The distance
We find to distance ourselves from ourselves
This frightened clawing existence
Superimposed with grey tubelit light
With language unable to explain and
Gesture unable to regurgitate
What stops these weeping, bloody words?
Hands that reach out in
Empty, hollow clichés of distress.
Explain my mornings
My nights
My middles
Explain then this script of distressed drivel
Even pain is no longer unique
Spell check my life
Fix the syntax
An extra “the” an “and” perhaps ?
Bracketed and boxed
Explain then to me these equations.
Life’s never-ending conversation with itself
Follow itself so tediously
We find ourselves meandering in melodrama
And drowning in our own defeats.
Between the games of love and lust
And the hands of hate
I want to find another word
Another language
I want a new skin.
Chocolate coloured?
All you retail messiahs
D’you think you could spare some curly hair.
New shoes and maybe a stronger sharper chin.
Yes I do believe salvation lies in a new chin.
7 comments:
I like. I like very much.
And, more importantly, I can relate.
The "poem" on my blog, however, is a horse of a different colour.
More of a donkey that a horse, actually.
why thank you Yohan. glad that you can relate to the my desires for sharper chins
I usually hide my chin underneath a little beard. Builds character, doncheknow.
bloody madrasi..........hhhhhmmm..... beard hmmmm........maybe i should get one of those.
Madrasi? I'll have you know most Dravidians eschew beards.
I eschew moustaches, mainly because they get in the way while eating. (Get it? Get it?)
I have only today read these exchanges between the 2 and am quite sensing somethin cooking
Post a Comment