I am Bitter With Time

I have seen days that have 

melted 

right in my hands, scarring me 

as though the were acids, 

freaking acids of time 

crawling under my skin, 

craving for my soul 

I have seen time wedge itself 

across the tightest places, 

a bond of people who loved each other 

acids of separation, 

excuses that did not make sense 

and when love is gone 

you discard pride and rudeness 

and replace it with some undying love 

I am not bitter with time 

I am bitter that it doesn't wait for me 

I want it to stop for a while 

I want it still, yet keep me breathing 

because I want to resume living sometime 

later 

The Hungry

 the hungry and proud sleep 

with grumbling stomachs, 

the hungry and poor are not choosy 

their stomach can digest any kind of bacteria, 

hungry and poor rummage through bins 

looking for anything remotely edible 

they compete with flies in the food chain 

the hungry, and broke 

oscillate between hunger and pride 

the pangs bite their consciousness 

of course they have to blame someone 

or some force in the universe 

On A Stroll

 a careless sense of purpose 

has been fixed upon my set of wheels 

I moving, or seeming to move 

as though its against my will 

a careening off the road

I am trudging uphill 

I am moving although it does matter 

that I am moving 

because I have fixed a careless of purpose 

on my set of wheels 

I hurtling downhill one minute 

the next I am trudging uphill 

The Night Howlers

 before, long nights such as these, 

times when you feel like banging 

your head against the wall, 

we'd try to escape our misery 

and seek refuge in loud places 

among unfamiliar faces 

peering through the hazy cigar smoke 

sip our drinks and engage in solitary thoughts 

or strike a conversation with strangers 

strangers who will solicit drinks from us 

those nights are gone 

the nights are filled with thugs in blue 

and curfew 

we are stuck dark things 

like grumpy wives 

and thoughts 

and walls 

and several unlived dreams 

the night howlers scream

but no one hears their screams 

because coronavirus rules the air 

the seas, and the scenes 

Another Sad Poem

 yawn, 

nurse your fatigue 

it is not unique 

you are just chasing the same old dawn 

drown, 

or dive in to save your sorrows 

the sun rise with its blows 

until shadows stop being drawn 

yawn, 

and write another sad poem 

it wasn't you verse them 

you just were afraid of dawn 

You Lay Cold In A Freezing Heart

 you lay cold on the floor of his heart 

teeth clattering amid pleas

of love 

Yet every morning, he poured cold water 

all over you

knowing how much the water made everything 

worse  

You pleaded him, promised him cute and intelligent 

kids 

But he heard none- he was deaf 

But, then, you survived 

And when you remember how you 

thought you couldn't 

nothing seems impossible 

because there is always a light 

even in the deepest recesses of sorrow 

Stories Beneath Silence

 the stone throws a hard stare, 

like how it has known for staring 

staring at vagaries of weather 

weathering

a slow disintegration into another 

form 

or formlessness 

or something to gives promise to other lives 

yet, for now, the hard stone cold stare 

revealing nothing, not even blinking 

only a laughter that hides 

stories beneath its silence 

a stone cold silence