Friday, 27 September 2019

abyss

there is a pleasure
in
falling
down
into abyss

so much so that
no hand can reach
to pull you out

we all like visiting
that place
just to make sure
it exists
and we can return there
only there
when
there's nowhere else to go

Monday, 10 June 2019

guilt

what is this guilt
this deep, strong
guilt of living, of life?
what is the word for it?

guilt

climbing the stairs and panting
guilt
sleeping safely in a room
occasionally waking up with a few mosquito bites
guilt
going to watch a movie
and feeling courageous of not standing
guilt
eating, thrice a day, sometimes even more
and then exercising to lose it
guilt
the sheer possibility to waste,
tons and tons of waste
guilt
to be waited upon
guilt
paying at the end of the month
and getting paid, at the same time
guilt
having opinions and the liberty to voice them out
and accumulate likes on social media
guilt
missing home, family
guilt
writing poems

how is it possible to be guilty
and cherish the reason behind it, at the same time?
to preserve it, the guilt, within,
to not let it out, cage it inside
and remain punished solely by oneself?



Tuesday, 11 December 2018

possess, not

there is this urge
a longing
to possess
whatever i see
i feel
experience
to possess the horizon
the taste of crimson 
in the evening sky
and the monotony of the waves
crashing over the rocks
to possess them
the difference between
the shades of green 
on a tree
the lapse in the movements
of a bird in flight
and the sound of dry leaves
crushing beneath my feet
possess the crescent
slowly dissolving
into the darkness
and the silence
pushing me into sleep
possess the power
of being able to stare
into the warmth
of the setting sun
and watch it reduce to nothing
possess the experience
of time passing by
with the changing light
and that fraction of second
when the mind melts
into dreams
possess each word
and what becomes of it
as it rushes
onto the supple surface of paper
from the growing limbs
of my thoughts


but

i don't want to belong,
in that possession,
to anything
anyone
belong not
to my own thoughts
heaving my body down,
to the wind 
pulling my hair 
and trying to take me along
belong not 
to the fresh stain on my sleeve
or the man staring at me
with his comfortable piercing 
thoughts

how is that possible

belong nowhere
and still possess it all?


Wednesday, 25 July 2018

memory of light

I sit and stare at the passing clouds
over Treis Elies
while the sun revolves
around the orbit of my
still body.
silence is broken
only by an itching throat,
I cough
and wave the silence around me
it mutates and dances
sometimes as the sweet smell of pine trees
or as a distant whistling of the wind

here 
time is nothing
but a memory of light
days, dates and hours
are lost in this memory
what remains?
a cup of dusk at the cafe
or a walk in dense darkness

while my eyes wake up 
to the flooding light
the wings of a fly
echo in the silence
they carry a memory
of today
embedded permanently
in my conscious

it is good at times
to miss a bus or catch a wrong one
to encounter things
outside the prescription of life

Thursday, 1 February 2018

Blue

my hands are very cold
blue blood
rushes
and stays
at the tip of m
y fingers

it's been two hours
between your warm hands
but didn't you just come?

he says he has to leave
it's getting late

but you just came
I say

he rubs my hands
puts them in his pocket
and leaves

my hands are warm now
but I feel
very
blue

Thursday, 21 December 2017

orange

isn't it good sometimes
to be stuck in traffic
and stay
stuck
not reach
the destination
destiny
anywhere

i have an orange
in my bag
it travels with me
to work
and back home
i always forget
to eat it
it stays
in a corner
of my bag
i like it
there
stuck
waiting
while i
listen to the impatient
honking cars
flickering lights
people with music
in their ears
and games in their hands

but
the orange
stays
sitting in it's dark
warm
corner

waiting

Tuesday, 12 December 2017

nausea

nauseating
this place
and me
?

tirelessly seeking
for equilibrium
there are walls
inside me
pushing 
one 
another

my words
my thoughts
make no sense
anymore

what this city does to you
is make you porous
and numb
at the same time
you swallow everything
but without letting it
swallow 
you

I've closed my ears
but I still hear
the nauseating
whispers
from the streets

I still hear
I still feel

yet
as I shut my door
as I sit in a corner
of my room
as I close
my eyes
my
self

I
swallow