Is your life today what you pictured a year ago?
I never pictured a thing*.
Enough with the memes. And now a poem…
Mind you
A mind, no mind’s eye,
Wondrous dreams
You pronto won’t find
Any negative in your mind’s archive.
Daydreams? You wish.
You can count on word clouds.
One, two… many sheep.
Ain’t it fun how it sounds?
P.S: *while I’ve never pictured it, life can hit like “surprise me”. Living the moment—imagine that.
Mind you, it’s a thing.
Time immemorial
Individuals stepped in line
Before them, a bank of time
So they would get their share.
—Here, take your time
It’s yours to keep, yours to lose.
I took my time allotment
Put on a smile, as if to say
“Watch me sell this.”
Take it or leave it
Your call to survive.
For ever has always been a fishy pitch.
Yet never was always too much time.
P.S: If that’s not me losing my mind yet, watch me.
Blabbers and gibberish.
Who do you think you are?
Talking to?
Babbles and utterance.
Who do you take me for?
You?
Gray matter, white noise.
Look who’s talking—
The voice in my head.
A performer on stage.
The voice in their head…
It only stops when they sing.
The voice in your head
Is now that motif…
That distracts you from your inner chatter.
You hum along, spreading their voice.
Maybe you’ll sing your own.
There, that’s the spark of your song.
I know this sounds strange,
but I’ve said it anyway.
What now? The act is done.
You’ve read it, and that alone
makes you aware of an in-joke.
The joke’s on the lyrist.
But still, he writes verses.
I know this doesn’t sound any better,
but I’ve written it anyway.
Take it or leave it, the act is done.
Words are symbols, before any meaning.
That’s the spirit—are you leaning or steering?
Would you expect me to toe the lines?
I own my winding lines.
[…]
You said,
I couldn’t care any less.
What’s more, that is not your best.
Last time I checked, you weren’t holding back.
You could see what was coming next.
Who knew I’d love you—when you fought back?
I said, “If you say so…”
Fear not the poet.
What’s the most they can do with a pen?
They can cheer you, entertain you,
then just sadden you soon after?
Oh, they can tickle you?
*a meta wink
Now isn’t that a laugh?
Too bad there’s not a laugh track.
You always know when to cry;
don’t need a track for that, right?
Oh, you’re saying that you laugh at yourself?
Yet when you cry, you cry over someone else.
You cry because it’s over.
Now isn’t that a cry?
Oh man, welcome to life.
Now you can’t help but crack a laugh
at the irony of your life’s tragicomic track.
If only that were a crying baby in the other room.
You’re but a grown-up knowing not what to do.
Now, when you cry it’s over.
Not a cue card, yet the audience applauds.
You freeze, and that ain’t a dramatic pause.
(So what’s left for the show?)
The denouement is over.
nothingness comes
and nothing becomes
obliviates all
things that never come
how come that nothing
is even a thing
is it a negation force
a logical “not”
that turns anything into nothing
and nothing into a thing
as if it entered a denial state
that created everything
inconsistency, if anything
raises inconsistent beings
those who write and read
things just like these
Now the second hand clock
Washes its hands of time
Reveries That I Call Poetry 