Tomic Riter

Tag: writing

  • All this dryness and you.

    The Big Dipper is right there where it was yesterday. A full spin has completed and that, among everything else, is still right there. Hanging. Swinging. Laughing at me from far. Laughing at my tiny miseries. Shining like a monster. Lifeless winning over Life. I am a mad man listening to Beethoven. His Sonata 14 is crushing my heart as I listen to it. I have no feelings in the manner in which you have them. Usually, I have no feelings. In this night, I am half on fire for no reason. I am looking at things and finding no pleasure in them. I am half on fire for you. Sweating at places. I am looking at things and the brightness that they are trying to emit and how fast all of that brightness is getting sucked by this nothingness, by you not being here. Where are you. I wonder that. Where are you. My single wondering for tonight. Where are you. Where are you. I have an idea but I do not know.

    © Copyright 2020 Tomic Riter. All rights reserved

  • Why all this and how many times.

    Wheels on a street. Wheels of a boy knight. Wheels cracking like firecrackers on this steamy street. He is a warrior getting beaten by his mother. He is getting beaten by a mother on a warm evening. A mother is beating him like he should not be beaten. It is a warm evening, an evening without any pleasantness, and the boy is getting beaten. He deserves a better treatment but look at him. Better, look at his mother and her hardwork. She is tired but she continues. On this warm evening which is nothing much, an unnecessary act of mild violence is getting committed. In the middle of that act, he flees. He is gone while his mother’s hands keep beating the air. He is gone on his round wheels, that boy. Gone. Gone with other rascals. He is around the corner and he turns away and he is gone.

    © Copyright 2020 Tomic Riter. All rights reserved

  • What have you made me look like.

    what am I to you
    a toy maybe
    I fall on you and you hit me,
    hit me and in the other direction
    I go
    my scalp is bruised
    my arms bruised
    I fall on you again
    and my bruises touch you again,
    and sooner than I can think,
    I am rushing in the other direction
    again
    my bruises are deepening
    while you are laughing
    while I am falling on you
    again
    and again
    what am I to you
    your last joy
    before you become of this darkness
    I am rolling on mud
    I have fallen on mud,
    and now I am rolling on it
    and now I have stopped rolling
    but where are you.

    © Copyright 2020 Tomic Riter. All rights reserved

  • Out of no fucking where.

    an evening with its stars
    and all that hanging up
    and all this lying carelessly on
    these streets and these roads
    shimmering lights miles away
    or is it my eyeballs cracking
    imagining in turmoil what is quiet
    I listen to the gibberish of an asshole
    whom I have never talked to
    whom I have never seen
    he is talking without stopping
    nothing stopping his talking
    not these serene winds
    or this clear sky
    or this old corpse of a lady
    sitting next to him
    eating stones
    nothing stopping him
    I was talking to Dostoyevsky
    it was a talk going all fine
    and then that asshole jumped right
    in the middle of it
    in the middle of this evening
    that was going all fine
    before that asshole
    decide to open his mouth
    and then decided
    to never close it
    and now all that
    which was going all fine
    I wait for its return.

    © Copyright 2020 Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

    A QUICK UPDATE ON THE BOOK

    Finished the first round of editing. I thought it would take a week, and a week is what it took, so that’s good. Second round of editing, I plan to start soon. That’s all for now. I thank you for hanging around and reading my words.

    – tomic riter

  • Poem number Fourteen was fun.

    Almost halfway through the first round of editing my first book of poems. My nameless book of first poems. I have come to realise that editing is more than proper punctuation and correction of silly grammar errors. And I am glad that I have realised this through my own experience and not via a dumb guidance book. I thought that editing phase would be phase of frustration, of getting shit done quickly, anxiously. I guess that is a general perception on editing. I have found the editing phase to be quite interesting, immersive, much more immersive than the times of first drafting. It is like I am polluting my poems in my own way. I enjoy doing that. A windy evening is what it is right now. Soon the insects come to bite me. I hope they die on their way to me because the wind here is just too good for me to be anywhere else in this moment. I want to savour these winds while they are still blowing.

    © Copyright 2020 Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Everything shaking.

    a slit in the sky
    orange bleeding over the hills
    crows burst and scatter in the air
    oh the howling growling wind!
    and a dear dog rolling in ecstasy,
    biting his body
    stretching his body
    sniffing the dirt
    for that good moment.

    © Copyright 2020 Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • The needed push.

    Started editing the first draft of my first books of poems. Still untitled. It is painful to read one’s own poems again and again, but I like how they are growing, whichever ones can grow. That’s the joyful part of it, the only joyful part of it. There’s always more to add. I will go on until I can’t anymore. That will be a good time to stop. I will know when that time comes. As of now, I am still sitting outside, under a clear starry sky. It is almost midnight. The wind is amazing, refreshing. The trees half asleep, few more men sitting outside, outside but far away from me. Everything in this moment is beautiful. I am glad I could witness this beauty.

    © Copyright 2020 Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Dim.

    sun falls and burns away
    at the end of the day
    wind rustles and turns cold
    by its tail I hold
    as I keep going on my way.

    © Copyright 2020 Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Finally somewhere.

    Managed to finish the first draft of my first book of poems. The final result, I guess, will take some time. More updates on the book in the coming weeks. Things are going good for now. The book is still untitled. Other than that, the days are going fine. Quite a lot of writing is happening these days. Less work at the workplace, which is really a blessing. The shops are slowly running out of stock. The very essential stuff is available though. I can live with that, maybe even without that. I am in dire need of a thing or two, but I guess the shops selling those things won’t be opening anytime soon. Yesternight was quite windy but tonight is just quiet. Cold and quiet. I guess that’s it. I better fuck off and eat something.

    © Copyright 2020 Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • It has to happen.

    walking inside
    walking away from sky and wind
    a quarter of a night has passed
    the remaining is to be endured.

    © Copyright 2020 Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.