The wheel of time churns the disarray dust,
settling on the unstable shelf of my lonesome life.
In the maiming moments of painful perturbation,
truth crumbles in the cauldron of confusion chaos.
My detached mind learns to emotionally disconnect,
cultivates the aspirant ability to evade attachment.
Repulsion frees me from the bond of attraction,
acerbic aversion forms within me a citadel of apathy.
As hard times strikes my private space
the boundless walls of the castle, seemingly impassable,
foil the foray of the outer world to my inner sanctum,
a cocoon of imposed isolation in blissful insulation.
I become a lone prisoner of my making,
captive behind the sensual walls of volatile pride,
find people disappear like mist beyond the horizon,
snap the unseen interaction cords of understanding.
When time comes to travel to the twilight zone,
the instinct of self-preservation dwindles in debris,
the walls collapse with the shattered senile senses,
getting buried in the wreckage of the broken antenna.
The sky is full of ice.
Anguished shrapnel that
tears through the thickest
of winter coats.
Between us is a dock.
An impassable canyon
that rots at my feet
and falls away into waves.
Your eyes.
Glassy pearls nestled above
a crimson dragon
curled tightly around your neck.
The loose end flails in the wind.
I yearn to tie it into a knot
but am reminded by the flapping sails
that this was an inevitability.
A final glance.
Your face is a boiling tattoo
etched into my mind-
it warms the heart slightly.
I turn and walk towards the hills
because on the snow capped peaks
is where the mountain and the sea
will finally meet.
If I do, you are one of very few
They say its nature to speak
So why is it impassable for me
I accept myself, I accept my defeat
To speak is hard, harder for me
People question my silence
people merely encourage me to say
Though the same don't support
when I say.
Whenever I say my mind
each time I try
That little spark of joy is
blown away by the people nearby,
I am questioned, I am denied,
I am scolded for my words.
So why not I keep them
Why should I try
Why should I speak to be free.
I am questioned regardless
I am hurt regardless
...maybe that's why I cry.
Twelve inches of snow
all roads are impassable
sled ruts on the hills
Sometimes the light's all shining on me
Other times I can barely see
Lately it occurs to me
What a long strange trip it's been,
from Truckin by The Dead
Life is a Journey
Life is a long journey with
high hills and deep valleys.
Day after day one foot
in front of another.
Dark nights of deep depression,
offset by sunlit days of happiness.
Take one day at a time, and
accept what is my lot.
Failures, like impassable walls
block my way.
Success provides the path
around them.
People appear along the road
to accompany me.
Some for a short time and
others for the whole trip.
Sometimes people
act as my guide.
Other times they seek
to hinder me.
Many times, I walk alone
with only myself to rely on.
Sometimes I am surprised
and other times not.
In my golden years, I look back
at the road I have travelled.
Sometimes, I laugh, other
times I cry.
The Dead were right.
It has been a long strange trip!
In this shattered dream
I didn’t want the silence
Goalless the flying hope
On the swinging touch
I wanted the love
But I’ve to be silent
I wanted a warm kiss
I wanted the agitated touch
I wanted the elated shared bed
Expected impassable celebration
Expected never decaying pleasant time
I expected the love
But I’ve to be silent
Age in the teen, golden period
Playful density in the mind
Blue tickled embracing
Inebriated dance weaving
A knot of hands in hands
Wandering steps on the silvery pebbles
Sipping espresso with the masking sun
Drizzling on the oceanic hills
Everything I wanted with the love
I drew a crowded station on the winked canvas of love
But silence, silence everywhere
Now I’ve to survive in the silent letter
O’ Love is the farmer of the silence with the craving surf
©Mahtab Bangalee
29th January, 2025
Chattogram
Swaying branches spy as secret spooks in canopy’s dungeon
Creepers knitted around trunks like ornamented bead chains
Suspended pillar roots appear as the matted hair of Lord Shiva.
Hoarse noises as non-rhythmic beats of an amateur drummer
Serpents dragging their bodies on dried leaves with cracklings
Hoots, chirps, clicks, and whoops from the crowns of trees
Whispers of exhausted leaves and goggling eyes of silent owls
Spiders’ silky webs levitating as the canvas of boats
Trunks green with mass, standing as Lucifer's lieutenants
Scent of flora mixed with acrid smell and the floor with sticky clag
An impassable stretch never been eyed by the sun and moon as well.
PLACE: 3rd
His thoughts sun-drenched tears.
His bloody pen his whole life.
His motive is always unrequited
love to all.
he has no ulterior motive in doing this
His unflagging whispers
stride along the impassable road.
He spells an heavenly dawn.
He writes the green dream in the palm
of his hand
If you were here, what would I say to you
How can I express what is in my heart
How is it that I have such an overwhelming desire
For someone I have never met but it seems to me
I have known you for a lifetime and loved you forever
You are the familiar face that has always been part of my dream
Just to think that I am unable to reach out and touch you
That you are indeed tangible within my soul
What an abstract phenomenon you have etched in my mind
You have given me the only dream I wanted to become true
That I am loved by someone like you
It is inevitable that in my heart you will never become that
Nonfiction novel which ceases to find a romantic ending
You have fabricated through the impassable egnima
Of me, others have struggled to understand
You have penned your love sonnets within my heart
All the pieces fit so perfectly. We are each muse, so you tell me
I am your accompanist to wherever your words lead me
In this concurrence of fact and fiction
I can say with all the pureness of my heart
You are a dream come true my Cyberspace love
What an abstract phenomenon you have etched in my mind
Order in court, you're charged fallible,
Held in contempt for rhymes impassable.
Corny pick-up lines I applaud,
Infringing copyrights is fraud!
That is why we are not compatible.
breathers
inbetweeners
restricted, impassable
threshold
worn down
worn out
closed off
knock knock
i don’t have the heart
to turn her away
life’s knocked her down
the hinges creak
deep breath
I’m open
I’m mom
Part of me says stay small, part go big
Part says eat your fill, part don’t pig
Kenko says: long life brings many shames
I say the gray sky brings winter, no blame
The impassable mountains we revere
Moderate the force of wind and water
Get the cement truck into the refrigerator
We shall honor all of life sooner or later
Anything can happen if you don’t resist
To get lucky you gotta be careful first
You discover dying’s much like living
Who should I thank for the pity of things?
O to have the smile of a lover
Who wouldn’t rather be elsewhere!
Sometimes
By Benjamin Mui
Sometimes
The silence can grow louder
No
My heartbeat fills my head
The internal pounding resonating deeper
Now that everything has slowed down again
The flow of thoughts runs steadily on
The rhythms matching closely to the early morning birds
Who failed to realize not everyone beats the sun out of bed
…wish I could talk with them
Sometimes
I hate myself
No
I hate the way I think
The way I have to fall out of love with love
The way I have to feel happy about being sad
The way I have nothing yet am losing everything
The more I think about it the more confusing it gets
…it can get tiring
Sometimes
The world feels small
No
My world feels small
Like there was an impassable void surrounding me
That forms and blips out of existence at random
Like an uncontrollable shadow were cast over me
A flash flood of intense sadness and loneliness
Realizing that it might “just be me”
…it’s gone now
…it’ll come back later
…maybe I’ll write then
March, pelts melting snowmen with freezing rain,
while black ice coats near-impassable roads.
And driving on city streets that can't drain,
while rife with potholes; frustration explodes.
I love the feel of freshly fallen snow,
Nature's equivalent to fluffy down.
And yet, I prefer Spring, when warm winds blow,
transforming the ground to a muddy brown.
Spring's breath melts rivers once safe to walk on;
even frozen icicles can't escape.
And Winter's white duvet will soon be gone;
revealing a bleak and barren landscape.
Yet, soon the wildflowers will start to sprout,
for renewal's what Spring is all about.
it is another day and I’m in it
seizing it or not is a choice
when emotions battle with reason
and the heart mingles with my mind
trespasses on the dark soul of ambivalence
motivated by apathy and restlessness
as I pull more weeds in my virtual garden
a couple of bees skirt around
the lemon-tree
suck what is on offer
and spread the good news
that life is what you make of it
my glance falls upon a single rose
lush red thorny
of impassable beauty
which reminds me
that nature has its way
of sustaining itself
and healing sorrow thoughts
as the petals unfold
their unique message
I take in the scent
and know that the aroma
is there for the taking
free at source and given
with unconditional love
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