Wave of Confusion

 I am riding a wave of confusion, 

uncertainty, 

despair, 

dejection. 

I am listening to the paralyzing 

sounds in my head 

Telling me in incoherent and disjointed 

words 

that this thing - this very thing

could all be a big joke 

But I will keep doing it anyway 

everything will fall into place 

the fears, 

the voices 

and the storms they bring with them 

and then, with a sincere smile 

I will say, 'we are bosom buddies.'

Every Beginning

every beginning makes one confront 

the possibility that there is something good,

even minute,

in the obscure distant horizon 

and that possibility keeps many glued 

to mundane and silly hopes, 

hopes, that halfway through the horizon, 

come to a crushing halt, or 

end in some terrible form of defeat 

what are we, mere mortals, 

without the crushing hopes 

hopes that everything can crumble any minute 

it keeps us somehow alive, 

keeps our dreams in checks 

and guards our smiles from the coat of darkness 

when the crushing defeat knocks on the door, 

we take off our masks, 

and give the most diabolic smile ever 

because we knew the day would come 

It Could Be Better, But Doesn't Matter Anymore

it hits you, 

sometimes hard, other times mild, 

other times like a never ending torrent of hailstorms 

it's even harder to accept because

you been there before, 

and each time you promised yourself 

it could be better. 

or there was a better way, 

you are better than this!!! You bang your head against the wall 

But you've been here a thousand times, 

there seems to be no way out except the murky 

waters 

of resignation, 

Going with the flow, 

If the tides are good, then you are good

If the storms get you, then even better 

But you are better at not getting better 

it pains you not 

when you are hurtling down the road 

of bad decisions, 

because, because 

you can afford it. 

It could be better, 

It could be worse, 

It does not matter anymore

Meet Me

 Meet me by the bleak line 

between existence 

and nonexistence 

meet me on the blurry line

between sanity 

and insanity 

On these places, 

one is just glad to be alive 

even when they have died many times 

because dying without the actual act of death 

makes one come alive - at least one more time 

Fridays

Fridays, 

days gingerly stuck at the end of hard weeks, 

and look good, always dressed up 

like Fridays dress up

but Fridays don't always stay, 

she fleets by, like a bombardier over enemy territory 

or is Friday an enemy of other days?

Is Monday jealous that its hated unlike Friday?

Monday asks: why would a jobless person look 

forward to Friday? 

Why?

that's so unfair

but Friday does not care 

It goes on being Friday, 

and a people's favourite

because it suddenly seeks legal to partake 

the devil's piss 

 

The Nightmare

The guns began blazing 

screams rent the air as soldiers 

and civilians 

took cook 

I took cover with soldiers 

Behind soldiers - sorry 

it felt safer there, 

But unbeknownst to me, 

Our backs were exposed 

like the butts of African children

a fugitive appears and shoots me in the shoulder 

there is not too much blood,  

yet I am numbed

the soldiers urge me to move on 

where? I did not know, 

I follow them 

it dawns on me that it was not a bullet that hit me 

it was something else 

my hand develops numerous blisters 

one soldier tells to see treatment 

or else my hand would be amputated 

I go to a nurse 

But she was not a nurse 

she was a prank artiste. 

And I woke up

On Sobriety

 Two weeks you say? You are full of jokes

Staying sober isn’t a thing you are good at nowadays

With a little jingle in your pockets,

It always a full on drinking spree

It used to be nice then

But now you’ve began abusing people,

And groping women

You were not made of that stuff?

What happened?

You know what happened,

Staying sober is not a thing you are

Too good at anymore