I stare at the Setting December sun,
its seen so many of these.
For some, its a time of happiness.
For some it's just a tease
There is a world, that, I've been told
where people seem to breathe
But what am I? cause truth be told
a man who cannot be.
-S.Meer
Showing posts with label Poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poem. Show all posts
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Ode to my Cigarette.
Kurt Vonnegut described smoking [pall Malls] as a classy way of committing suicide.
Most people forget why they started smoking in the first place or why they continue to do so because if you ask them, they'll almost definitely say that they don't feel the kick anymore.
Maybe it's Physiological, maybe its Psychological, maybe it's neither, but they do feel good to smoke.
As for me, I feel that the reason I smoke is definitely psychological in nature.
Here I describe how I feel when I smoke, feel free to close the window if you don't feel like reading this.
Ode:
I had just found out that my one little dream had been shot down
shot down even before it had a chance to lift off of the ground.
Squashed like a wingless insect.
My sister; is in the living room
she's watching some crap on the television.
I have to smoke a cigarette, that would calm me down,
help me overcome another devastating setback.
I lock my room, get into the loo.
I feel safe away from people.
There is no draft no breeze,
the surroundings silent from the lack of any kind of motion.
It was serene and calm.
I moved slowly to avoid disturbing the tranquility of the air.
I see myself in the mirror. How did it get this way ?
The problem is before me, smack on my nose, as is often said.
I light the match, its more romantic than using a lighter
The lighter with its garish plastic
and aluminum foil parts and its dead flame.
The flame dances, inviting me to its deadly warmth.
A devil it may be, but not one in disguise.
I light the smoke, and take a drag while I watch myself in the mirror.
The lit end; a beacon of the very life that is in me.
I watch as I slowly kill myself, the classy way!
Does this count as suicide ?
I see the plume of smoke disappear into my face.
Its full of poison, and it only harms me,
but at least it is honest.
It has no human faults
but has a life of its own.
I savor the feeling of self-destruction,
while I think of opportunities past.
I stare into the mirror but look into the distance.
I exhale, slowly, I want to watch the smoke leave me forever.
The smoke is my friend.
It exits, and swirls around, I wish I were high right now.
It dances and it mocks me,
it dances like a victorious warrior.
It trips and it overturns, fighting with itself,
Could the most beautiful flower in the world
beat its natural elegance ?
I would think not.
I have no regrets,
I take in another drag.
Its time is up, I extinguish it.
I will however never forget it.
It may be a one-night stand
I may be in an abusive 'relationship'
but at least it is not fickle.
I can have one when I want to.
And in the long run that is all that matters.
Most people forget why they started smoking in the first place or why they continue to do so because if you ask them, they'll almost definitely say that they don't feel the kick anymore.
Maybe it's Physiological, maybe its Psychological, maybe it's neither, but they do feel good to smoke.
As for me, I feel that the reason I smoke is definitely psychological in nature.
Here I describe how I feel when I smoke, feel free to close the window if you don't feel like reading this.
Ode:
I had just found out that my one little dream had been shot down
shot down even before it had a chance to lift off of the ground.
Squashed like a wingless insect.
My sister; is in the living room
she's watching some crap on the television.
I have to smoke a cigarette, that would calm me down,
help me overcome another devastating setback.
I lock my room, get into the loo.
I feel safe away from people.
There is no draft no breeze,
the surroundings silent from the lack of any kind of motion.
It was serene and calm.
I moved slowly to avoid disturbing the tranquility of the air.
I see myself in the mirror. How did it get this way ?
The problem is before me, smack on my nose, as is often said.
I light the match, its more romantic than using a lighter
The lighter with its garish plastic
and aluminum foil parts and its dead flame.
The flame dances, inviting me to its deadly warmth.
A devil it may be, but not one in disguise.
I light the smoke, and take a drag while I watch myself in the mirror.
The lit end; a beacon of the very life that is in me.
I watch as I slowly kill myself, the classy way!
Does this count as suicide ?
I see the plume of smoke disappear into my face.
Its full of poison, and it only harms me,
but at least it is honest.
It has no human faults
but has a life of its own.
I savor the feeling of self-destruction,
while I think of opportunities past.
I stare into the mirror but look into the distance.
I exhale, slowly, I want to watch the smoke leave me forever.
The smoke is my friend.
It exits, and swirls around, I wish I were high right now.
It dances and it mocks me,
it dances like a victorious warrior.
It trips and it overturns, fighting with itself,
Could the most beautiful flower in the world
beat its natural elegance ?
I would think not.
I have no regrets,
I take in another drag.
Its time is up, I extinguish it.
I will however never forget it.
It may be a one-night stand
I may be in an abusive 'relationship'
but at least it is not fickle.
I can have one when I want to.
And in the long run that is all that matters.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
DT
Another favorite poem of mine.
Robert Herrick. 1591–1674
To the Virgins, to make much of Time
GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he 's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he 's to setting.
That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry:
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.
Robert Herrick. 1591–1674
To the Virgins, to make much of Time
GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he 's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he 's to setting.
That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry:
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Zoso, you were right.
It was late.
I looked inside.
I found a secret.
A secret for my eyes.
while a sad song played somewhere.
then I remembered the 'mess', things were in.
The song now felt different.
had it changed ?
No the song remains the same.
I looked inside.
I found a secret.
A secret for my eyes.
while a sad song played somewhere.
then I remembered the 'mess', things were in.
The song now felt different.
had it changed ?
No the song remains the same.
Ode to You
Welcome!
Welcome to my blog,
my very own embarrassment.
It is like no other.
Yet, its another among millions.
It might infuriate you.
It might leave you unmoved.
It is mine, altogether mine,
and I have no excuses.
You might never be back,
never remember it again,
Yet I appreciate you
For the sole reason
that you came here once.
Lent me your ears,
albeit for a while.
Maybe, some other time,
this mightn't have been the end.
You and I could have been friends.
---------------------------------
Listening to Runaround - blues traveler
Welcome to my blog,
my very own embarrassment.
It is like no other.
Yet, its another among millions.
It might infuriate you.
It might leave you unmoved.
It is mine, altogether mine,
and I have no excuses.
You might never be back,
never remember it again,
Yet I appreciate you
For the sole reason
that you came here once.
Lent me your ears,
albeit for a while.
Maybe, some other time,
this mightn't have been the end.
You and I could have been friends.
---------------------------------
Listening to Runaround - blues traveler
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Ode to Unknown.
What do I do ? with this strange attitude.
'Cause it won't take me to you.
Where will I go ? when this thing falls through.
'Cause you've left me all alone.
How should I feel ? For I know not who you are.
'Cause that's how it has always been.
Whom will I blame ? at the fat lady's call.
'Cause I've done the best I could.
When will I learn ? of the folly in my ways.
'Cause I cannot take this torment much more.
Why can't I be ? like the rest of the 'pack'.
'Cause I'd like to feel no more.
--------------------------------------------------------
Listening to Take 5 - Dave Brubeck quartet
'at least I mind my own business' SiegerKranz Meer
'Cause it won't take me to you.
Where will I go ? when this thing falls through.
'Cause you've left me all alone.
How should I feel ? For I know not who you are.
'Cause that's how it has always been.
Whom will I blame ? at the fat lady's call.
'Cause I've done the best I could.
When will I learn ? of the folly in my ways.
'Cause I cannot take this torment much more.
Why can't I be ? like the rest of the 'pack'.
'Cause I'd like to feel no more.
--------------------------------------------------------
Listening to Take 5 - Dave Brubeck quartet
'at least I mind my own business' SiegerKranz Meer
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Send me pictures.
Here is something I had written a long time back. It is a poem, I remembered it while writing my previous post. Luckily I had stored it on my system. It has similar despair driven lines, I hope it doesn't put you off. Dedicated to the many 2 people who usually take the time to comment. You know who you are.
Gloria.
Even blistering pain feels better than the silence of death.
An unwavering gaze at so insignificant a scene.
He tells a story of lives past and beautiful mystery
And she will leave, as she always does.
He lies awake at night, to try and feel the misery.
There is not a soul he can turn to.
A flurry of notes, pale and tinged with sorrow.
A solitary tear trickles down his cheek and glimmers.
He dreads leaving her, to face the odds alone.
Wishes he could make a fair trade, A fare trade.
Despair, it won't work! A man dances in glee.
So he lies, and tries to buy some time.
The others. They say 'yes', he still has some hope!
'Hope, God, redemption, Happin...wait, it can't be. '
Its too good to be true. Then they laugh, and he rages
They knew all along. They pitied his stupidity.
And lo behold!, She was gone.
And lo behold!, She was gone again.
-----------------------------
Listening to Spitleaf - Zero
'I have a magnetic personality, I repel women.' - SiegerKranz Meer
Gloria.
Even blistering pain feels better than the silence of death.
An unwavering gaze at so insignificant a scene.
He tells a story of lives past and beautiful mystery
And she will leave, as she always does.
He lies awake at night, to try and feel the misery.
There is not a soul he can turn to.
A flurry of notes, pale and tinged with sorrow.
A solitary tear trickles down his cheek and glimmers.
He dreads leaving her, to face the odds alone.
Wishes he could make a fair trade, A fare trade.
Despair, it won't work! A man dances in glee.
So he lies, and tries to buy some time.
The others. They say 'yes', he still has some hope!
'Hope, God, redemption, Happin...wait, it can't be. '
Its too good to be true. Then they laugh, and he rages
They knew all along. They pitied his stupidity.
And lo behold!, She was gone.
And lo behold!, She was gone again.
-----------------------------
Listening to Spitleaf - Zero
'I have a magnetic personality, I repel women.' - SiegerKranz Meer
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