Tomic Riter

Category: poem

  • On going back inside that rusted chamber.

    a green piece of island
    in the middle of a brown desert
    a watchtower on the island
    not very high
    its light flickering
    a flickering white light in the middle of a desert
    is it a signal to somebody?
    or is it just faulty?
    it flickers day and night
    is anybody else paying attention to it?
    how would I know
    while it flickers, I watch it
    that is all I do with it
    whatever little life is left in people,
    they are slowly coming back to it
    slowly but coming back
    coming back to it slowly
    I wanted the horrific days to last longer
    going back to life as before
    haunts me to a certain degree
    I walk away from the watchtower
    I think about it
    I imagine it flickering
    I imagine it rotating fast
    I imagine it flying in the air
    and finally bursting to pieces.

    © Copyright 2020 Tomic Riter. All rights reserved

    Just a little note. If you are on instagram, do checkout my account by clicking here . I write there sometimes. Thank you for reading my work. Stay safe!

    – tomic riter

  • What a what!

    what a vibrant black evening!
    what a wind!
    what a tree!
    what a clouds in what a sky!
    what a colours orange yellow and blue
    all turning grey
    what a grey sky it will be soon!
    what a white lightning!
    what a kid getting blown away by the wind!
    what a smell of fresh rain
    gone before night
    you are slow, what a slow you are!
    almost disappearing
    I am too, not as much as you
    but I am too
    again, what a wind!
    what a sky without colours!
    what a mute thunderstorm!
    again, what a rain
    and it is falling
    what a murmuring of boring women!
    what a boring play of blabbering kids!
    what a boring crow
    flying back to its tree!
    what a useless me
    watching and hearing all this!

    © Copyright 2020 Tomic Riter. All rights reserved

  • What have you made me look like.

    what am I to you
    a toy maybe
    I fall on you and you hit me,
    hit me and in the other direction
    I go
    my scalp is bruised
    my arms bruised
    I fall on you again
    and my bruises touch you again,
    and sooner than I can think,
    I am rushing in the other direction
    again
    my bruises are deepening
    while you are laughing
    while I am falling on you
    again
    and again
    what am I to you
    your last joy
    before you become of this darkness
    I am rolling on mud
    I have fallen on mud,
    and now I am rolling on it
    and now I have stopped rolling
    but where are you.

    © Copyright 2020 Tomic Riter. All rights reserved

  • Out of no fucking where.

    an evening with its stars
    and all that hanging up
    and all this lying carelessly on
    these streets and these roads
    shimmering lights miles away
    or is it my eyeballs cracking
    imagining in turmoil what is quiet
    I listen to the gibberish of an asshole
    whom I have never talked to
    whom I have never seen
    he is talking without stopping
    nothing stopping his talking
    not these serene winds
    or this clear sky
    or this old corpse of a lady
    sitting next to him
    eating stones
    nothing stopping him
    I was talking to Dostoyevsky
    it was a talk going all fine
    and then that asshole jumped right
    in the middle of it
    in the middle of this evening
    that was going all fine
    before that asshole
    decide to open his mouth
    and then decided
    to never close it
    and now all that
    which was going all fine
    I wait for its return.

    © Copyright 2020 Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

    A QUICK UPDATE ON THE BOOK

    Finished the first round of editing. I thought it would take a week, and a week is what it took, so that’s good. Second round of editing, I plan to start soon. That’s all for now. I thank you for hanging around and reading my words.

    – tomic riter

  • Everything shaking.

    a slit in the sky
    orange bleeding over the hills
    crows burst and scatter in the air
    oh the howling growling wind!
    and a dear dog rolling in ecstasy,
    biting his body
    stretching his body
    sniffing the dirt
    for that good moment.

    © Copyright 2020 Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Dim.

    sun falls and burns away
    at the end of the day
    wind rustles and turns cold
    by its tail I hold
    as I keep going on my way.

    © Copyright 2020 Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • It has to happen.

    walking inside
    walking away from sky and wind
    a quarter of a night has passed
    the remaining is to be endured.

    © Copyright 2020 Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Disturbance.

    consumed with severe thoughts -
on the other side of this wall,
a bird humming.

  • A sweet bird brought me terror.

    5:23 in the morning
I wake up with a nightmare
a sweet bird, few inches long, is entering my body through my ear
its sharp beak is digging my ear
it bears an emotionless evil in its eyes
I wake up violently, and sit,
shuddering, looking all around, looking under my pillow
to find out if it is real
it is not
it is not
my ear is intact, eardrum in place, no blood flowing out
a mild relief grips me
no bird, I take a deep breath
a growling hunger fills my stomach with ache
I close my eyes and try to forget. 

    © Copyright 2020 Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Some words from my workplace.

    precious hours go wasted each day
the act of merely sitting in anticipation of work can prove to be cumbersome
doing work is easier, it kills time at least
'It is mandatory to complete your working hours,' we got the direction a week ago
'Fuck that,' to that I said
it is difficult to make grown men understand the new,
effective ways of working faster
I turn off the fan when I feel cold
and then turn it on again when the heat rises
the process repeats multiple times throughout the day
people in useless masks are roaming all around,
their temples, mosques, churches remain closed
they do not know anymore if God is listening to them
I make a joke on the people dying
some laugh while others adjust their masks
outside it is too hot to walk during daytime
nights are cold 
the roads remain largely empty
the shops remain closed, locked behind shutters, eating dust
the fruit sellers are selling half rotten fruits, half rotten vegetables,
anything
every time I take a piss, I think of
going back to my home, sitting in my chair, doing nothing 
and being fine with it.

    © Copyright 2020 Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.