twilight wind carries everywhere
birdsongs
trees are hanging from the sky
penetrating these walls
their roots rising from my fingertips
I could have sipped all this dirty water
that was clean before it fell down
sometimes, traveling miles gives nothing
other than vast green fields and no talks
birdsongs die and gold washes away
from the sky.
Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
The clouds seem unreachable, but are they? With this thought, I continue to look at them as they change colours and form and positions, as I change my own position and strive to become formless. I close my eyes, sometimes that enables me to listen to my own breath and feel how it empties me and fills me in no time, again and again. It doesn’t get tired like I do. The sunlight makes me dizzy. Only if the sun hung like this for an hour and kept shining on me like it does right now. But that won’t be happening. Night will come and I wonder what I will be doing then.
Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
A couple of hours before midnight, the guitars started plucking their own strings. A man was singing from somewhere deep down in his stomach. Following him, another voice rose and it was that of a woman. I had returned home from a long, pointless drill. Soon after that, the man ran away and the woman changed and so did her voice. The guitars broke and got replaced with drums and echoes. I made myself a bowl of hot soup and drank half and threw the rest of it. I ate something that I cannot remember now. However much I worked on it, I just couldn’t keep the insects out for long. They always found a way. They danced around me, sat on my hands, sipped my blood. They were leading better, more peaceful lives than I. The home looked fresh but only for a couple of days. After that, I always forgot and I didn’t care about how it looked. Another man started singing, and this time, he had a banjo sticking out of his windpipe. After a minute of hearing, any song became old.
Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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