter,
That didn't affect anything.
The two met one day,
The boy and girl.
But neither remembered the other,
For it had only lasted 45 seconds.
If neither one recalls the other,
Then it's as if it never really happened.
Not everything is about love or tragedy,
Or anything like that.
It was not fate or destiny,
The chance encounter.
The each of them little more than glanced,
At the other one.
Not knowing that the other exists,
And going on without memory of them.
He stands there so still,
Entering the meadow cautiously.
He watches for a move,
For a sound.
If he sees you
He'll start running.
In the mangrove forest,
Water gently flows in between the trees.
All you hear is birds chirping
And the gentle flow of the water.
The boat skims on the water,
The light flickers through the trees.
You scan the forest.
Only trees to be found.
But,
If you're lucky,
You will hear the water moving,
And see a stripe of orange,
And maybe it'll get closer,
And then you'll see
A tiger.
The cars swarm in the streets,
Racing to get home.
The people crowd the sidewalks.
Talking and honking fill the air.
Tonight won't be quiet.
The rain is peaceful,
And with all the plants around
I feel like I'm in a rainforest.
Sideways and out of reach
Never two thoughts meet
As the cold night sets in
Technology driven
Hard drives and soft wares
And bottles representing sadness
In a pyramid-shaped pile on the floor
Lonely, but we never say lonely
Family ties and subtle cries
From this house she’s driven
To arms that will submit
But will not cater
From the river basin
To the poles
There is no distance
Only footprints and negotiations
When you let yourself dance with anyone to keep from saying no
You wind up one day dancing all alone with the world thinking you have no rhythm
Which is why...
At some point
You have to stop worrying about being mindful
And just listen to the music