Archive for the ‘Rhymes’ Category

The Ship to Nowhere

The chimneys launch their darkness upwards,

Upwards and into the clouds.

The smoke comes from the sweats of brows,

of those toiling beneath.

The heat, the grind, the burns, the bruises, they run deep.

The blood mixes with the sweat,

drops trickle into the fiery abyss,

and all you see is the darkness rise up.

The destination is death,

Or at least a version of it.

The shore you left is too far behind,

the closest land,

is where the dead sleep.

The dark abyss at the bottom of the sea,

has the eerie feel to the land you reach.

Both are dingy, surrounded by the like-minded,

And the unlike.

Yet…it reeks with the feel of desolation.

Fear for the known ahead

Fear of the unknown around,

Remorse for the life behind,

Broken with the long walk in between.

There are no life boats,

There are no flare guns,

For a flare gun just sparks and sputters,

and its incandescence,

is a blaze of shame.

To ask for help… unthinkable.

To show emotion…regressive.

Man overboard!

The icy depths chill your spine.

You feel the murmurs,

the tremors,

the lurk of the darkness you gave yourself to.

Head back?

Head away?

You look around and all you see is darkness.

The closest to land is a thousand feet down.

Hell is closer than land.

The light in the distance,
is the ship that left……

Thoughts: The Past, Present, the Future and all that’s in between.

A dystopian future calls me out,
The sirens blare,
I shout out loud.
I scream to the crowd,
My voice drowned by those passing by.
Sigh!

The days merge and the nights blaze bright,
The deep desire to fight, keeps away the option of flight.
My fear keeps me up at night,
It sets my soul alight.
I search for my holy grail,
The ability to lose, to fail
To be honest and at the hint of error
To not bail.
The light, it blinds
The retrocedes my mind,
I trust my sight,
For it’s the only part that shows me my plight.
To see the way things go by.
Sigh!

The voices are gone,
The sounds are drowned,
The rapture is deafening,
It sounds like an awakening.
I look up to see the skies,
Ah…the bliss that meets my eyes.
I see my present,
It speaks in a dialect I don’t understand,
I realize it speaks in the future,
And I rest assured,
For the future is but an allure.
The future is alright,
The future is passing by….
Sigh!

The life after…

He sits in succor,

Loneliness a constant companion.

His patience, a gaze,

He looks unfazed.

With a sky full of stars,

He sits…..

Wondering, blinking, waiting, and thinking.

Reminiscing the days gone by, the times well spent.

The paths well-trodden,

And those paths he left.

 

But his loneliness bites,

He tries a smile, it smites.

His friends long gone,

Solitude is his own song.

His dreams unmade, some promises unwept,

His wishes unfulfilled.

Days remind him of his flaws, days just relent.

He thinks back to his days,

They seemed like an abyss.

Of freedom, frolicking and running in the sun

None could touch him….not even one!

 

But alas that one night,

He thought he drove it right,

But the haze…it removed all light.

The look on her face, full of fright

The twisting wheels, The screeching tires

The smashed glass, the wreckage, the fire

The skidding car and the flips it marred

It took her, only her, for he was barred.

 

He looks up at the skies now

It’s been 3 years, he drags his baggage in tow

The sky is still, the moonlight shines bright,

The stars were spinning that night, but now, they are alright.

He struggles with his depression,

The daily walks for suppression,

Therapist orders for regression.

Life is a bitter teacher,

For you learn slow; you learn blow by blow.

And solace is a bitter pill to swallow,

For those who pity in self wallow,

Can’t rise to ebb the tide against its flow.

 

Pills galore, mixed with the hard stuff,

He falls face first, his brain soft as muff.

The sky is spinning again,

The stars are moving across the plain,

But now there is no fire,

No sound of a screeching tire.

For this is peaceful…

Serene.

And he closes his eyes,

Knows he will be with her soon.

A deep breath, and he can hear her croon.

His life is complete,

Or what is left of it anyway.

Bless his soul, he gave it away.

 

He still fights on….

The day forlorn, he waits to mourn

The fight was strong.

He stood along the men beside him,

their faces grim….

And they fought with valor, their courage for show,

The enemy was defeated, blow by blow

This day is done, this war is won.

The battle rages on,

His fight still strong,

This day forlorn.

 

He sits atop with axe and heart,

Both dripping with red, Both not too far apart

He needs some rest, some respite,

He knows he still needs to fight…despite.

He sticks his axe, with all his might,

It sounds heavy, it feels light.

His eyes scan, the distant land,

His mouth still bitter, the taste of victory…..now bland

Bodies and blood, all lying in the mud.

A wasteland!

 

A million miles, A million days,

His wife and kids they sleep unaware,

His death for them would no more than a nightmare,

For he left them all, despite her says.

Despite all protest, He packed his bags,

He stood his front, his heavy heart sags.

His nation called, it asks for blood,

It’s seeped in mud…..

For that is the price of freedom,

It is what is decreed for him.

 

And now he stands desolate and alone,

He fought the war, for a throne,

And he won……??

And he thinks of those whose wives and kids,

Sleep in their beds (or maybe lie awake),

They too are unaware,

of the deaths he caused,

Would cause them nightmares.

Waiting for their man to return,

To tell them stories about their side of the war,

But the stories are now…..taciturn!

 

He shrugs this off, the guilt the remorse,

He did nothing out of force.

He served his nation, He destroyed lives,

He doesn’t have the time to imagine the tears of their wives

or kids who would be without a father in their lives.

The battle rages on,

His fight still strong,

This day forlorn!

Thoughts: The Last Soul On Earth

Holds his head in his arms,

Cradles, soothing as a balm.

He reminds himself, speaks reassuringly,

Fear not, the worst is yet to come!

Now is not the time when you feel it is done,

Now is not the time for some fun

Now is not the time for alarm

He clutches his sleeves at his arms,

And pulls himself closer,

Its soothing… as a balm.

 

The gale blows hard and it blows strong,

Head bowed he powers on,

The playful exuberance is but done,

The overbearing urge….

But he knows….

He needs to slum.

 

Time breaks all; it is the cruel,

It starts with a test and then teaches the rule.

The will is mighty, no pen no sword,

Though they fall short against his word.

He suffers like a solider, fights as if cornered,

He reeks of desperation,

but his aim is not of evasion.

 

Those far off laugh and smirk,

They do not understand,

What he needs, for,

their own life is bland.

But he knows there is no rest

He wants more…

He demands the best.

Excellence perceived is not worthy,

Excellence achieved is the worry.

The rat race aside….coz that is for rats

He strives ahead, the world is flat.

 

He pulls his hoodie closer over his head

The warmth spreads

His frown disappears

His mind is clear,

He marches on….without fear

For he knows, that though he has survived this gale

This fight is still on and he cannot fail

He wipes his brow, pulls  himself closer,

This sky is now calm,

it is soothing as a balm.

 

Thoughts: It Could Be Worse

I stare at the screen,

Inspiration remains amiss.

My eyes search for my dream,

I think I would have more luck with ice cream.

Life mocks, snarls and growls,

I look about brooding,

Contemplating it’s scowls.

The luck I need seems protruding.

 

The days drag on,

I stray along,

Each week is a test,

Cause only survivors beat the rest.

But is that all there is to it?

For only survival is what I detest.

To reach, to jump, to stretch to spread

To do more than I can before I am dead.

 

The days convert to weeks,

The weeks to months.

12 of them zip by so fast,

I didn’t know if they would last.

Life moves at its break neck speed,

I sit trying to contemplate my deed,

I think I’m ahead of this life, but I am a dunce,

Heck its lapped me atleast once!

And with a slight increase in waist,

I lay waste,

But in the end, I know for a fact,

The bubble hasn’t burst,

It could be worse!

Thoughts: The End is a New Beginning

He walks the dusty trail,

Wandering vagabond, he looks frail.

A steadfast look at the tranquil yet ominous,

Inviting, yet treacherous.

A vast emptiness lays unfolded in the dust,

It requests, invites and then begs him to take them on.

And when all else fails….

They dare him, “Come on, you are but our pawn”.

 

He keeps his calm,

The rattle in his walk, acts as a balm.

Determined, the swagger.

He won’t back down, he never has,

The trail stands on its own,

He continues to walk alone.

His pace consummate,

He walks into the unknown, he can’t turn back, it is too late.

Not too fast for he doesn’t underestimate,

Not too slow for he isn’t laid back, he has his faith.

He walks into the unknown,

Begrudgingly

 

The woods, they invite,

Playfully for starters, just to get a bite.

For they know he is not one to be mocked

Time and again, they try, they want him shipped,

They want him docked.

And he walks on….

The zephyr turns to a breeze, the breeze to a gale

The rustle of the leaves, the chirp of the birds

The decibel grows, they want him to fail.

And then,

Just as quickly as the cacophony had risen,

It drops.

The saturninity transcends.

An eerie placid calm returns

He waits,

For the inevitable storm.

 

The storm is a myth, He keeps his fend,

He can’t let go, for what lies await at the far end,

His dream, his life, his ‘prize’,

His wish, his desire, the love he eyes.

The disturbances bother him less, (or have they reduced?)

He walks on looking to find his bliss.

His eyes transfixed, he sees his gift.

A deep breath, a sense of accomplishment.

And then, he does what he intended to do,

He picks up his prize,

Smashes it to the ground

It glitters back at him, confused, pleading.

He mocks condescendingly,

He walks on…

He walks on alone.