People Do Get Healed


Three years ago
I had to call you your new name

Your birth name was buried with tragedy and trauma

There were times you slipped
when you felt the day was good enough to be yourself

Three years flew by
When you called me all of a sudden
I heard your name
like a chime in the wind
soft and clear

You told me you have found yourself
in ruin and rubbles
still beautiful and worthy

Healing came when you reconciled with your past
and saved the best for last

My eyes welled up
into a smile
‘People do get healed’
plastered my thoughts

The Short of It

I mostly write short poetry, so it is fitting that my four short poems have been published by Susi’s the short of it.

Wisdom

Older and wiser
Acting more silly



Unintended Strategy

She’s always his unrequited.
That’s how she won him over.



Love

I love you most
When you say very little
And do what’s needed
To keep me smiling



Cracked

I drink too much
Because I cannot bear
To see my sober self
In the mirror
It reminds me of
Every bit of
what’s wrong with me
The day you left

A War Vet on The Street


Why are you turned off by my body odour
Why do you despise me of self medicating
You look at me in your pretty dress
thinking that
I am some kind of a predator

We were no different than you pretty lot
We had hopes and dreams
We dressed to impress

You’ll never know the scam
we fell for
in the name of protecting
people like you
who are looking weak and weak indeed

War is the devil
He steals, lies and cheats
He gives false hopes
He shatters dreams
He ruins
He kills

Now you know the truth
Keep walking and go your pretty way
Leave me alone
I gotta get my next fix

“No Makeup” Makeup Look


He burst in laughter
watching her creating
a “no makeup” makeup look

He wanted to say
‘You look beautiful without
all these expensive bottles and palettes’

But the concentration on her face
the brushes moved with her skilled hand
He saw an enthusiastic girl in a craft studio
enjoying creative elaboration

The Great Escape

She packed two silk dresses
and
seven different red lipsticks
caught the midnight train
to Paris

The rhythm of train lulled her
to the memory of yesterdays

She was cut off from the world
that she once lived in vibrancy
by a pair of cruel hands clasped around her neck
deceiving her as a silk tie but deadly
Light went out of her in that luxurious villa
Her shadow ghost roamed among the Spanish antique furniture
and priceless artworks

She pressed her pale face
on the tan sandstone wall
longing for the sun to rescue her
She envied the robins sang freely in the midst of bluebells and primroses

The night was starless
But she saw Van Gogh’s cafe de nuit
and smelled the roses wrapped in newspaper
resting casually on the table
by a café allongé
The soft song of J’en connais
calling her home

* This poem was included in Wounds I Healed, published by EIF, edited by Gabriela Milton.

The Selfish Writer

She woke up in the middle of the night, he was smoking weed, tripping and reading a book.

We need to break up, she said, I am breaking up with you; What? Why? What’s going on babe?

I am a write, and I can’t write without feeling things, I haven’t been feeling it since I met you.

But baby, how can that be my fault, I haven’t done anything wrong, he protested.

Shut up and fuck me to oblivion, my head hurts.

He obliged, she is his sin and everything is about her.

* This is written based on Denise’s Six Sentence Story prompt – Sin

#songshare – Frontier Psychiatrist

Frontier Psychiatrist by The Avalanches

Is Dexter ill, Is Dexter ill, Is Dexter ill
Is Dexter ill today, Mr Kirk, Dexter’s in school
I’m afraid he’s not, Miss Fishborne
Dexter’s truancy problem is way out of hand
The Baltimore County school board have decided to expel
Dexter from the entire public school system

Oh Mr Kirk, I’m as upset as you to learn of Dexter’s truancy
But surely, expulsion is not the answer!
I’m afraid expulsion is the only answer
It’s the opinion of the entire staff that Dexter is criminally insane

That boy needs therapy, psychosomatic,
That boy needs therapy, purely psychosomatic
That boy needs therapy
Lie down on the couch! What does that mean?
You’re a nut! You’re crazy in the coconut!
What does that mean? That boy needs therapy
I’m gonna kill you, that boy needs therapy
Play the kazoo, let’s have it tune
On the count of three
That, that, that, that, that boy.. boy needs therapy
He was white as a sheet
And he also made false teeth

Avalanches is above, business continues below
Did I ever tell you the story about
Cowboys! Bit , bit bitches and the indians and, Fron, Frontier Psychiatrist
I, I felt strangely hypnotised
I was in another world, a world of 20.000 girls
And milk! Rectangles, to an optometrist, the man with the golden eyeball
And tighten your buttocks, pour juice on your chin
I promise my girlfriend I’d, the violin, violin, violin

Frontier Psychiatrist
Frontier, frontier, frontier, frontier
Frontier, frontier, frontier, frontier
Frontier, frontier, frontier, frontier

That boy needs therapy, psychosomatic
That boy needs therapy, purely psychosomatic
That boy needs therapy
Lie down on the couch, what does that mean?
You’re a nut! You’re crazy in the coconut!
What does that mean? That boy needs therapy
I’m gonna kill you, that boy needs therapy
Ranagazoo, let’s have a tune
Now when I count three
That, that, that, that, that boy.. boy needs therapy
He was white as a sheet
And he also made false teeth

Frontier Psychiatrist

Can you think of anything else that talks, other than a person?
Uh ohh, uh oh, a bird! Yeah!
Sometimes a parrot talks
Ha ha ha ha ha !!!!
Yes, some birds are funny when they talk
Can you think of anything else
A record, record, record !