Tomic Riter

Tag: author

  • No doubt about it.

    No doubt about it.

    No doubt the town is full of sluggish people. Nothing lets me down at work as much as sluggish people do. You can see them wasting time their time, and consequently, yours. You want to kill them but cannot. It’s frustrating at times. They’re getting paid for nothing. No doubt the world has too many sluggish people now, and no one can do a thing about it. Another one walks in. What the hell. Looks like a woman. Fucking hell. I wish I could scream right now. FUCKING HELL! Instead, I’m yawning, slipping down in my recliner, my head in my left palm. I hate a good meal. It makes me dizzy with sleep. I wish I fell asleep right now. I can’t. The work doesn’t seem to end. Too much work. Too much wastage of time and energy. It seems like something or the other has to be done about it. So I tell the woman to shut up and leave. It doesn’t work.

    – Tomic. All rights reserved.

    CLICK HERE TO VISIT MY AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE AND PURCHASE MY BOOKS

  • Nobody likes.

    Nobody likes.

    Nobody likes standing in a queue. Nobody likes to labour. Nobody likes to wait. Nobody likes to apologise for no reason. Nobody likes to remain stuck in boring goddamned living. Nobody likes drinking beer after whiskey. Nobody likes to work. Nobody likes boredom. Nobody likes to be stressed. Nobody likes work pressure. Nobody likes to give up on their ill-formed opinions. Nobody hates their opinions. Nobody hates their own stupid mindset. Nobody hates a glass of cold water in summer. Nobody hates lemonade or maybe mint juice. Nobody likes to hate and yet they do. Yet we do.

    – Tomic. All rights reserved.

    CLICK HERE TO VISIT MY AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE AND PURCHASE MY BOOKS

  • Waiting for it to end.

    Waiting for it to end.

    The liver seems to be missing. The bladder has doubled in size. The eyes can’t take in too much light. Darkness is my old friend. It really feels strange when I feel my breath. I am alive. Alive! I take a deep breath. I look at you sleeping with a severe headache, your head in my lap. Blues playing in the background. Call me the Breeze. I close my eyes, my palm caressing your forehead. It’s getting harder and harder to focus. I wish to lay down next to you, holding you in my arms, warm. There’s still some time. Night time is the only time I have for myself. What’s wrong with me! Why can’t I have just one dream. I want everything. I accomplish nothing. I’m just a cog turning endlessly in a giant machine. I’m just a slave. Night frees me. Night gives myself back to me. I didn’t realise when the song changed. It happens every time.

    – Tomic. All rights reserved.

    CLICK HERE TO VISIT MY AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE AND PURCHASE MY BOOKS

  • One from my goddamned desk.

    This one is a quick post from my mobile. That is something I never do. So if you’re reading on laptop or PC, apologies if it doesn’t look good. Also, about that, I do not give a shit. Ha ha ha.

    It’s been raining heavily since this morning. No electricity. No mobile connectivity. It all looks so bad when I look out the window. So bad and so wet and so dirty. That’s why I hate rain. It brings in more dirt than it washes away. At least that has been the case with me. Always. It would have looked better had I been on a holiday. But I am not.

    – Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • On my second book of poetry.

    The first draft is almost finished. It’s been two days. I haven’t stepped out except to have lunch. The days are getting hotter and hotter. No place to hide really. It’s night now. The temperature has suddenly dropped. Hyenas are crying, dogs are barking, men are sleeping. I close my eyes and try to remember a few incidents to write them down. I am sitting on the roof and it would have been quiet here and I could have remembered something were these wild dogs stopped barking. But if you go out at this hour and try to teach them some manners, they would bite off your leg or something and send you home crying. No doctor at this hour would care about your wounds. Anyways, the first draft is finishing soon. That’s all for now. Have a good time!

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

    Buy my maiden poetry book DYING IN LIVING by clicking here

  • 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.

  • After locking the door.

    I could drive all night. But I am too drunk. Too tired. Too slow to reach anywhere. I am even sick to some level, to what level, I cannot say. What to do with so much idle time. Where to go. No place on this earth, and I cannot escape its atmosphere. I am doomed to watch this star sprinkled sky over my head for the rest of my life. A vehicle approaches and passes by. What an event! Now, complete darkness. Complete silence. I feel like I am falling down, like my head is a million feet deep in some pit. Punch my eyes and they still won’t open. Kiss me right inside my mouth; that might effect something in me.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • 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.

  • Don’t hear the godmen singing.

    In deep night, godmen are singing hymns, shouting verses. God must be a deaf creature. But what to tell these men? You can tell God something, but you can’t tell these men. It’s so ridiculous to even think about telling them anything. You say a word to them and it’s already a joke, a waste of time. You only wish that they stopped shouting. I wish only that as of now. I can’t even tell where they are sitting. Everything is just so dark and chilled at this hour of night. Chilled is fine. I do not wish for a sun. I would rather wish for snow and plane crash. That would be something worth watching here – a jet coming down from sky right into my bungalow, putting me on fire first and then everything else, and while that happens, a snowfall to melt away my blood and tissues and make for a clean, fresh space.

    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.