Month: February 2023

The drowning clutches at a straw
And finds the hope and strength to swim.
The straw becomes a parable
For tiny votes of helpfulness,
But all forget the drowning found
The hope and strength within herself.
The straw was simply just a straw,
Though herald of a change of state:
The drowning swam alive to shore;
The camel broke and cried, “No more!”

Unreason, you are teasing me:
Forbidden fruit or daily meat?
It was an easy, obvious choice
Until I heard your reptile voice:
“Why don’t you sample both in bits?”
That plagued me with why-not-itis.
No way I can untaste the fruit.
No way to simply play the mute.
My Life is short; its Task, undone.
While I am busy having fun,
I’m setting myself up to cry
And ask you for a quick retry,
As if it’s all a video game,
Which I can play without a shame.
But maybe there’s a chance it is?
Perhaps, I’m overthinking this?

Do werewolves have the right to love?
Forget the novels, movies, shows,
And look for once at how things are.
We know in most relationships
You see a beauty turning beast
And then returning back to beaut.
We know you want to kill sometimes,
To simply rip them all apart,
And then to put them loving back.
We know somedays you hardly talk
And weeks go by in silent wars.

But all of that is human still.
There is no real-real beast,
Who loses touch with how it feels,
Attacks against imagined threats,
Attacks because it’s made to kill.
And when it bites, it shreds to bits.
Can one survive with beasts like this?

And yet no wolf survives alone.
The wolf requires a family.
The wolf has just as right to live.
And so perhaps the right to love?
Though how it loves may not be love
That you or I would want for us.
It comes to us, therefore to see
Its love in all its growling stares.
It comes to us, therefore to feel
How much for us it truly cares.

It’s good you got away in time,
Before I started getting worse.
Before you suffered who I am.
Before I started growing terse.

The demons come by daily now,
Their voices screaming out of sleep.
But, thank the Gods, they slip away
A little after breakfast pills.

They must be settling round my abs
For every week I grow an inch.
They must be settling round my thighs
Despite the 5k runs and gym.

The demons must have dwarven blood,
For every day they mine my mind.
I squeeze my temples, forehead, scalp
And hear their shovels clang behind.

It’s good I can be who I am
And still be somewhat useful too.
It’s good we got the time we got,
And good I picked a thing or two.

It’s good so many people came
To eat my head for little things.
Were I to stay in bed today,
As I had wanted yesterday,
I would have lost it. All of it.
It’s not so easy: taking joy
And breaking it to thousand bits.
It’s not so easy to employ
My wording skills to call it quits.
I have to be a stronger man
To stand my ground with confidence.
I have to wait a longer span
To live my dream with competence.

I’ve bought myself a zugzwang now
At price of newfound, age-old friend.
No matter how I make a move,
I will be worse off in the end.

Do I resign? Or, do I play
In hopes that some day luck will turn?
For if it doesn’t, I am heading
To a fatal crash-and-burn.

My body’s screaming, “End it now!”
My mind is pleading, “Play it through!”
But when I ask which move to play
It’s clear that I’ve got no clue.

“You love the drama, don’t you, son?”
I hear his flowered portrait sigh.
“I have to be the man I am,”
I whisper as I pass him by.

“The hair is growing back, I see.”
“It’s been two months. It better did.”
“The funeral seems yesterday.”
“We missed you at home. Yesterday. “
“I meant to come. Been busy, so…”
“You asked me here instead. I know.”
“He was my friend, all said and done.”
“All said and done, you did not come.”
“I have been busy. Yeah? Alright?”
“Alright. I’m here. What’s on your mind?”
“I have a job for you, you see.”
“A job? For me? Your courtesy?”
“I heard you haven’t found one yet.”
“And so you found for me instead?”
“The least I can do for my friend.”
“You have been busy, in the end.”
“I asked someone, who asked someone.”
“The same someone who beats for fun?”
“No, no. He acted on his own.”
“Just after picking up your phone.”
“Your mother thinks I sent him there?”
“He did give her your crazy stare.”
“My crazy…my…She’s got it wrong.”
“She waited for you. Two months long.”
“I’ll talk to her. Go, fetch her here.”
“Your anger doesn’t hide your fear.”
“Now, listen, son. Enough of that…”
“Alright. The job? Involves your flat?”
“You know about it? Not surprised.”
“My payment will be biscuit-sized?”
“You’ll get a check. It’s all legit.”
“Until someone explores a bit.”
“You only have to sit and sign.”
“Employee of the dotted line.”
“Your uncle was my right-hand man.”
“My father, though, was not a fan.”
“And yet he’d always take my help.”
“For which he’d always beat himself.”
“Here, take these papers. Read them through.”
“I’ve read them. He made copies too.”
“So, see this as a settlement.”
“Of all the favours you have lent?”
“Of everything he ever owed.”
“And isn’t that a heavy load!”
“Indeed, indeed. Come join me here.”
“Thus opening your cage of fear?”
“What fear is that? Now, look here, son…”
“How much he told me: all or none?”
“He kept his matters close to chest.”
“Your export reaches Bucharest.”
“It seems he told you everything.”
“And Jim Beam makes your henchmen sing.”
“My henchmen? I just grow some crops.”
“That reaches even Cuban shops.”
“You watch too many movies, son.”
“I only had to watch this one.”
“You bast…You better leave this town.”
“You thought I’ll parley when I’m down?”
“My world is not the world you know.”
“And I would like to keep it so.”
“I always meant to keep you out.”
“So make it known beyond a doubt.”
“Your father was a worthy man.”
“I do, dear Uncle, what I can.”
“You’re feeling quite elated now.”
“I’ll leave you with my humblest bow.”
“Police already has that clip.”
“The viral web will twerk and flip.”
“It will not bring your mother back.”
“You’re threatening direct attack?”
“We only had to scribble signs.”
“Instead, we’re drawing battle lines.”
“You showed your cards too early, kid.”
“Who knows? I may have aces hid.”

…

They said the kid had overdosed.
The case was promptly shut and closed.
Reporter Uncle shared the news
To pull me from bereavement blues.
“His father was a teacher too.
Be grateful. This could have been you.”

No reason for sorrow.
Yet, I have sorrow.

No reason for joy.
Yet, I have joy.

No reason to suffer.
Yet, I suffer.

No reason to live.
Yet, I live.

Before I knew it, time was up.
If only I had listened more.
Instead, I talked and talked and talked.

Before I knew it, time was up.
If only I had paused some more.
Instead, I walked and walked and walked.

The turtle in the polythene,
The eel among the plankton green,
Pre-warned me of my stare obscene.
Instead, I gawked and gawked and gawked.

Was that a smile, or was it fake?
Was that a laugh, or was it staged?
I could have screened the words I said.
Instead, I squawked and squawked and squawked.

Throughout the couple hour tour,
We stood divided by a door.
I could have answered who is there.
Instead, I knocked and knocked and knocked.

Before I knew it, time was up.

“Today may be my final day.”
A year ago, I chose to say
These words while getting out of bed.
Then, every day these words were said.

Except, today it slipped my mind
For I was woken from behind
By tiny knees upon my neck –
The tiny niece I picked and pecked.

I held her like an aeroplane
And zoomed her past the windowpanes,
In which I caught a glimpse of death:
A pigeon drawing final breaths.

“Today may be my final day.
And though it kills me now to say,
It may be yours; your parents’ too.”
She only laughs and gurgles, “True.”