WAITING
in bed
the lights turned low,
i gaze at the ceiling
and in the cracks
i see moons shining
and stars dancing
from universes away.
i count the minutes
in the length of each
tiny light's twinkling
as they're consumed
by nothingness
only to peep out before
i could gasp another breath.
i entertain myself with
the galleons of clouds
passing by
until they all sail away
into the window,
into the light.
the door creaks open
and my waiting ends.
SIDEWALK THOUGHTS
i sit on a sidewalk
my life in stationary
while thoughts run
round and round
in a race
i could only wish the road
will run out.
i could finally hear
silence.
the littlest gust of wind
creates a sound as i
let out a breath of smoke.
18 cars past,
i wished they had dragged
these thoughts to where
i do not know of
until they all dissipate
until i couldn't care less
until all i could remember
was counting cars and
a vague memory
etched on paper
that i painfully erased.
THE HURT
Sometimes
The heart aches a little
The body feels old
The mind convinces both
That the day is too lovely to detest.
The thirst, i try to drown in
Glasses of beer and ice
'drink me, im your troubles' panacea'
The hunger, in the abyss of my thoughts,
I suppress with crispy chicken thigh
'eat me i'll let your mind fly'
My body parts going
In different directions,
my muscles moan
My bones hurt
My head diffusing and expanding
and back again
always in the verge of exploding.
The thoughts,
the endless worries I cannot suppress
all collapse into air
Only to return bigger and scarier.
I laugh at myself and
all i could hear is a cough.
Or a whimper.
I am not a happy soul these days
My body tells me so -
Cos the laundry is waiting
The credit card's screaming
The office is fogged of rumors and withering smiles
My dog's always pooping
My polaris not in synch
with my compass.
And i miss my family badly
And my heart's pining for home.
The heart aches sometimes too.
I will give it to my heart.
To ache to wallow to hate
Even for a moment.
ISSUES
We whine about work
We yammer about bosses
We squeak about
how the complexities
Of the roles we assume inside
This two-doored, four-walled
War-cage
Make us almost vomit.
We catch gossips
Hurled in the air from all directions
Like bombs hitting us
And exploding like stinky Poop.
We chatter
Of dirty kitchens and
Wild outbursts in British accent
and sometimes
Smile at british sarcasm we
Couldn't grasp in an instant
- Like a meerkat
That goes 'kruk kruk kruk'.
We talk about love and sex
Everyday during smoke breaks
As if the stories never end like
The cigarettes we consume.
We talk of boobs and boners,
Of Newcomers and blabbers,
Of Gold-diggers and
boyfriend/girlfriend-grabbers
Like a recently watched
Soap on primetime tv.
We breathe huge heaps of air
On the fifth
And face in front of a pc
On the twelfth
Only to breathe a greater amt of air
As if air would give us the energy
To carry on.
We are balloons
Puffed and puffed
Ready to go boooom.
We complain
But we work anyway
and never give anything
less than our best.
At times, we have issues
But resolve them anyway.
We applaud ourselves for
The little things we
Feel we triumphed on
and pat each others back
when one does well.
It feels like a 5 yr old
All over again
Rewarded with a vanilla ice cream
When a rare compliment comes by.
We lift each others spirits
Because no one else raises
A glass for us but ourselves.
We have laughter for lunches
And a cold set of beer reserved
After work on days when our
Wallets have enough to spare.
We have allowed a space
In our hearts for what we do
Though hours come by
when we'd ask
If our job could ever love us back.
We learned. We matured. We loved.
And together
We inhale and exhale toxic.
We've been hurt.
We've cried. -
For not being listened to.
We've got our hearts pounded.
We've rebelled.
- For things we felt worth standing for. Then we whine again.
We are big whiners with each other.
And then we laugh again
- reminiscing the good ol days-
And get back to work
Pouring our heart n soul
- Like beleaguered soldiers
In a seemingly eternal battle
Always looking out for that
Spark that promises an end
To this long dreary night
DAWN THOUGHTS
Here i am again
Terribly missing home
In a city
I can only count
The hearts that understand.
Counting cars again
One two three...
Twenty four... Thirty nine..
Their numbers piling up
Like the uncertainties
Of tomorrow.
The dawn is creeping again
Swallowing this sidewalk
In its coldness
In its indifference
To a lost drifter
Trying to make sense
Out of his purpose.
The daylight is breaking again
Through the early morning clouds
Painting the sky a lonely
Shade of blue.
The kind that makes your eyes water
The kind that makes you puke
The kind that tugs the chest
So hard it makes you
Grasp for air.
The kind that makes you
Feel like you're dying..
Or dead.
Here i am again
Thinking
Wallowing in perplexities
Fighting with reasons
Digging in concrete
Trying to strike a spring
That promises this
Breaking day of unfamiliar
Silhouettes will be mine
To conquer
THE BUILDING
The office
Standing tall
Teeming of faces
I cant all recall.
Ive always thot
That skyscrapers
Are made of concrete
But this firmament that
Sticks over the skyline
Are made of walls
That are just slightly thicker
And a just a little bit wider
Than that of the faces
That occupy its spaces.
It's cappillaries start moving
And then pause.
The Elevator stops
On mid-floors - suddenly our
Imagined Corporate-movie lives
Flop and someone just yells
"Holy Crap Im trapped! "
Back to reality.
Passengers awaken.
This lift might just be
Metal coffins transporting
Live people to hell.
Funny but It hurts when
At times one has to
kneel to the devil
To make a living
and then thank God
for the job
That provides each weekend
A set of beer at a club.
Twelve floors up
Where birds outside fly
And occasionally peep
On glass windows
chirping mutely
And choking of polluted
Air rising from below.
From the outside
The birds mummed of
The events inside -
The subtle insults
And sarcasm that bite.
The smiles to a computer screen
That doesnt smile back.
The laughs to a voice
That comes out from the wires
Stemming out from
Across oceans
where birds outside
Would not attempt to try.
The cursing hurled
Are nauseating.
The bodies walking
And running in squares
and circles
Back and forth,
Its maddening.
The weight of the problems
Of a foreign country
Resting on the shoulder
of this building
