Tomic Riter

Category: poem

  • How much could I take.

    last night I drank too much
    mixed beer and wine
    and I drank from midnight
    till morning nine
    I thought if anything was real
    or that all was fake
    and really, how much could I take

    I went to the sea
    and drowned myself there
    the sea picked me up
    and spat me out and said
    ‘You can’t die here,’
    I crawled out of there
    and sat at the shore
    and thought of nothing more
    but something is there
    in the waves that break
    and they got me thinking
    because really, how much could I take

    got myself a harmonica
    but I never play
    whether it’s frozen November
    or burning May
    got myself a piano
    when I was a kid
    which soon my mother hid
    got myself a mountain
    and at it’s foot, a big big lake
    because I had to see
    how much could I take.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Just another junkie in a bottle.

    red wine
    rooftop
    on a saturday night
    when the winds are still blowing
    and they are blowing so well

    a man once told me,

    ‘There’s nothing in wine!’

    few years ago, he was a junkie
    he could finish a whole bottle of whiskey
    without water
    now he is married and has got a son
    who, last week, had bad diarrhoea
    and was in hospital for two days

    and when someone gets married,
    you cannot really say anything
    about them
    often, they can’t say anything about
    themselves

    ‘Life changed after I left college,’

    that’s all he told me

    and I never, never ask anybody,
    whoever he is,
    about his life

    I have seen him often
    smoking alone
    and chewing cheap tobacco

    ‘I cannot live without tobacco
    in my mouth,’ he says

    I have seen in him the glimpse
    of a junkie on more than
    one occasion.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Rooftop blues.

    daddy came to me and asked
    if I can stay longer
    how longer, I asked
    the noose around my neck was getting stronger
    his voice quivered and was quickly gone
    when I threw on him a shoe
    I remembered his voice as I wrote
    the rooftop blues
    .
    mommy came to me later
    and asked if everything was fine
    I opened my mouth and told her
    that it was already nine
    and why would she come to me
    at night so late
    she could have come to me before eight
    I looked away and sent her to hell
    and I sat like a lonely fool
    and wrote the rooftop blues
    .
    it took all my blood to climb this up
    where only the empty bottles linger
    and not a single hot cup
    it took all my bones to form one full man
    and a thousand nights of songs
    to write what nobody can
    but where the hell
    where the hell
    am I going, I got not clue
    so I sat down one evening
    and wrote the rooftop blues.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • The naked man gonna sing.

    the naked man walks up the stairs
    there’s nothing much about which he cares
    and he is going on and on
    the naked man has been here for long
    .
    he sits every night atop his roof
    and listens to the animals bark and woof
    he stuffs his ears with cotton
    and hides his eyes behind sandpaper
    and if anybody comes knocking
    the naked man pays no attention
    and puts it for later
    .
    he kisses the wind and
    rolls back his head
    like he is satisfied and already dead

    he opens his eyes and looks at the stars
    the little stones burning afar
    he rubs his eyes and then rubs his skin
    and he opens his throat
    like the naked man is finally gonna sing.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • I shoot myself first.

    switched on the bulb but nothing

    no electricity since morning

    sat on the front porch

    got Dylan singing again

    Ballads of a Thin Man

    Sara Sara o Sara

    Hard rain’s A gonna Fall

    the thin man is back again

    I pull out an imaginary cigar from one pocket

    and a revolver from another

    I shoot myself first and then,

    I shoot that strange bird

    perched on an electric wire

    and I miss the shot and the bird

    flies off to a tall tree with curly hairs

    but it doesn’t matter

    it doesn’t matter

    I am dead already

    but the bird is still there,

    talking bogus to the still winds.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Afternoon burning.

    Outside, a crow singing

    in lord’s praise

    while I finish my glass o’beer

    it’s twice sunny today

    and the roads are on fire

    and so are all the vehicles

    I lie down in my bed

    with a ceiling fan right through

    my stomach

    and I switch it on full speed

    because if that doesn’t bring me some cool

    then nothing else will.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Those eggs last night got me spinning.

    nose jammed, headless

    ‘what day is it’

    a bird cackling on my window bar

    the garbage truck didn’t stop and rolled away

    called my boss, ‘I am not coming to work today.’

    ‘What the hell! Even I am not coming today. HA HA’ he replied

    ‘Good,’ I said and threw away my phone

    I shook my head to have a clear vision

    my unfinished book was waiting for me

    and it needed to be written down.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • A morning beginning.

    Poem by Tomic Riter.
    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

    Just a little poem I wrote on instagram this morning. If you are there, I would love to connect.

    Click here to visit my Instagram account.

  • Only losers come to bars on thursdays.

    only losers come to bars on thursdays

    losers we

    no waiting for friday night

    or saturday evening

    I occupy my favorite cabin

    cabin number 26

    and order a frozen bottle

    of Budweiser Magnum

    What a liquid!

    What a mood I am in!

    volcanic,

    close to eruption

    outside the cabin, men sitting

    on chairs and shouting

    at the television that is turned off

    LOSERS

    WE

    each one of us sitting here

    right now,

    trying to calm down

    or gear up and burst.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Moonrising.

    idly rotating along with everything

    how beautiful – moon rising

    nobody else watching

    nights like these won’t be coming

    from deep red to orange

    to the final golden

    the sound of water dripping from a pipe

    cool breeze accompanying

    I imagine your body over mine,

    crawling.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.