She feels like standing in a room full of water.
Chasing bigger dreams like her windows can`t open any wider.
Failer comes when her winds blow in that quarter.
When she`s afraid of her purpose,
Success becomes the tallest order.
So she can`t imagine why we`d wish each other the same slaughter.
The knife of doubt invades passion like it has no border,
Suppose it is worse when you are the only daughter.
It takes courage to do your best,
When you know you will still fail the test.
Truth trips the tongue mid-stage
the mask cracks in the glare,
applause feeds on the lie
failure wears a spotlight.
youth fades with truth
truth holds the proof
smooth words uncouth
truth hides the proof
uncouth truth
I never know my body has rotten
until it appears through the wall mirror
these remains are heaped upon an autan
next spire takes a hearer turn for queerer
now urban commercial cores of gulag
I am a particular schlockier
for signs which are cheap to erect as clague
extensions can be found from that nearer
some convergent, others conflicting stun
I suspect having to do with my craag
this penetrates deeply into a gun
into the family into dague
extreme lengths to which I loosely spun
remain a shadow in place to slither
What does it mean to be the next flower to fall after the garden fence is reinforced with tears from the street?
It’s 25° C clear
but she’s gone.
The outlines of her shadow, hoping
that they’ll have a chance of putting them into use
in the fashion world.
She wears a black, backless dress
with a plunging front.
The soft contours of her breasts are revealed
through the mirrors on the walls.
On the front page a gazette
her cat walk
rushing down to the battle.
Here, you’re making the neighbours squirm.
Here, you’re making their claymores shriek their hatred.
That’s why your body sags against the bar in fatigue.
You’re trying to remember your voice.
Remember, your phone rings again.
It’s a voice you’ve heard,
that incandescent panic spread through the hall.
They’re marrying her.
They’re scarifying her for their day’s events.
You’ve made me interested in how she’s thinking
& you can’t control this with your beard.
Your gaffe is all there.
You gaze with gratitude.
The Failure
It is about vanity, a need to see one's name in print
The shortest of glory, five seconds, ten?
Switch off at that point of glory, and the fame can last
until someone else demands to use the tablet
A book of poetry, published in a small town in India
61 pages, and the editor and owner of the press
tells us the poems are great, not panegyrical, but ok
Sitting down to read one's thoughts only to discover
misspelling and less elegant sentences, what
The eyes had not seen before glared up with a smirk
Oh, the shame of this must keep it a secret, not tell
Should anyone ask, say the book was not published
this year and turn the talk to something else, like
The high electricity prices
When just a lad, I thought I was magic,
Doing a trick can sometimes be tragic.
The bird sang the wrong song,
The rabbit was long gone,
When they booed, I got very dramatic.
And again tomorrow
With purple flowers,
And the sun above
Or clouds and showers
Another day comes
To rise and to shine,
More than enough time
To breathe, to feel fine
Between dawn and dusk
A thousand minutes go,
Around and around
In moments so slow
Another night comes
To pause and to rest,
Gives us time to smile
Knowing we did our best
And again tomorrow
One more chance to try,
With the stars above
And the moon in the sky.
Don't know why I couldn't fly
When I had the wings and all,
Don't know why I didn't try
Was I much too afraid to fall
Teetering on the bridge that day
Arms outstretched, toes to the edge,
Then again, who would jump anyway
From such a treacherous ledge
Looking down from an incredible height
My last breath caught in my throat,
Teary eyed, I lost all of my might
One moment and that was all she wrote
I often think about that time in my life
When every thing was there to try,
When ridicule, rumors, chaos were rife
I don't know why I couldn't fly …
I fear many things.
I fear I stay complacent in my own misery.
Time is of the essence,
yet action for change is unattainable
And I speak of change possible for myself,
which is perhaps the most upsetting point to note,
for my limits are set on a glass roof
I fear I will shatter with my feet on the ground.
I fear my own fear.
Every step made with anticipation,
Words written with hope ,
Dreams dreamt under the stars ,
Words articulated with care .
The pen and ink all witnesses,
The paper the great bearer of truth,
The walls saw in silence -
As the future got laid on white paper.
Dreaming is good ,
Having hope is sweet,
Plans make the future seen ,
But failure comes unannounced
To draw is something …
I could never do well,
The joy a picture can bring
The stories it can tell
I could never do well
Drawing freely on my own,
The stories it can tell
Remains for me unknown
Drawing freely on my own
Pencil, paint and line,
Remains for me unknown
A skill that is not mine
Pencil, paint and line
An artist with a brush,
A skill that is not mine
A talent you cannot rush
An artist with a brush
The joy a picture can bring,
A talent you cannot rush
To draw is something …
So many ways to say one thing
More than one way to turn pawn to king
Too many turns to the grocery store
Which turn shall I take?
Countless words to choose from
From sunrise to sunset
Too many ends to be met
With no end
So many ways to say one thing
How will I say this?
The paralysis of perfection pours
A whisper at first
Drown out by the delusion of desirability
Preserved in acid proclamations of praise
Beating echoes in snowy peaks
Peaking in phrases veiled in value
Pouring
Heavy
Heavy
Heavy
On the mountaintop
Failure
Failure
Failure
One weakened layer causing seismic shifts
Elephant echoes fragmenting snowy ideals
Triggering avalanches of lost identity
Slabs of fallen promises break loose
Forming a track of forbidden truth
Too much weight bids perilous
Useless words of compliment
Descend to a suffocating
Ignominious demise
Plagued by tiny
Thoughts of
Fading
Perf
ect
io
n
The outside is where I belong
The inside so filmiar
A constant stride to belong
To fit the mold of what a man should be
Weak I am cancered by self denial
When will it end for me
Alone I be
What a disappointment
A shaded comparison of where I started
I seek something
But back away
When it gets hard I blame all but me
I am the cause of no resolution in my dimise
It's hard to see past all the flaws when they seem to out weigh the successes
Torn apart from it all
Just dwell in the peices of insecurities
What have I become
Lost in the shallow of a hollow man
In a world built in expectations I fall flat everytime
What is the reason for this prison
It's all in the past part of my present
When will this future become bright
When all around this body is a dark mass
Haunted visions ghosts of remembrance
This is how my life develops
Within the carnage of love and hate I collide
Still beaten and battered but whos throwing the punches
Me a lesser verison of myself
Where do I go
Where do a belong
In the wasteland of failure for all to flourish except me.
Related Poems