after ‘The waste Land’, by T.S. Eliot
I met a woman on a glitching screen,
her face a whisk of pixels and prayer.
She spoke of shattered systems and survived code,
“The cloud remembers everything,” she said, "but forgets what matters.”
A rat hurried through my feed at dawn,
past memes and headlines, each a kind of omen.
I tried to fast-forward spring,
but April clawed through my notifications anyway.
In a thread of ghost towns and tagged regret,
I noticed a cafe with no floor, only static,
A man sipped Espresso beside a socket,
charging his distress while waiting for replies.
Data rains in blasts, all prediction and pop-ups.
The Sun sets in Beta,
and we refresh the silence,
hoping for something new to load.
For then, below algorithms and ash,
a bud breaks code in cracked concrete,
muted, untagged,
but blooming still.
Categories:
untagged, april, endurance, loss, recovery
Form: Lyric
The duality of love, a woman brings, is the only possible thing,
that can save a man from himself. An untagged stray, harboring pain buried deep and unreconciled, unable to be healed and forgiven, by himself or others.
Inevitably causes the love the woman has brought, to move away, reluctant to be accessed, unless things could feel right again one day.
The man, his eyes now open, considering what's best for her, clearly no longer reachable, must recognize his self inflicted wounds, and start to heal them today.
And his gift for her? Fading silently away.
Categories:
untagged, absence,
Form: Free verse
Remembrances
Are they just pieces cluttered around?
The letters in the box, the dried roses
in one of the pages of my favorite books.
They all seem, are going along with me
like waves unknowingly push the detritus
into the bed shore and bring them back
again to the bosom of the ocean..
There, they float unnamed, untagged
Rain comes, shatters their wraps
Storm tears them apart, exposed
I lift every meaning of them,
cry every dent of pain,
fix every chip of attachment.
I rather, them be placed in the corner
where no one dares to visit and shove them
away to the farthest part of my drawer
and labeled, ''not significant."
But how?
When their paces keep me up
as fast as I want to escape,
as slow as the time ticks to leave them behind..
When the red ribbon that binds them, peeks
through the whiteness of forgetting..
And here I am tracing back
what these remembrances have to say,
spreading on the table of choices,
to dwell or to let go
This, I am yet to consider...
Categories:
untagged, emotions,
Form: Free verse
In the depth of this sea
how many breaths are lying
silent, in its entirety
the waves does not stop
messing with my head.
Hush! let me hear the song of pearl
what made it to leave the shell,
in the deeper realms where nuts and bolts
of my world lay.
Things it brings from a shore to shore
untagged in any specific name
warming in the sunset the waves
gushing over this message still.
Throwing them away, tossing there
to the heartbeat of sinking sun
revealing in the surf far
we cannot ride.
Categories:
untagged, feelings, irony, life,
Form: Free verse