Last Verse

If life was a game of cards,
who would hold the upper hand,
and to whom befalls the lower?

do you logically skew logic
and rip asunder those who care
tripping their live-wire, so that
they animatedly convulse
at your play?

or do you lay the steps
out so that
every flip is a smile?

If life was a game of cards,
would it really be
that simple?

I rather that the cards
not be in your hands
the strings that you knot
are enough.

It began with liquid skies and jello dreams,
Then wishes for selective amnesia
So that I can continuously taste the world
over and over
With crystal drops of rain
and spidery cotton candy
through laced fingers
and daintily tip-toeing
through fantasies
with exquisite gowns
and light slippers
and ornate crowns.

Falling
tumbling
over marshmallow clouds
and fine honey garments
for it’s a grand hall
that we shall waltz
gliding precariously
in silky stupor
so brimmed
with silver bubbles
tinkling clinking chiming chimes
releasing peals upon peals
of uncontrolled drunk with ecstasy laughter.

A breath
and let’s retreat retire
into billowy curtains
sheep-skin soft airy ways
and curl into bliss
sinking serenely
through muted-yet-bright waters,
bright lit eyes,
like dark lanterns guiding
that which way this wandering
preoccupies a dreaming soul
whose spirit
saunters canters careens a way-ward
preening whispered feathers of thoughts
boasting a full bosom of voluminous songs,
clear clear lucidly clear
as pristine as that sap
that drips from a mulberry tree.

Thoughts scratch the inside of my mind
captive gremlins with suicidal tendencies
catapult themselves
at the lining of this mind container
they want air, i want peace

unfortunately, their lullaby slips my tongue
so they retort
banging swinging arms
raging swinging for freedom
accumulating these productions and notions
of free air—
free air? really?

Dear Thoughts,
some things are better, un-uttered
left on the cumulus,
better to gain on the pile
then
upsetting on whimsy
air will not let you breathe
you’ll just grow,
whispered and siezed out of shape
till those hands and body
no longer familiar are returned
you would wish that
you had remained
in captivity.

i rather not unleash
unbidden fury
but smile
with a twinge of a grimace

Those gremlins will tire,
eventually.

We used to talk all the time, what happened? did i perhaps slip along the way? or did things drag you away?

each drop of time was just a whisper of tomorrows and yesterdays to be born. and i cheerfully swallowed the murmurs so that my stomach filled with pinpricks of hellos, yeses, happy-s and hugs. A concoction of cheer! a warmness filled with sun simmered in me. And i breathed deep. and didn’t even need to smile ‘coz the smile was always there, it bled through and saturated my every atom and they danced and fizzled with unbelieving energy and hope. because there was always a tomorrow. always another smile and peals of laughter. always another. always…

now i’m left listening to the empty ringing of my ears. where did the whispers go? the teasing tics and mischievous piercing gazes. where did they all disappear? i’m feeling quite alone, because these walls amplify the emptiness in my stomach. and the depleted sunshine in my mind. and my body, no my shell its see through, i’m no longer that prism of existence that expanded and exploded shine.

We used to talk
all the time,
what happened?
did i
perhaps
slip along the way?
or did things
drag you away?

the world really has a way
to toy with this heart.
it gives me something to love
whole-heartedly, breathlessly and without fear
and as my happy heart beats joyfully
lost in a bundle of carefree energy
He grabs my heart
in his cold metallic fingers
and wrenches
presenting me
my beating heart
infront of my eyes
as the beating ceases
as the congealing breath spills out

why must you torture me so?

if you must, keep my world dark,
that is the only plea
from this moment on.

and
i will show you
that,
heartless, i will be
your ruthless enemy

There’s something about being
unable to do anything
because disease grips your body,
and all you can do is lie in bed
and feel insignificant that
a mere fever cough ache renders
you useless.
But that is dependent on how mere is defined
with every cough a breath is sacrificed,
insides ripped till
I’m left wishing that
if my breath was to be wrenched
from me
why not just cast it out
instead of these torturous methods
that with each painful breath,
as tears acclaim the pain, that I breathe one less

Staring sideways at the sky,
its brilliant colors reflects
what I aim to be, but as insignificant beings
why do we make everything so significant

it all seems so unnessary— and childish.

“did i turn you into a poet?”
i asked him

“sort of”
he replied hesitantly
“and it’s all your fault,”
he added

i smiled furiously
“i gladly accept the blame”

In the mysteries of your discovery,
I pluck upon a thought,
and hope you’ll come to me…

out of whispers
graciously, a bit shyly but confidently
i’ll smile forgetting that
i had forgotten to smile

it will sure have been
a long time since these muscles have moved,
smooth lines turned to oscillating murmurs.