Why talk in beautiful verses when I am gifted with such a foul mouth? Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
Tag: poetry
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Why indeed.
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The trick.
the trick is to leave the poem alone, make it an orphan by choice the trick is to treat a poem like an open wound left to rot on some maniac's thighs held captive in a abandoned asylum and finally, you come around to it after days, maybe weeks or months or just a minute later and you put a full stop. Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
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Before cleanliness.
the ache continues for the fourth day waiting for the ice to turn to water so I can pour a bucketful over my dirty head and begin my day a sunny day, that's two sunny days in succession sometimes, life can't be more rewarding savour the sunny days while they last the clouds can gather around anytime and fuck you up or be a buffoon and ignore all of it - the clouds, the sunny days, this life outside, bird screeching continues I am starving already I feel like chopping my head off my ashtray sits like dead jackal on my table its many tails burnt, froth out of its many mouths its ass destroyed by swords it won't come alive again. Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
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This poem is just another lie.
another evening victim of the invisible hand this night won't be any brighter or colder but colder nights are coming coming colder nights are coming I am running out of songs to sing I have been left dry in the brutal sun for so long I could take my chances any night not tonight tonight, I am just a plain coward scratching the surfaces on which beautiful things grew this poem is just another lie I write truths only in paragraphs. Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
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Fortunate anyways.
the fruits of time ripen before time begin to rot I am a witness of the decay each evening I return home devil has laid its hands on my appendix and my bladder, ripping them out there's blood on devil's hands and pain in my eyes and painkilling pills clenched between my teeth it's an otherwise pleasant sunny morning my dining hall filled with putrid smell of garbage the places I have never been to, do they miss my presence? fortunate anyways. Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
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Distractions.
sitting with all this pain listening to a bitch sing like a bird an evening wasted on drinks and food and conversations with the ones gone nothing lasts long enough nothing lasts nothing waiting to board my bus to somewhere anywhere away from all this a new life awaits me I keep it waiting. Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
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Past nine.
waiting again the only task harder than waiting is to wait all over again it's like my life is jumping from one wait to the next I am a patient animal wounded but patient nothing in my wounds is personal I am a vagabond caught in the crossfire minutes fly out of my wretched life like bats high on helium as I savour, alone, all the ache in my spine. Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
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After dark.
alone immersed in after-dark thoughts time flew like bullets putting in me a thousand holes my blood out of me, down the staircase down the drainpipes seeping out through the door right into the tree-roots, into the buried filth I see rot all around sitting without a hair on me what monster will I be tomorrow morning? I have a whole night to dream about it. Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
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Another such night.
it was another of those nights when I did not know of my whereabouts another such night of intoxication I can do better, only I lack reason why do better when this isn't that bad what am I trying to forget what am I running from. Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
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Later in the evening.
woke up got up from the bed took a dump wore my shorts and my t-shirt drove out to the tea stall at the corner parked my bike, sat there on a plastic chair sat kept sitting while the old woman ruffled through the fresh stock of cookies and candies and whatever kept sitting and watching 'What do you want?' she asked she had to ask What do I want? an interesting question, but how will I know 'A cup of tea' I told her and while she walked inside to cook tea, I got up at once and drove back to my home. Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
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