Vortex

A Dream,
A Vortex,
That pulls,
That nudges.

Running through the transluscence,
searching,
falling,
and breathing no more.

Overview

I look down from my balcony,
A sea of faces,
An ocean of bobbing heads,
And all ask the same question: "Why bother?"

"Do we need to?"
"Why does it have to be me who cares?"
come from the few
who even bother to look up.

They are wearing sunglasses,
There's a sheet of transparent glass
separating each from the other.
Protective gear,
and yet so vulnerable.

It prevents us/them from seeing the bleeding trees,
from hearing the screaming,
from seeing the pillars falling upon which our very foundation is,
under the weight of the flaws of society.

Their vulnerabilty makes them retreat further,
walking away from the trees, the grass, the mud,
into four walls of concrete.
Distancing them all the more.

It's disturbing.
The screaming, the bleeding and the concrete
and yet,
I choose to remain up here.

This was written on 24.07.2005.

Search

Come find me,
I need to be found.
The sand from beneath my feet is being drained away,
My breath being sucked out.

Confusion and turmoil,
Real and Unreal,
Hope and despair,
All jammed into one small head.

The swing moving slowly,
Back........................ and forth
Back ........................and forth
Time ticking by.

This was written back in 2005.

Untitled

The parched hands,
The rough skin,
The thin body,
and me, being able to count the ribs.

The clothes hanging loosely.
The feet bare, gripping the soil underneath them.
The ashen and wrinkled face,
speaking of sorrow and yet spelling out joy.

His son next to him,
wrapping his hands around his fathers legs.
With so much pride, as the father talks.
And me, the privileged one, watching, listening, sympathising.

The man, happy with what he has,
speaking of his condition while laughing,
just keeping enough to cater to his needs,
kissing his son on the forhead.

A smile playing on his lips,
He tells us of how little land he has,
of how it might not rain this year,
and how his training in masonry failed.

I might've been able to say something,
If the man had cried,
If he had expressed his sorrow.
Instead of smiling. Happily and calmly. Just smiling.

He has a family to feed but no food,
No clothes,
No proper home,
and me, envious.

Envious of the man's simple happiness,
Envious of that smile
Envious of the way he thanked us for coming,
Thanked the people who have to this condition of his.

This poem was actually written a couple of years ago.

Light

The damp blackened walls,
Smelling of stale death.
The window shutter held tight by straw.
The crumbling fireplace that hadn't been alight for years.