Gaza

A piece of this world left-out
like a morsel of flesh diseased, cut out
when really what is poisoned
is the entirety of the carcass.

_____________________________________________________________________

Note: The 'flesh', the land, the Gaza strip, perceived as the 'disease', the people (Palestinians) by the Israelis, who set to banish these people from their homes, to 'cut' them 'out'. The rest of the world, the 'entirety', just watching, 'poisoned' as we are by trivialities. Indulgent and ignorant, as the 'carcass' of Humanity rottens.

If it were our country's plight won't we want help?

#Gazaunderattack

#prayforGaza

Nonpareil

The hour is nigh
the silence after your leaving
has seeped into my bones
           and now, I am fading.
None is waiting in the vestibule,
the silence has now aged
so much so that it has perfumed.
         
This is not godless penury,
I am past that.
Nothing but a drawn out valediction
fashioned with masochistic zeal
by my anima to whom,
you shall remain, stand-alone.

Dear Star III

How do I begin my November?
With kisses for the young leaves
and curtsies for the flowers.

To the gallant wind I throw my woes
To my heavy sighs I bid goodbyes
To the Star whom I loved from afar,
I greet you too
               — as I always do.

Dear Star II

Are you listening?
When the day dies

I turn away from the window

yet I know it is now darker
where you used to shine
never lovelier
when you used to shine,
        The sky grieves your leaving.

.

At the tip of the tongue

an utterance that the heart desires

yet the mind suppress

so it sojourns in your red throat

poised, in waiting,

growing toxic by the minute

until finally the ego swallowed.

                     This is war.

anti-social III

Is it wrong that I am not compelled to feel governed by others? People at large do not concern me. I concern myself with things that interest me and the few people that inhabit my world. I am governed by the select few. I am inconsequential at best. Rest assured though that the depth of feeling I harbour for each and every one of my people is something I always feel is incomprehensible to even them. 

I am Rimbaud in my heart. Trying to take-off but of course my lack of talent / fortitude that accompanies the rage of a genius hampers me. 'The 'true' poet is a seer.' - wrote 16 year old Rimbaud in one of his letters. I am the roots of a chopped down tree. I need time.

.

Witness then,

the fleshing out of this pain

the coming of my black rain

witness my undoing.

Come madness, come sadness

let the howling symphony begin

let the nightmares come

and swallow me entire.

I stage my unmooring

  upon the night Sky.

"Love you as ever" - D.M.

Got to run but this is as good a time as any to jot down a few lines. Sometimes I feel it in my bones that someday, God-willing, I'll become a decent poet or a writer of some sort. Right now though it feels as if I'm at the edge of something. Perhaps because now, I'm sober (artistically speaking I mean) I feel like I can put anything into prose. Anything at all.

Because finally, the last vestiges of that silken black veil has been carried off with the winds. I can be objective about my artistic endeavours and not feel shackled (as amateur poet-wannabes like me often do) by their subjects. 

So, to write once more. Hello, hello, October.