
slash the wrist of muted winter
snow bleeds flaming leaves
hang heavily on earthy branches
break the spell of seasonal blues
slash the wrist of muted winter
snow bleeds flaming leaves
hang heavily on earthy branches
break the spell of seasonal blues
This poem is dedicated to readers who are feeling lonely, depressed and hopeless. You have strength left in you to reach out, to dial the number and say ‘I’m not ok’.
the crowded room
is suffocating
comprehension of conversation
is fading
nodding
avoiding eye contcact
diminishing in chatter
and laughter
party is over
quick
shut the door
make myself small
curl up in a ball
sleep is not coming
live life vicariously
through social feeds
play some music
read some poetry
fighting loneliness
alone
the morning sun
is way too bright
red eyed
sallow skin
coffee tastes bland
not hungry
lack of will
to face the day
should check the mailbox
someone may wave
smile
and says Hi
it’s so worth getting up
step out
to see
hear
and
feel again
the door is locked
two metres is too far away
my will is too short-lived
rescue is too distant
drowning further down
into the whirlpool
of nothingness
on Boxing Day
I stop looking into myself
Introspection in vain
for I am a hollow man
There is a spiral
of nothingness
pecked out by crows
How do I escape
this ebony heaviness
Folding myself further
into a pool of tar
is suicide by default
In the end
I am bored of the wollow
So I stretch myself
and look outside again
The light is unchangingly
there
and the fullness
is outside of me
I was walking in idle steps down the park brown grass dry wind A woman with grey hair wearing plastic bags to keep warm laughing mumbling in her own merry world Why am I so sad so depressed got out of a warm bed in snug clothes I keep walking aimlessly to nowhere but following the woman She suddenly becomes my focal point and the only highlight I can recall in my pethetic expired life
This is the recent collaboration with Benjamin Grossman which helped me greatly in breaking my writing ‘numbness’. Please check out Ben’s blog if you have not already read his amazing work.
The glacial battle begins in our heads
Face pressed to the sun-pierced windowpane
January snow in recession, the signs of regression
Half hidden like an iceberg in the arctic water
And where once a soft glow illuminated the surface
Only the placement of desolation remains
Reverberating silent screams
There is no one way of knowing cold
The stages are fluid and transient
Its meaning bitterly ambiguous
Yet in rare lucid moments, I see husks
An empty bed, scarred skin, chattered teeth
Spirit-numbed mind, missed meals, vacant smiles
There is no one way of knowing cold
Its symptoms appear to have no rhyme or reason
Although they move with wintry doom
From person to person increasing in aggression
Till you understand the meaning of icy
Which unbeknownst to us creeps in succession
There is no one way of knowing cold
Though maybe it’s always the same
Emotional and physical reaction
A state of feeling dangerously low
Struggling to survive between cold and colder
The very same polar opposites: Arctic and Antarctica
The night overstays your company
You know the day will break again
if you refuse
to give yourself away to despair
The lover
who
wraps herself around your throat
digs her claws in your arteries
laughs at your virility
injects lead into your feet
claims you to be hers
while
fails to admit she is the trespasser
Photo taken by Cassa Bassa at Collaroy beach, Sydney Northern beaches, Australia
Rain trickles down the window
in the train carriage
The world outside is like
miles away through teary eyes
If life is all about the journey
I wish I could break the window
to taste the rancid of rain
so when the sun comes out again
I would be grateful
But for now
I cannot wait
to get to my destination
in an escape from
this tear soaked life
some days
the walls we built
crumble down
to burry us
in gravels
so god damn heavy
can’t escape
our lungs filled
with dust
can’t breathe
we have gone under
there is no further down
to go
the only way
is up
leaning my head
to the train window
staring at the train tracks
how mundane and
heading nowhere
it seems
daydreaming about the ocean
warm sun
salty mist
dancing on my cheeks
just enough to disperse
the molecules of blues