To spread or not to spread is the question
There is a certain delight
To disseminate the palpitation
The throbbing ache at the lump near the throat
Through nothing but words
Jotted hastily on the pulpit of my dream.
Perhaps I should remain silent,
Perhaps I should make an attempt
To bear all my agony and deprivation
With a little more grace and propriety.
I will stay here alone
In this gutter of endless reverie
Waiting to crawl beneath the earth
My solitary self,
I am so divested that all I can miss
Is the solitude of days bygone.
Sometimes I feel like believing in God.
Sometimes it dawns upon me
That it would have been better If I could believe that The universe is planning and conspiring Everything with me in mind.
Sometimes I feel the urge to be grateful
To have this gift of being here In this very moment Under this very sky To have the last glimpse of this ethereal glory.
I wish I could forget
I am but an ephemeron A wink in the breadth of eternity A fortuitous fruit of an abysmal randomness.
I am here at last
Before they devour you, my mother Just to witness the sigh about to befall And the dark night consume the last shimmer;
I am here at last
The final beholder of doom To hold my breath on the precipice of the end.
I walked along the millions and myself
Only to return through this desolate street
The heartbreak hotels lying by my road
The dusty horizon, tantalizing, evading, remaining still
The stillness, oppressively cold
The darkness creeping into the world like a secret pact.
I would survive all these:
Like a Midwestern nightmare
It will all be over.
The hollow meadow would perish into citylights
The lonesome road would merge into the citystreet
Bustling with joy and vivacity.
I will put on the smiling mask again
To march on the tune of the band
Of being happy, and prosperous.
Let us not pretend
The world will stop
With our silent departure
Through nooks and crannies of days bygone.
Let us not pretend
When our eyes will meet again
Amid the ocean of strangers
In the oblivious heart of a cosmopolis
You will recognize me and smile.
Both you know and I
That the last Goodbye
Remains silent, falling like a crimson leaf of the fall.
Our words and memories
Dying away like your receding footfall.
The chirping sparrows will fly away now for warmth
Will stand beneath this maple wood
Until the last leaf has fallen
Like my wistful heart.
Here I stand
At the end of the world
Waiting for the final bell to toll.
I do not see the man hiding beneath the façade
I do not growl for the loss of an era bygone
I do not excavate another passé idea
Of love and heartbreak, of self, of nature
And everything eternal.
I will take the hemlock on offer
But I will not go on a rant
I pledge not to make a sound anymore
And I will close my eyes,
Slowly as if not to create a ripple
Though the ether.
Nothingness is the only Constance
Everything else is but a surreal reverie
Waiting to be wished away.
I see the world, glorious and gray
Immured inside my fist
Imploring to my benevolence
Praying to be released.
Looking down upon the magnanimity
With a cruel smirk hovering by my lip
There is no resolution left to be taken.
No cause left to be defended.
No soul was left to have mercy upon them.
There emanates, but, a solipsistic chant
Sounding like a groan
Uncertain if effusing from pleasure or pain.
Posted in Poetry Tagged Existence, Free verse, Health, Jimmy Kimmel, Magnanimity, Oprah Winfrey, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Shopping, Solipsism, United States
There’s a space around me
A distance growing vast.
In the depth of my solitude
There lay the pleasure and pain
The follower and followed
The embodiment of future.
You and I will give birth to
Our solitary world
We will abandon
What is simple and true
And recourse to a life
Of illusory dreams and magical colors.
All that is left for us
Is silence and solitude
And a few hours in between.