Tomic Riter

Tag: poem

  • Riding back home.

    I wanted to ride further on the road, but I decided to ride back home. On the way back, I found a vegetable seller lying dead under a sheet of cloth covered with fresh vegetables. He was lying on the left side of the road. I stopped there for a while. His boy was standing there, waiting for somebody to buy the remaining vegetables. They won’t last longer than a couple of days and after that the rotting will begin. No gut can digest rotten vegetables without consequences. I bought some vegetables from the boy and dropped money notes in his dead father’s open palms. For some reason, he seemed alive and while I was talking to his boy, I felt he could listen to me. I put the vegetables in my bag and rode off, and before that I smiled at the boy and he smiled back at me as he waited for another customer. Half the sky was clouded. It did not rain that day.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • On that stretch of road.

    three kilometres from here is a long, wide road

    made of cement

    it is not very long but long enough

    it is another world driving on that stretch of road

    the air is so pure, if I close my eyes I become calm in a second

    thousands cross that road each day but nobody stops on it

    and takes a moment to just breathe

    and listen to the nature’s song

    I go there sometimes

    what I fail to find here, I desire to find it there

    sometimes, the sunset is short.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • War music.

    I closed my eyes to feel the symphony

    Handel was playing so beautifully

    like a war was coming and men were readying themselves to spill their blood

    and that of others

    there is something in music that pulls me to it

    those were war days unlike yesterday and today

    today, man cannot die with a laughter on his face

    he is incapable of it

    his brain has filled with crap

    he is not here anymore; anyone who is not here

    has no chance at a good laughter.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • After a bottle.

    All the bitterness I can feel at the bottom of this bottle. There is no way I could have reached the bottom directly. If I could have, I would have thought about it. The journey was a couple of hours long. By the end of it, I was quite alone. Quite alone. In my experience, light begins to fade. That is a lie and a fact. You might wonder how is that possible. I would say that it is possible and it is happening right now as I type these words for you. Another bottle won’t do much harm. All the harm is already done. It is a slow, never ending mending of these bleeding gaps. I am incorrigible, damaged beyond repair. I wish to hit the bottom and die there. One last sip before I jump into the heartless chasm.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • The ache travels upward.

    An ant tries to find a way. A cleaning mop dries in the open. Three gigantic puffs of cloud are drifting west. Soon they will envelop the sun, and when they do, the sunrays won’t be able to reach me. On the street in front, a boy caught a bird, it is as flat as anything could be. No width, no height, no eyes. The boy is trying to make it fly. It is so light, so lifeless. The boy steps onto it as he waits for his friend. The three clouds have become one in no time. You cannot say which was which as they all flow together. The sky turned golden for five minutes. Now the light is getting pulled away from here, going down with the hot ball. A cloud burns red as the sun falls through it, making a hole in its stomach. When I look up, it looks like somebody crumpled the whole sky. As I decide to sit longer, all the movement as in now begins to cease.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Just writing.

    These days, I am writing my second book or what can become my second book. The words keep coming. Really, there’s nothing to writing once all fears are removed. Nothing is insignificant, or everything is. Once that is truly realised, there’s no stopping you.

    My first book ‘Dying in Living’ which is a poetry book is available to buy on Amazon, Kobo, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords and several e-book stores. If you are a PayPal user, you can buy the e-book directly from this website.

    CLICK HERE TO VISIT MY AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE.

    Thank you for being hearing and reading my words. Have a great weekend!

    – TOMIC RITER

  • While it aches.

    Half my body aches, but I am in no hurry in getting rid of the ache. There are things to do to propel this life through this night. What if I fail to do those things? Will I see the morning? The thought makes me stop doing everything. Outside, people come and go as another day vanishes from my life. When I think about it, a problem really never grows. It appears bigger inside my head. A week later, it will be nothing, whether I am dead or alive is entirely another matter. Man sticks a knife into another man’s flesh for certain reasons, most of which appear to be basic in nature. How much is he really guilty for wanting another kick in this joyless world. Outside, something is getting dragged, like it is a bundle of thin metal pipes. In this hour of night, where will they be taken to other than to some corner for mild rusting. But all of this is just what appears to be. On the fourth day, there’s an urge to break any routine that has built up. On fifth day, the routine gets broken. The reason behind all of it is forgotten. After living all this time, I can remember only so much.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • I returned before my time.

    There is an effort to compress time. Every man is under pressure, ready to burst on something. Nothing will be revealed except morals and puss.  Steam leaves a vessel inside an unknown room. Really, what is the use of a broomstick here, or of these night bulbs. Somewhere, an orphan cat is roaring. Going out of control scares me a little. Between me and Death, not much distance is left now. I am thinking about you as I comb my beard. The sun hasn’t shone since a week. All the roads are slowly disintegrating. There is always a problem that can kill a good sleep. If I open this window, is there anything to watch? The possibility of it alone can deliver a permanent shock to me. Impossible is not a limit. Some things exist beyond that, and I sometimes wonder what they might be. The idea is quite enticing. Walking down three flights of stairs could have been a holy act. But what if it is done everyday? What about simply opening a door? Or forgetting to wash your face or brush your teeth?

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Last night.

    Last night, I dreamed and that’s all I can remember now. I remember more than that but I cannot say if any of it is true. Alcohol seeped into my unconscious, awakened the subtle fears. I am not free but I know the path to freedom. Owing to laziness and unnecessary sleep, I lack the will to pursue that path. Buying alcohol gives more satisfaction than buying food, despite the idea being foolish. Another day of riding miles on empty roads that cut across the green swampy fields. I ride back and forth to memorise a landscape. Too far seems scary. Before I reach too far, I always run out of time and sunshine.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Riding on a wet road.

    It won’t be wise to ignore the obvious signs of danger. I am not as far from my destination as I think I am. Night awakens the noises that sleep throughout the day. Still, a night is better than a day. And the problem lies there, in my likeness for the night. Inebriated, I feel quite alert and brave. I can be a drunk orator. Even a drunk monk. Riding few miles on a dry road isn’t the same as riding the same few miles on a road clogged with rainwater. Dry road feels better and while riding if I die then the satisfaction will be far more than when I die on a wet road.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.