POW!etry

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L0ST (POW!etry)

When you’re down you smell like rain. Perhaps that is why my body spreads out like an umbrella – to shelter you from god’s tears. But people tell me not to get involved – and so I crawl back into myself to stare at you from behind my skin. Perhaps you will not notice that I am still staring. But people tell me that it’s wrong. Should I let you be? Should I soak up your thoughts with my heart? People tell me the heart is like a sponge but maybe I misunderstood. I should learn to stop taking things so literally.

Your smile pulls me in. It’s hard to keep my distance and to observe you from afar. I should abstain from you but it feels wrong. Yet people tell me that it is a proven method – “distance can break and undo the workings of the heart!” How do they know, I wonder? I cannot but throw a smile in your direction, even if you do not care to catch it – even if you do not care for me right now.

I stare into you. But I heard it confirmed on the radio that this will only make things worse. So I look away. Why have you retreated so far within your thoughts that I cannot reach? It is a childish feeling. I remember a time when I was a child, when snails would annoy me. I would try to touch their skin but they would quickly retreat into their shells. Why were they afraid of me? Why must you hide from me? Why must you run back into your shell every time I tell you this? Why must I always tell you this? Why can’t I just plaster my mouth shut and keep my distance? I don’t even own a radio!

Petal (POW!etry)

My heart is scarred,
I’m falling hard
Into the beautiful unknown,
Into god’s yard,
Into your sea of roses and soft kisses.

I’m afraid,
I’m blinded by the radiance of
Your soul,
I’m lost in your gaze,
Ever-fearful of failure.

I’m a god fearing leaf
In a world where I can feel no other heavenly touch
But yours.

I’m marred by memories
Of false hope and despair
And so,
I am ever-fearful
Of the distance between your lips
And mine.

You are everywhere
And in everything you touch,
In everything you set your eyes upon.
Your words dance
And your smile trembles at the sight of me.
I am a grain of sand in your palms
Rolling around,
Looking for warmth.
Don’t blow me away just yet,
Let the dust settle before you breathe.

I tried… (POW!etry)

Tonight I tried to write a poem
But I failed to convey,
All the things a poem should,
All the things I cannot say.

Sometimes I just cannot write
So I choke on words in vain,
And the more I fight, I drown
In countless synonyms of pain.

Maybe I should speak instead.
Maybe I should learn to mutter.
But my voice is coarse and plain
And in times like these, I stutter.

So I leave it all to you,
To decipher at your leisure
And perhaps this dismal failure
Shall invoke a secret pleasure.

I wake up in the dead of night
To find myself surrounded by a sea of salty sweat.
I peddle my way in the dark
To reach the edge of the cold bed.
I’m an island of misery.

Nightmares circle my shores like sharks,
I try to stay awake, out of their reach
But as I fall back onto the bed
And into sleep
Their teeth begin
To grind at my poor beach.
Slowly I’m consumed by nightmares.

I’m food for the gods
Of the underworld,
I’m desert for misery
And all her friends:
Solitude, suffering, hate and jealousy.

But!
At least I’m something.
At least I’m wanted.
And even if I keep such odious company,
So what?
At least somebody hungers for me.

As the clouds gather momentum and weight
I feel the air thinning in my lungs.
My breaths grow scarce and late.

I brace myself for a quick end.
My will is weak – I feel it bend.
The sky explodes
And in the end,
I cannot blink, I dare not lend
A helping hand to any friend,
I cannot fight and cannot fend
From broken hearts I cannot mend.

Yet I know it is my doing
That the skies should spew out death
And I long to share my secret
For the truth I must confess.

So I rally in my bosom
Thoughts once muttered, words once sighed.
And I lay before you
Truths,
All unwanted and denied.

The Park (POW!etry)

Sombre moments in the park,
Shades of green and crispy bark.
Purple lilies stretch to bloom
Nightingales invoke the moon.

Life here sings to simple rules.
Footsteps cling to grass and streams.
And its beauty often cools
Torrid hearts and gloomy dreams.

All the wonders of the park
Fight to carve a vibrant mark,
As uneasy footsteps lead
Out the gate, with solemn speed.

Verbal incontinence is the backbone of our modern society.

There is an unyielding obsession with boring conversation. Everywhere you turn people cower in the face of silence.

Mouths spit stale words into the open with no consideration for those who just want to be left alone. Is silence so hard to bear these days? Have people forgotten how to communicate in silence? Have we lost our passion for those melancholic sighs and ardent gawks?

People shit in your ear constantly, without remorse. You waste countless hours, your eardrums violated in bars, clubs, trains – there is no end to this abuse.

My stomach turns and my ears bend in supplication, oh lord make them stop! My head is filled with useless memories, which belong to others – it has become an open safe, where people I meet deposit their useless facts and stories.

My teeth grind words into unrecognisable grunts. I am not capable of speech anymore, only thought. This is the way forward, there is too much noise polluting our world and the silent understanding between people is missing.

“Tut tut tut!” I hear a voice:

“Wipe your mouth my friend, your words stink of revolution!”

The church is closed tonight and the gods slumber within its marble shell. In their absence, I forge religion from a strand of my own hair and spit fiery incantations into a bucket.

Years later I lick my wounds and open my chest on a mountain crest. Birds and airplanes fly into the sky. A roaring conglomerate of flesh and metal descends from the peak in discordant symphony and as the cloud zooms and gallops the earth, it condemns all mankind to a thousand years of procrastination.

I challenge the world to ask the right question.
One question, I say. One spokesperson, I demand. Think it over well and when you have all agreed on it, I will welcome your messenger on the mountain crest. One question will put me at rest; all else will only fuel my anger. Think it over well.

On the last day of the nine hundred and ninety ninth year I am approached by a boy.

Why did they pick you, I asked?

They didn’t! For seventeen years I watched and waited. At first I didn’t understand. Later I began to think. I met a girl and fell in love. One day, thought spilled out questions I could not answer. Yesterday I heard someone say that time was almost up and I thought about this girl and the pain I get in my stomach when she’s not around. I have a question and I have asked the grown-ups but they’re too busy arguing over you to answer me. This is my world too and so I figured…

What is your question, I interrupted?

OK, what is love?

Down in the valley man continues to argue. They are no closer to reaching a resolution now than they were when I first set them the task.

With one click of the fingers I break the earth in two and spill out all life.

Lad, it’s just us now.

But my girl? What of my girl?!

Love is pain lad. You asked the question and now you have your answer, can you not feel it?

The boy falls to his knees.

All I feel is emptiness and emptiness is what I felt before I met her… and now you have filled me with even more pain. Love is not pain, the absence of love is painful and the void you have created will only kill me! Why have you done this?

In one heartbeat I bring her back.

I just wanted to be sure.

I mould my world with plasticine hands. It is not a perfect world but it is utopian in its imperfect nature. Here, people are not beautiful, nor do they strive to become. The nights are always cold and another’s warmth is everlastingly absent. The moon exists, yet its full presence is never felt or missed.

This is a place where happiness has no name. Happiness exists but is never defined. It has no reverse; no opposing force to fight for supremacy. Therefore, unhappiness is even more ambiguous.

Long ago, someone managed successfully to define happiness. The feeling was captured and bottled, only to be sold on the growing black market for emotions. The venture quickly went out of business, as nobody was interested in buying something, which they could not understand let alone put to any meaningful use. So, happiness remained a grey area. Now, I have made it illegal – just in case.

I have made the sun subservient. I have stolen its glory and pocketed its splendour. But I am not a selfish creature – I have provided candles  for everyone – such is my benevolent nature.

Darkness however, is free and abundant. In fact, it prevails because I believe it instills peace and tranquility. Besides, it is a proven fact that sunlight in uncontrolled amounts damages the skin and the eyes. It is a precaution you see, it is love.

Just to explain a few things though, humanity has forfeit its right to choice. It is a simple necessity, which I recognised long ago. People do not have it in them to choose for themselves and therefore I volunteered myself as a public servant with limitless and paramount powers. Now, I choose.

There was a time when faces were soiled by fear and hearts suffered in unison. But now everything and everyone is calm. Calm and controlled.  This is my mould.

Air (POW!etry)

Hysterical hissing
Silent dissing –
Force me on my knees.

Piercing looks
Bloodied hooks –
Pull me to my knees.

Belligerent muses
Scanty excuses –
Roll me in the mud.

Stop!

Freeze my arms in mid-air,
Paint them red, the colour of war.
Hand me a knife
And turn fate on its axis.
Give me a narrow advantage
And place a fairytale ending
Within my grasp.

With one swing of the blade
I can slash destiny in two –
To crawl through the opening
For air

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