Tomic Riter

Tag: poet

  • Understanding Your Feelings: A Path to Emotional Clarity

    Understanding Your Feelings: A Path to Emotional Clarity

    I wasn’t too busy. In fact, I had ample time to write something every evening. No, I wasn’t busy. I just have this strange feeling. I feel as if I am starving for something I cannot put into words. I feel like I haven’t felt anything in quite some time. This isn’t about love. No. This is something else. I could blame my boring day job for this feeling. But blaming doesn’t help me in any way. I don’t want to dwell on who to blame and how much to blame. I want to understand this feeling and it’s not easy. I don’t know where to begin to understand this feeling. It has been with me for so long now, like a shadow. I want to understand this feeling and I want to feel better. I want to feel good. Is that too much to ask for in today’s world? To feel good?

    – Tomic

  • Another day: A Poem

    Another day: A Poem

    today,
    nobody came to fight at work
    nobody complained about anything
    no loud noises
    no arguments
    nobody talked to anybody
    nobody ate or drank
    nobody sang songs
    nobody danced in the dark
    nobody hated anybody
    nobody loved
    I came home with nothing
    another day
    nothing happened
    nothing at all.

    Copyright ©Tomic. All rights reserved,
  • Long Week and the Need for a Vacation: Weekly post

    Long Week and the Need for a Vacation: Weekly post

    Today is Monday. For a moment I thought it’s wednesday. Damn. This one’s going to be a long long week. The good part is that I work for only four out of six days. I need a really long vacation away from here. I need a new place with new faces around me. No work. Just slow hours passing slowly. Me having a few drinks in the evening until time to get in warm bed and sleep. Much is happening in the world. Much more happening with me. I’m burdened beyond anything. I don’t know where my days are going. Damn. Eight months are almost over. I’ve done nothing. Nothing. Now, listening to Cohen. I love his voice and his poetry. He was a solid man.

    Today is Sunday. Night already. I thought I’d write something here every day. I failed. I hadn’t much time in this week. I did manage to write more regularly. I travelled but not too far from home. I had two short trips. I’ve started giving more time to photography as well. I’m cutting down on my drinking habits. I’ve stopped smoking cigarettes. September is soon. By October, I would love to bring my life back on fast track. Now, listening to Dylan. His voice takes me to a place that’s peaceful.

    – Tomic

  • Reflections on Non-Eventful Days

    Reflections on Non-Eventful Days

    Hadn’t much to write about yesterday. I worked until late evening, and later, got drunk. Fell asleep. This morning, woke up early. Talked to god for sometime. Took bath. Got dressed and went out for a couple of hours. Couldn’t find anything good to eat. Drove back home. Got in my bed and slept again. Woke up in the evening. Got dressed and stepped out to eat. Looked at the sky. How couldn’t I. The sky was bright orange after a really long time. Took some pictures. I got on my motorcycle and drove to this cafe. Had warm bread with butter. Hot coffee. I paid and drove around the town for some time and then back home. Even when nothing is happening, something is happening.

    – Tomic

  • In the sky tonight: A poem

    In the sky tonight: A poem

    in the sky tonight
    moon is round and bright
    too round
    too bright
    the witches on earth
    looking up at it
    with hair open and clothes off
    and eyes wide
    and asses swaying
    as if summoning the electric current
    unbelievable!

    Copyright ©Tomic. All rights reserved.

  • I feel better: A Poem

    I feel better: A Poem

    how beautifully fingers press 
    the piano keys
    black white black white white white
    white white black black white black
    black black black black white
    white white white black white
    or in some other pattern
    no clue but
    a pattern and then another
    another and
    nothing is random 
    nothing is chaos
    here's another one by the fabulous Paterlini
    something that the ears do not believe in
    when they hear
    and when they hear, they melt eyes
    and resurrect this stone heart
    I feel better.

    Copyright ©Tomic. All rights reserved.
  • Finding Inspiration: Lessons from 9 Years of Writing

    Finding Inspiration: Lessons from 9 Years of Writing

    Each night, as I sit to write, something always comes out. Isn’t that strange. I’ve never not been able to write so far. There’s always something to write.

    The year was 2017 and now it’s 2026. I’ve been writing regularly for nine years now. On and off. Mostly on though. I’ve got two published poetry books. Besides that, more than thousand poems scattered here and there. And still, as I sit to type, something always comes out on the paper. I find it quite strange.

    Sometimes I wonder from where all of this comes, the things that I write. Personal experiences of course. But it isn’t just that. I believe one must get out there and put himself in all kinds of situations. It demands certain courage and not just that. It demands a certain level of madness too. Were I not a bit mad, I’d just stay indoors and eat and sleep and one day, die. But I don’t want that. I want conversations, experiences, challenges. I want to earn a good long sleep.

    But not each day goes in the way in which I want it to go. Most days are spent doing slave work. It hurts. Hurts a lot! But such is the situation sometimes. One’s got to do stuff to get money so that one may live a little of the life that one wants to live. And one does all of this while getting hurt. Absurd but true. Life is absurd. Is it so difficult to live the kind of life that one wants to live everyday?

    I don’t know. I cannot say much about that. I believe that life is to be lived well, and it is to be lived so despite failures and successes.

    But why am I suddenly talking about life. I was talking about my writing journey and suddenly I started talking about life. I think that such is life. It seeps into everything, into all the aspects. Life is one and whole and should be lived so.

    – Tomic

  • Rum down: A poem

    Rum down: A poem

    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.
  • Ramblings: Man alone

    Ramblings: Man alone

    Man is burdened with work. He is alone and sick. He cannot share anything with anybody. Nobody to share things with. He is just so alone and so sad. Each evening, he waits for the work to get over so that he can go home and be alone for the rest of night. He can go anywhere at night, be anyone at night. But he is just too tired. He doesn’t want anything. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone. He doesn’t want good wishes or consolations or motivation. He wants his bed and he wants some rest. His spine aches, his mouth runs dry, his eyes are hurting all the time. He knows that the morning isn’t far. It’s on the way and like a demon, it’s coming right at him. He doesn’t want to think about the morning and about work. He hates work. He wants to give up and run away to some strange land and live on bare minimum. He wants to spend time in divine company. He is tired of running and hurting. He wants to take everything slow. He is waiting. Waiting. Waiting. He is waiting for the right time to leave everything behind. How would he know that the right time has come? How? I’ve got no clue. I’m as lost as he is, probably more.

    – Tomic

  • Takes a lot: A poem

    Takes a lot: A poem

    takes a lot to wash away the night from my face
    takes a lot to wash away the memories from my eyes
    takes a lot to let a severe pain sink
    takes a lot to walk again sometimes
    take a lot to clean the dirt off my skin and my mind
    takes a lot to getting used to nightmares each night
    takes a lot to fail repeatedly and blame nobody
    takes a lot to have nothing and not complain
    takes a lot to be utterly broke and be happy
    takes a lot to sacrifice what’s most dearest
    takes a lot to be alone and not lonely
    takes a lot of years and lives to completely forget the scars
    takes a lot sometimes to keep blood red and moving inside the veins
    takes a lot
    a lot
    a lot
    and sometimes even more.

    Copyright ©Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.