rum first and then ice cubes
ice cubes first and then 90 ml of dark rum
nothing first and no cubes
a little fizz on the top
soda will do
or some carbonated drink
or some other sweet poison
I'm here
I'm not going anywhere
when have I ever gone?
make me a good drink
tickle me with a forgotten song
a memory
a something on and on
get me drunk
make me feel alive
and when I'm atop the highest summit
throw me down from there
punch me into my grave.
Copyright ©Tomic. All rights reserved.
Tag: literature
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Rum down: A poem
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The rough start.
Almost one month into the year and I can already feel myself failing at my commitments to myself. The beginning has been very rough and quite taxing. I’m slumping. Maybe I should go to the altar and confess all my sins even though it won’t change a thing. Maybe I should just stay quiet and keep doing my thing. Maybe I should run away from everything like the coward that I am. Maybe there’s a god for each one of us. Maybe it’s time to hit the bottom and begin from there anew.
– Tomic. All rights reserved.
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How hard is it really.
How hard is it to make two people talk. How hard could it be. How hard could the hardest of our problems really be. Do they have anything in them? Or maybe we just couldn’t talk about them. Why burden somebody with the weight of our own problems. Imagine a big circle, and anybody could come there and sit inside the circle and just talk about their problems. Sometimes, talking about the problems aloud helps to understand them in a better way. And without understanding our problems, how can solutions be found.
– Tomic. All rights reserved.
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Nausea.
Why do I wake up with this damned feeling. I can’t feel my wings. I know they are there. Why am I living with this damned feeling. I’m paying for my sins. There’s a cost to going mad and staying that way. I lay down and try to breathe. Something hollow is growing inside of me. A sinking feeling. I do not wish to fall sick again. I want to fly. Well, that’s far fetched. I want to feel good again. I want this curse lifted off of me. It’s been very long.
– Tomic. All rights reserved.
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Something of my own.
‘Don’t you want to share something of your own tonight? I mean everybody else is sharing something of their own. What about you?’
‘I don’t know. Share what?’ I replied.
‘Something that you might have written? I’ve heard that you write. Or you might sing a song for us.’
‘Oh no. No singing songs for me. I love listening to them, not singing them. As far as sharing something of what I have written, I can’t do it even if I want to. I don’t remember anything of what I have written. I write in the moment mostly’ I replied.
The man heard me, laid back and continued drinking. A minute later, he said, ‘The reason I asked you to share something is that I’ve been looking at you since quite some time and I think there’s pain in you and you might want to share it.’
‘Everybody is in pain. That’s not important’ I replied with a smile.
– Tomic. All rights reserved.
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Rain down.
I would like to remind you little bit of what I am. What am I. Let’s leave the question for a moment. Let’s focus on something else. On what? Let’s stop focusing on anything for a while. Let’s sit quietly for a while. Eyes closed. Breathing as normally as you can. Can you hear the faint noise of fresh rain? I can. The raindrops are falling and falling and falling, probably wetting everything. I want to walk out of my room and see. I refuse to walk out. I walk out. The rain has stopped now. I walk downstairs, stand there, watch the floor, now wet, reflecting bar lights. I look around. Drunkards everywhere getting in getting out. I scratch my beard and walk back upstairs and into my room.
– Tomic. All rights reserved.
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Waiting for the night.
Every morning, I wake up and start waiting for the night. All of day time is just time wasted. It hurts me but I cannot do anything much about it. That hurts too. It isn’t until late hours of night when I finally get to sit in my space. My very own space. A small room with a table and two chairs and a table lamp and a couch on which I fall at the very end until sleep comes. I put on some music, write a bit, read a bit, just lay down often. A pile of books is waiting to be read. I haven’t read much in the past couple of years. Yes, that’s right. It’s changing now. I’m reading again.
Yesterday, I read this beautiful line. ‘Illness shortens the distance between a man and a woman.’ The book is Snow Country by Yaaunari Kawabata, a Japanese writer. The line reminded me of my mother and father and an incident from a decade ago. I will write about the incident some other time.
Night is here. I’m sitting in my chair, typing. My back aches and so do my arms. I’ve forgotten to put on some music. Strange. There are still a couple of hours to kill before I throw myself on the couch.
– Tomic. All rightd reserved.
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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.
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