Tomic Riter

Tag: poem

  • From Rain to Restaurant: A Night Out in the Downpour

    that day, I had drenched in rain twice already
    the damned rain
    I was sick of it
    give me desert
    throw me in the hot sands of Thar
    I was saying all this to myself
    rather, I was screaming 
    but the sky doesn't hear
    the sky is deaf and stupid
    and it won't stop crying until it's done
    tired of getting drenched, I stopped at
    a friend's shop late evening 
    and sat for a while
    'Nothing seems to be working out'
    said my friend to me while we sat and talked
    'Seems so' I replied
    he ordered coffee, a cup, just one
    the coffee came soon and I drank it
    it was still raining
    soon, a car arrived and my friend hopped in
    and they drove away, all four of them
    who they were, I had no idea
    I waited for a couple of minutes
    outside the shop in total darnkess
    it was still raining
    I said screw it and got on my motorcycle
    I drove to my favorite restaurant in town,
    a small one where not many came at night
    I sat, there was no electricity
    it was still raining
    'Eggs?' I asked the owner
    'Only chicken and fish tonight' he replied
    'Fish' I said
    I put on my earphones
    classical piano
    I needed classical on such nights
    I closed my eyes for a minute and listened
    a voice called my name
    I opened eyes, saw a friend sitting
    opposite to me
    'Tired?' he asked
    'Tired of rain, yeah. I want it
    fucking gone now' I replied
    'Yeah it has kind of spoilt the mood' he said
    we talked a bit
    fish came soon
    looked superb as always, roasted 
    'Fish of smaller waters is tastier' he said
    'That's very true' I said
    I ate slowly
    took me an hour maybe more
    it was still raining outside
    we talked about Indian classical music
    while I chewed on the soft bones
    of the delicious fish
    soon, a bouncer-like figure walked in, sat,
    waited for his takeaway, took it, paid
    and left
    'He's the bodyguard of a don' said my friend
    'Looks like it' I said
    I finished eating, my friend got up and left
    where he went, I had no clue
    I paid the bill
    it was still raining
    'How do I withdraw cash from my account
    if I do not have a card?' the owner asked
    as I started leaving
    'Why do you think I know the answer.
    I do not' I said
    it was still raining
    I ran outside to my motorcycle, sat and drove 
    back to home.

    - Tomic

  • Emotional Poem: When the Sky Weeps

    no evidence of wings
    no trace of sunlight
    the sky is crying day and night
    waiting for a spark of fire
    eyes closed, knees bent, heart broken
    I lay concentrated waiting to be diluted
    this isn't my tune
    this isn't my day
    this life isn't my life
    when will the sky stop crying
    no amount of consolation works
    no amount of thinking about it works
    when the sky weeps, I weep
    I'm so old and deserted
    my home weeps
    no weather can shatter me more
    the quiet outside doesn't last
    I comb my hair with the fingers
    of my right hand
    and die.

    - Tomic

  • Resilient Journey: Walking Home with a Fractured Thumb

    Resilient Journey: Walking Home with a Fractured Thumb

    Today was another bad day. I woke up very late with pain in my thumb. Somehow, I fractured it a few days ago. I was in another town and one rainy morning, I slipped and fell on my ass while I was strolling downhill. A couple of folks gathered around me and helped me in getting up.

    ‘You ok man? Did you hurt yourself?’ asked a folk.

    ‘Oh I’m ok. I’m ok. Nothing serious. I think I can walk fine’ I replied as I stood up and brushed the dust and wet mud off my joggers and t-shirt with my palms.

    I was wrong of course. It did hurt when I started to walk but I kept walking quietly. I didn’t ask for help. Generally, I ask for help only when the situation is dire. I have got endurance like no one else. I can take any kind of hurt now. I can observe my own pain and not feel stressed about it. So I kept walking and after walking for an hour, I reached home.

    Upon reaching home, as I got into cold shower, it began to hurt in more places. As I dried myself with a towel, I felt my right leg hurting from top to down. As I lay down in my bed for some time, I could feel the pain sedate me. When my eyes opened up a couple of hours later, I couldn’t manage to even sit on the bed. I got down the bed somehow, and despite all the hurting, I got dressed and went on another stroll uphill.

    The next morning, the pain was excruciating and I decided to go on a short trek through the woods. When I reached the top of the hill, I had unbearable pain in my body but when I saw the view of the hills and the incessant rain over the hills and the fog settling down on the whole city, I felt at ease. I sat there for three hours, doing nothing, witnessing the crazy rain wash everything. Then as the dusk came, I began my walk downhill. It was raining still. By then, my right palm was swollen. I guess I fell too hard on it.

    © Tomic. All rights reserved.

  • The things I remember – a reflection on self

    The things I remember – a reflection on self

    I remember walking uphill. I remember beautiful symphonies. I remember the taste of bad beer and bad wine. I remember taking a nap under the sky while I lay on a huge boulder with a valley of emptiness beneath me. I remember feeling no pain then. I remember crying in closed rooms and then walking out of them without a trace of sadness on my face. I remember gulping down my anger. I remember feeling pissed off with the idiocy and hypocrisy of people everywhere. I remember waking up late every day, demotivated to go to work. I remember pain. I remember being in love. I remember my enemies well. I remember their hatred towards me. I remember being made fun of. I remember being nothing. I remember being a nobody. I remember this night when I get to writing once again.

    © Tomic. All rights reserved.

  • Just that and something of this.

    Nothing much on my mind. Nothing much has been on my mind. Just these thoughts that are nothing more than noise. It’s night. I’m sitting in my revolving chair. I’m looking out the window, stretching my neck out, trying to look at the city as much as I can. The city is getting wet again. It has less and less to offer me now. Moments ago, I was sitting on a bench downstairs, trying to catch a breath in the cool winds when a dog stopped near me. It looked at me for a good 20 seconds or so. Then it bolted away. You might be thinking now, ‘What’s so strange about that?’ I don’t know. The dog seemed to appear out of nowhere.

    Let’s say I weren’t here right now. I would be somewhere else. The truth is that I would be somewhere. It’s strange isn’t it. I am never nowhere although I would love to be nowhere. Being somewhere doesn’t put my mind to rest. No, I’m not greedy. But I do know by now and in a hard hard way that life is one. Why be scared of anything. Let’s take the risks we are afraid to take. Let’s kick away the hurdles. Let’s move ahead no matter what. One step at a time. Let’s move mountains. It is time.

    But I’ve talked about moving mountains before. Why am I talking about moving mountains now. Suddenly my fingers stop typing. I am taking a moment to think. What has suddenly made my fingers to stop typing. They were typing just fine and now they’re doing nothing. Simply nothing. I’m staring at the blank wall in front of me, lowering the volume on speakers a bit. Yes, it’s perfect now. I know nothing and the music isn’t loud. I can sit comfortably without having any kind of answers to any kind of questions and enjoy the music. The song changes. The song often changes right when you are getting lost in it.

    I’m looking at you. I’m looking at you again. I have this smile on my face and in my eyes that only you bring. I’m closing my eyes. I will stop right here.

    © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

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  • Time and again.

    At a friend’s shop, sitting on this chair with my legs stretched. Been sitting here with my legs stretched since about thirty minutes. The friend is nowhere to be seen. ‘He said he’ll be back in five minutes’ says the helper. ‘Sure’ I say to him and continue with the sitting.

    Yesterday, started reading this book by Murakami. Novelist as A Vocation. Finished 50 pages. The guy is a genius and a consistent performer. It takes something more than just talent to keep churning out novels even after 30 years. I don’t think I would be able to write consistently and get my works published for that long. I think I would give up everything in the next ten years. That’s how I feel now. Hell, I could give up tomorrow.

    What to have for dinner is a question that bugs me almost every night. I am tired of going to the same restaurant for dinner every other night. I am as much tired of going out for dinner as I am of ordering food from home. I need a change of setting. That’s what I need. I need a whole new city and a whole new role to play.

    The friend of mine did come later. We sat there in his shop and talked for about three hours. Two other friends joined us later. It’s a small shop with the perfect ceiling lights.

    It’s getting late by the minute. I cannot decide where I really want to be tonight. Sitting here on my couch at my home, I don’t feel like I want to be here right now.

    © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

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  • The little pleasures and me.

    Back home early from work. Oh the pleasure of coming home early from work, although there’s nothing much to do at home. The pleasure of sitting naked on the couch legs crossed or stretched out, putting on loud music, opening a can of beer, watching sunset from my bedroom, writing, reading a new book. It had been a long while since I gave time to myself.

    Work keeps me busy. There’s a lot to do. Sometimes, I got nothing going on my mind other than work stuff. I miss out even on writing. It is something that seldom happens with me. However less time I get for myself, I do not forget to write. Now, sipping beer and listening to some good old music. God’s gonna cut you down.

    On the writing front, been writing a fresh set of poems based loosely on my night experiences. The collection is still untitled. For now, I must get the writing done. The collection will be my third collection of poetry. A work of prose is already complete. It does need to be edited before I get it published. This year has been good so far. I mean there’s work stuff but it doesn’t bother me anymore. Got to live with that for now.

    It had been a while since I last wrote here. I keep forgetting this place. I have promised before that I would be writing here regularly but it hasn’t happened. I won’t make any such promises this time. Sometimes, circumstances are such that they keep me away from this place. But I’ve always loved this place. It means much to me that you, my reader, are here and you’re reading all of this. It’s just unbelievable. I have unbound respect for you.

    Damn! I didn’t even realise when my glass of beer got over. Need to pour another one. Need to get this evening going. Sometimes I wish I were in another city getting drunk on something that I haven’t gotten drunk on before. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe never.

    I think I should stop this one here. The sun is almost set. I hope you have been well all this while.

    © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

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  • Laws and backaches.

    That there’s a legal age for drinking and it varies from one country to another says a lot about how well we have our laws planned. In short, a man/woman breaking law in one country might not be doing so in some other country, and is, as a result, not punished in one country and punished for the same act in another country. How ridiculous is that. The society has always sucked, especially because of its senseless definitions of what’s acceptable and what’s not. Maybe man leading from forests to the civilisation was itself a mistake. Maybe none of this is sustainable and we have come to the point where we’re just tolerating each other’s bullshit and we have to keep doing that every fucking day because we see no other way. Everybody’s so scared of a little chaos, but the chaos is inevitable.

    It’s amusing how a thought turns to a paragraph. Something has been hurting my lower back since a week now. It’s like something is inside my skin and eating me from within, literally. However much I stretch, it isn’t getting better. It’s like the ache is spreading slowly, like an infection. Haven’t had a proper sleep in two days. Maybe all I need is one good sleep, and the ache will be gone. Maybe I need to walk more. Maybe I need to put my body to some use, and this ache is just the beginning of a rot.

    It’s a sunny day. A hundred miles have been covered between yesterday and today. This year is about adding miles to the whole experience. On other note, the house is in a complete disorder. Bottles everywhere, garbage, soiled clothes, dust. I don’t know where to begin. Maybe I’ll just lie down and try forgetting about it all one more time.

    – – Tomic Riter. © All rights reserved.

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  • Bare chests and second drafts.

    None of my lines have ever repeated, or maybe they have. How would I know. I never read my stuff again unless of course it’s for the purpose of editing. Otherwise, why would I read it again. I wouldn’t want to change anything about it other than, maybe, make a few minor structural and grammatical corrections to it.

    Whatever I have written above, it’s all just lies, and whatever I’m writing next, be so kind as to not believe a word of it. The actual writing begins in the second draft. It’s where the existing paragraphs grow and new paragraphs get added. Writing the second draft is like finding little stories within the big story. It’s like asking oneself – between two lines, what else can fit and make sense, what else can complete the idea that I intend to put through. The intention is not to write more pages. It is to convey the idea as clearly as it should be conveyed.

    I haven’t much experience in the field of editing. So far, I have published only two books. But I have been through the process of publishing from beginning to end. It’s a joy in itself. But why, all of a sudden, I am sharing all of this.

    Maybe I’ve got nothing to do this morning. I’ve been running here and there since last two days. There hasn’t been a moment of complete rest until now. I have arrived in this moment stumbling all along. This morning, I am not drunk, well, not yet. And since I woke up, I haven’t heard a song either. I haven’t a single cloth on my body. It’s just complete silence around me. And now I’m having this urge to take a short road trip alone.

    I think I got to go somewhere right away.

    — Tomic Riter. © All rights reserved.

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  • Written in blood one evening.

    What would I tell the world if it asked me what happened today. What could I possibly tell. In fact, what could I tell the world about any of my days. It’s like everything is happening at once, and also nothing at all. There’s so much that when I sit down to write, I sometimes find nothing for a couple of paragraphs. It’s just two paragraphs of me trying to put down what happened. Sometimes, I fail to put it down in pages, not because I am unable to write, but because my head is just consumed with all sorts of things, and then there’s alcoholism. There’s also smoking now and then. There are many more things. Sometimes I feel I am running with a lot on my back. But whether or not I end up writing about what happened or didn’t happen, I always end up writing something. I have never found myself failing in that. What would I feel like if, one day, I fail in that. Shit. I can’t think about it right now.

    Now is the time to relax and take it very slowly. Now is the time to sip my drink slowly. Now is the time to take long drags off my cigarette, keep the smoke in my mouth for long as I can, and then, finally, at the very end of the act, exhale. A slow, very slow exhalation, and after I have exhaled, I look up at the ceiling like it’s not the ceiling but the sky itself, and I look at it like I’m trying hard to find a few stars there, trying to find some brightness there. I am drunk and in the lap of music. I have been in that state on most of my evenings.

    Right now, as I type, I am sitting with my back against the setting sun. My teeth are sour. My hair all messed up. My clothes are carrying the stench of a whole month gone bad. My drink is about to finish. The dizziness is building up all too slowly. There’s a song waiting to be played. It’s been there on my mind since I woke up this morning.

    – Tomic Riter. © All rights reserved.

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