Month: January 2024

Transparent



I painted a white line
Upon a blank canvas
And the people they praised me no more
They could not see;
That the painting was an echo
Of my silence that wasn’t seen before

The Silver In My Song

The broken flowers they fell at my feet
Gold and silver, ebony and peat
And I knew not where this road may lead
Will I find in the end what I need
And I need...
A silence in the shape of the sun
A bit of violence with the face of a nun
And someone who won't turn and run
When I face down the barrel of a gun
But hear now...
I don't have a penny to pay as your price
I spend my nights cold and filled up on rice
And I know my heart is my own greatest vice 
Always afraid that my love won't suffice
You can see...
Out there those houses of princes and kings
Whilst I can only shelter you neath my own wings
And I have no diamonds to tie our rings
Just the hollow of my chest to rest your sufferings
So beware...
Of my sweet words that may seduce and sway
They only ache so to take you away
And keep you happy come what it may
We will be children till our hair turn grey
But I know...
This poem seems just a practice in rhymes
And does not cover the cost of past crimes
But I shall spend every penny and all of my dimes
For our today and the end of our times
So...
Never forgive if you want but don't forget
The magic of those moments we met
And I wonder if it's my heart you now so hate
But wasn't our love written by the hands of the fate?
Thus I say…
The broken flowers they fell at my feet
Gold and silver, ebony and peat
And I knew not where this road may lead
Will I find in the end what I need
And I need…
You

The Nuances of My Nights

            A poet knows
        The name of all places
        And directions to none
           - Not a Poet 


I write because it hurts
And if I scream they will know my pain 
I don’t want to scream
Don’t want to shatter the serene mirror
That holds together 
All false reflections 
The world holds dear
For the blame of it
Would lie on me
And I have enough confessions to pardon 
In my soliloquy 

I slept late yesterday 
There was a tempest inside me
And my mind was anchored loose
I was swayed, buffeted
And at once painted still
As if my soul
Was the albatross 
From the Rime of the Ancient Mariner 
And I thought: 
Every murder is a suicide in a way
Isn’t it?
To surrender the right of your life to someone else
Without a fight 
There are many types of murders
Of trust, flesh and mind
Common massacres
Gruesome
One of a kind…
It’s getting dark

I should have had dinner
But the lights were too bright
And candles too dim
The plate felt soft
And the spoon too thin
Or was it me
Who felt brittle and blind
With so many dreams to dream
And so few days to do
(Now that was a lie
For I cherish my own incompetence 
Like a child does it’s once favourite but now broken toy)

I am afraid I have found
The edge of my reason
And the world beyond (And would you believe it?)
Is a mirror…
It seems me and this mirror
We are obsessed with each other
In finding faults
In pointing out to one another 
Our own shrinking horizons 
Until one of us agrees
The threshold of our limitations 

I slept late yesterday 
(No, I already said that
Pardon, it’s the mirror reflecting my memories
God I am tired)

Good night