July

LOST AND FOUND

IMG_20170717_073100We move in the middle, not confident

Wondering when life will begin

As if today was not yesterday’s future

We keep waiting and watching

Hoping for a tomorrow that’s unheard of

And looking for meaning in nothing.

 

Are we not lost and found

Trying to get through the storms

That once drowned us mercilessly

Are we not lost and found

Hiding from our faulty fast lanes

And working around the clock?

 

There’s something nobody talks about

That one topic that’s not a secret

But it’s too real to be spoken of

And so we act like all is figured out

We think of ourselves as friends

But in truth, we’ve never met.

May

A TRACE OF MAY

Twitter80fad54As this May fades, I still see traces of my previous dreams

Upon this bed, I listen loud for questions writing wills

Have I been sour, upsetting all that tread upon my path?

Have I been kind, a sparkling light that brightens every heart?

Is this how youth goes away

When there’s still so much to say?

Is this how night turns to day

With too little time to pray?

Does my mind only conjure

All the best thoughts I can draw?

Does my spirit stay ashamed

Of the purpose yet achieved?

As May fades away, I see traces of hope

As I tick this day as gone, I still await a show

Maybe May was a stage sent to test my living skills

May May leave me good traces of these daring drills.

April

IN THE REALM OF HOPE

Standing at the junction
Staring at the glasshouse
Rethinking your earnest longings
Counting all your impossibilities
Admiring the grocery store
Brings all the expectations rushing back.

But keep your heart laid on perseverance
Look intently at the things you see not
In the realm of hope, shun depression
There still lies the pasture of pleasure
Comfort and the unknown you can predict.

April

ONE LAST MOMENT

Twittera4082efOne last moment in the sun
Will be a time to jump with joy
One last moment in the rain
Will make me bleed away my pain
Long before now, have I longed for a first time
A first time to have the best moment
To be priceless, worthy of a prize
A first time to stand in awe of myself
And admit indeed that I’m not a local
A first time to claim gigantic glory
That’s beyond the voice and smiles
This is still the start of the road
But I can find no victories in sight
Maybe the eulogies have just been lies
Or my feeble feelings are too fickle
Maybe I’m still too far behind
Only dreaming about a first time
On bended knees with my heart bleeding
I seek the last moment to be first.

March

WHERE’S YOUR PASSPORT?

You shut your eyes from every sight
That you can’t fight or recognise
You tell your mind you are alright
When everyone knows you are nuts
You hide your pain behind the veil
Waiting for moonlight to prevail

Why don’t you claim your passport?
You are the bird in your skin
Why don’t you put more effort?
Only you can move your wings
Where is your passport, friend
What is your unique key
How can the world say you belong
When all you’ve got is only a throng?

You stay silent by the sea
Lost in thoughts no one can see
You persuade the wind to cease
Only to crumble at its feet
Are you afraid or just ashamed
That you are losing every feat
Are you in doubts like the blind breeze
Of the right turns to take at dusk?

March

AFTER EVERY MURMURATION

Book Gossip _ Bringing Books to Life - Nashville Public Library.jpgWhen I grow into full stature
And gain the real identity of nature
I’ll cease to hear the tiny voices
That whisper sweet nonsense to me.

All the murmuring at dark hours
That painted in my mind small towers
All the paintings on the wall
That made me think no faith is tall
All the questions I never asked
The wild rivers I never crossed
That golden rule I always took
As it was lettered in the book.

When I grow out of this saintly day
I’ll toss my silent mutterings away
I’ll regain my voice, coarse but calm
And find the path that hides my balm.

March

MANY FACES OF DOUBT

___ Omnibus Fragmentary Imagination Of an Anonymous DREAMER_ Troubled Mind.jpgMaybe this blessing is a curse
Maybe being alive is death
Maybe glories are only defeats
Maybe laughter is purely pain.

It’s been a long ride waking up
Picking plates and cracked cups
Dialling numbers and placing calls
Shuffling papers and writing letters
Sitting by the phone and staring at the door
Imagining outcomes and staying hopeful.

Maybe hoping is only being helpless
Maybe morning is only a melting wax
Maybe this dream is only a peaceful nightmare
Maybe I’m just an inventor of maybes.