Skip to main content

Loud Rain

The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…

On a friend who needs help


 He’s a lionfish in the tiny aquarium,

Bumping up against the glass

Confused.

He’s a lionfish in the tiny aquarium

Turning left,

Turning right,

Spinning around but going nowhere.

The cat scratches the glass

And the anemones blink at his shame.

The cat scratches the glass,

Blurring the little view of the world he had...

Blinding him,

Making him look at himself;

Making him look at his own image

Misshapen by those silver lines.

He is fed regularly,

And he eats

And grows regularly

Until his scales slither on the inward glass

Like people crammed into a glass room,

Piled up in all possible positions;

A hundred blinking eyes

And a hundred open mouths

Breathing out the little air that remains...

Until the tank bursts...


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Enlightenment

 One day coldplay came on radio And lifted my roof. I could see the sky And faces I wanted to forget And flowers I could not smell in the clouds; Flashing lights, Gunshots, Dances with some woman I’very never met. Oh Coldplay! Oh Tchaikovsky! How do you know The pain of one man out of the hundreds of thousands. How do you know what I’d forgotten. How can you care more than all I’ve met. You have more life than most people Because you have a soul. And a soul in man is rarer than the scriptures say. And a soul in man is dead if it still exists anywhere. Oh Coldplay! Oh Tchaikovsky! How do you know The pain of one man out of the hundreds of thousands. One day coldplay came on radio And lifted my roof. But then it fell on my chest And crushed me to a pillow of tears.

The days

 The days float quietly Like a bubble on a cup of coffee, Going round and round With the entire ceiling reflected on in; A ceiling that’s cracked And lacking paint here and there As if covered by blisters That never seem to heal… Blisters inflicted By age and moss, That expand… With the paint falling off But by bit. One day a scratch of paint will fall into the cup And pop the bubble, Making the tea forget All that it saw of the ceiling… Making the tea forget That it itself exists…

Loud Rain

The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…