Started writing some short stories. I guess a short story book is coming next. How soon, I cannot say. I have few ideas and I am going wherever they take me. I do not plan much. Often, much planning isn’t required either. A little of it does the work. I guess it’s better to do and fail than do nothing at all. Failure might break you but you get far ahead of others in winning at this game called Life.
Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
Really glad to inform you that my second book of poetry, Red Room Bar, is now available for purchase in e-book format on Amazon Kindle store.
The book is a collection of 50 poems written in and around bars and pubs over the course of six years. All the poems are written in free verse style.
CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE YOUR COPY.
Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
What else about this evening? I am feeling better and that is all. Five days in isolation. Five more to go. The virus is a real bastard. Outside, days and nights roll away. Who really needs my permission or my advice? No one. With me locked in a room, the world went on fine. That is what I am and that is what you are. A nobody. Anybody can do what I do. No job is impossible to do. Anybody can be replaced. That’s the truth of an ordinary life. It keeps repeating wherever you look.
Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
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I haven’t taken a bath
it’s been two days
exorcise me from my ill ways
my skin is some dirty rag
burn it in bonfire
roll my ashes and smoke
but be careful,
hide under a cloak
my teeth they have yellowed
from too much drinking
too much sitting
and too much thinking
my nails they have grown
taller than eucalyptus
hold them by your hands
run over them a bus
my hair
my hair
oh they are already gone
I sold them to a king
without a throne
I wait for the evening
to bring to this world some light
and some water
for this poor man’s delight.
Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
last night I drank too much
mixed beer and wine
and I drank from midnight
till morning nine
I thought if anything was real
or that all was fake
and really, how much could I take
I went to the sea
and drowned myself there
the sea picked me up
and spat me out and said
‘You can’t die here,’
I crawled out of there
and sat at the shore
and thought of nothing more
but something is there
in the waves that break
and they got me thinking
because really, how much could I take
got myself a harmonica
but I never play
whether it’s frozen November
or burning May
got myself a piano
when I was a kid
which soon my mother hid
got myself a mountain
and at it’s foot, a big big lake
because I had to see
how much could I take.
Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
red wine
rooftop
on a saturday night
when the winds are still blowing
and they are blowing so well
a man once told me,
‘There’s nothing in wine!’
few years ago, he was a junkie
he could finish a whole bottle of whiskey
without water
now he is married and has got a son
who, last week, had bad diarrhoea
and was in hospital for two days
and when someone gets married,
you cannot really say anything
about them
often, they can’t say anything about
themselves
‘Life changed after I left college,’
that’s all he told me
and I never, never ask anybody,
whoever he is,
about his life
I have seen him often
smoking alone
and chewing cheap tobacco
‘I cannot live without tobacco
in my mouth,’ he says
I have seen in him the glimpse
of a junkie on more than
one occasion.
Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
daddy came to me and asked
if I can stay longer
how longer, I asked
the noose around my neck was getting stronger
his voice quivered and was quickly gone
when I threw on him a shoe
I remembered his voice as I wrote
the rooftop blues
.
mommy came to me later
and asked if everything was fine
I opened my mouth and told her
that it was already nine
and why would she come to me
at night so late
she could have come to me before eight
I looked away and sent her to hell
and I sat like a lonely fool
and wrote the rooftop blues
.
it took all my blood to climb this up
where only the empty bottles linger
and not a single hot cup
it took all my bones to form one full man
and a thousand nights of songs
to write what nobody can
but where the hell
where the hell
am I going, I got not clue
so I sat down one evening
and wrote the rooftop blues.
Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
the naked man walks up the stairs
there’s nothing much about which he cares
and he is going on and on
the naked man has been here for long
.
he sits every night atop his roof
and listens to the animals bark and woof
he stuffs his ears with cotton
and hides his eyes behind sandpaper
and if anybody comes knocking
the naked man pays no attention
and puts it for later
.
he kisses the wind and
rolls back his head
like he is satisfied and already dead
he opens his eyes and looks at the stars
the little stones burning afar
he rubs his eyes and then rubs his skin
and he opens his throat
like the naked man is finally gonna sing.
Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
switched on the bulb but nothing
no electricity since morning
sat on the front porch
got Dylan singing again
Ballads of a Thin Man
Sara Sara o Sara
Hard rain’s A gonna Fall
the thin man is back again
I pull out an imaginary cigar from one pocket
and a revolver from another
I shoot myself first and then,
I shoot that strange bird
perched on an electric wire
and I miss the shot and the bird
flies off to a tall tree with curly hairs
but it doesn’t matter
it doesn’t matter
I am dead already
but the bird is still there,
talking bogus to the still winds.
Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
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