Everything looks good in a blur
Everyone is forgivable, far behind…
Tag: poetry
Heirarchy
He shook my hand
Back in the day when you can do such
He put on his public mask
Smiling at the burden that comes with fame
And I tried to speak
As if we were on the same level
He treated me like we were
Earth
She doesn’t mind getting cruel… get in a duel… Light this fuel… Turn her back and leave what’s behind her in flames
These Days Unlike Those Before
I don’t recall raining most of January
For as long as I’ve lived
There are no heavy gray skies
That drip as Siberian winds
Breeze through the few days
Trees are tricked into
Shedding their worn leaves
For the chill of tropic winter
A list of what rarely happens
Unexpectedly thinned out
The past
Never a Miracle Run
The champ went back home
She couldn’t believe it
She couldn’t...
Everybody wants to see her
On one afternoon
Parading with fists up in the air
The parade’s viewed better
Looking up
With the crowd united in a
End Credits on Borrowed Time
Denying it doesn’t make it less true
Explaining it doesn’t necessarily make things better
Still...
He was thankful for what she did.
Truly grateful for who she was. There was never the right time, space or words.
Only the right moments when the moments were
Early Morning
Dawn eases in
Dimly illuminating the damp street
Filling my fear
Signifying that I
Did not get the right amount of sleep
But what is the right amount
Of forty winks?
Thoughts Take Shape and That’s How You Figure Out
There’s a reason why roller coaster rides last only a few minutes
Pegged to the lower median of the population
Tolerance of thrill
So only a small portion throws up
And most of us who doesn’t
Are left wanting for more
But if our whole life becomes a vacation
Will we spend it by the shore?
Plot daily adventures
Games played, points scored
Find a new distraction
Only to be weirdly fatigued
Oddly
The Silent Exchange
Countries at war
In scale of two people
Related but can no longer stand the other
Cold and distant
Ready to blow
For the slightest of slights
In absence of, or too pointed, a humor
And it starts at the dinner table
Tricky is the trigger
Like a button that needs
Infer and Realize
For someone who talks too much
She said
There’s a lot of things you don’t say
Those that he calls menial
Those he decided as wantonly
Devalued in meaning
She was waiting for a tinge of saccharine
danDAman 