Deodate

Deodate

Thursday, February 22, 2024

A Little Too Much


Once I met this distant
Relative on a bus.
It was the casual awkward avoidance
Accompanied by the 'No way
Not to notice' thing.
"Hey, I heard you were in the town."
I noded in affirmation with
The best smile I could bring up.
"I heard you are only a visitor here now.
I heard you moved out in June.
Selfish people could care less
About one's whereabouts,
But how do you manage?"
As questions were rhetoric,
I was the listener.
"I heard you had meningitis last month.
Good that you have recovered.
I had heard from a friend
Of mine that his friend
Once had meningitis.
Poor lad thought it was
All better, only to find
Himself dead one morning.
I heard you got a promotion too.
You know, good news travels fast.
I heard you are going
Sydney next month.
Isn't it cold in there now?"
I had to get down at the next stop,
Without a word of courtesy
Would be unfair I thought.
"Oh dear! Don't you think
You hear a little too much."

Friday, February 9, 2024

Original Grief


Obliged to this night ride
Pouring out my agony
Aren't we the stardusts?
Who gave us emotions?
Why are these tiny atoms
Alive and feeling the whole lot
They could never afford?
Aren't we the stardusts?
All that wrap around me,
Mock at my mediocre matters.
The concealed face emoji tells
Almost the default state for long.
The nature, culture and future
Conspire against my wills.
The wind whistles to my wheezing,
The sun shuts down my eyes,
The rain might have been nice
But doesn't bother to approach
Unless I wear my white shoes.
Yet I pamper my brief case.
It isn't unprecedented,
Nor unanticipated.
But genuinely original grief
In my own manifestations.
Never have I ever thought
I would ever be alone in this ride.

Tuesday, December 12, 2023

Red



The sand, the sun and the waves
Seem similar yet disoriented each time.
That reddened sun looks so familiar;
As though the new born
Turning red with her first cry,
As though the face of a reluctant lad
Unwilling to go home as the sun sets,
As though the cheeks of a teenage girl
With butterflies and blushes,
As though the fury in a woman's eyes
Running her unsettling errands,
As though the red spots in a bed ridden granny's
Pale skin that marks her still alive.
How did I just picture a whole life
In the setting sun vanishing at the horizon?

Wednesday, July 26, 2023

Is this a Painting?


He looked at her
As though she was a painting.
He wondered at her brown eyes.
They shyly shifted their gaze.
He admired her blushed cheeks.
He dreamed over her curves.
He wished he could untie
Her beautiful imprisoned hair.
He longed for her trembling lips.
He gandered at her sensous gasps.
He looked at her
As though she was a painting.

She was nervous standing alone,
Intolerable with his lustful gaze.
She felt uncomfortable
In her own body,
Threatened in her new dear dress,
Unsafe on her own land,
Unbearable with her raising heart,
Terrified with the histories.
She wasn't a painting.
She was a soul embodied.
Yet she couldn't stop him
As though she was a painting.

Wednesday, June 21, 2023

The Gardener



Your Highness! Accept these flowers
From your humble subject.
Those are the hand-picked cherry flowers.
The scent of it will take you to heavens.
 
Pleasure’s mine to serve you
And this kingdom. I am the gardener.
Make me the king!
That should end all our agony.
 
Adore yourself with patience
And hear me before you command.
I am the gardener who knows
The bloodless battles you fought.
 
The rarest wild Taisies at
The garden’s northest end
Have the juice that slowly poisons
One’s head and one’s senses.
 
When the generous king from Etheraile
Signed his land in your name,
Who do you think harvested
The whole lot of taisies in one eve?

The long-wired beans that grow
In summer shuts down one’s liver.
With no symptoms for two happy days,
One’s lively body faints to death.
 
When the reluctant king of Midwestland
Turned down your offer and was
Laid down in the coffin the second day,
Who do you think picked the ripened beans?
 
But the cherry flowers are soft and decent.
They give you their fantastic fragrance,
And choke you to death giving you
A few moments to utter your last words.
 
So don’t you think I know too much?
Make me the king and I shall
Give you a great funeral.
Drinking water will not save you.

That was the end of an era
For our kingdom and the land’s histories.
With all due respect I take this Crown.
Indeed his highness deserves a great funeral.

Thursday, January 5, 2023

To the Housefly I killed


Today I killed you.
And I add that in my portfolio.
For you aren’t an easy target.
You’re swift and dynamic.
And I am proud I killed you.
Why? You sat on my food.
Where else you had been?
In dirt and decayed?
You go on the ripe and the rotten,
On the food and the feces alike.
You may haven’t suck my blood,
Nor you have bitten me hard.
But you spoiled my needs,
You soiled my dreams,
So I killed you.
You did hurt me.
You took away
What I needed the most
When I wanted it so badly.
So I killed you.
You aren’t the romantic “fly”
As you had been for Blake.
You’re the nuisance.
You and your tiny maggots
Are disgusting in my eyes.
So I killed you.
You ruptured my rapture.
You forcefully withdrew my plate.
You left my hedonic hunger unfed.
So I killed you
And you’re the crime
I do not regret.

Wednesday, November 2, 2022

The Wolf



I am the wolf masked as sheep.
I know I am the disguised demon
In this group of my real innocent preys.
Last day, that black lamb cut his cheek
From the sharp grass at the meadow's edge.
The scent of the blood drove me insane.
I could bite off him to death,
Savour the still warm flesh,
Chew the juicy young meat,
And swallow the whole into my belly.
Ah! I had come here for that
Happy suppers I could relish.
I know I am the disguised demon
And my mouth waters with mere thoughts.
But I found myself nursing his wound.
He called me "Mommy"
And that I looked like her.
I denied, ignored but gave up at his tantrums.
Oh Lord! This tiny creature, I doubt, 
Has stolen my courage.
I know I am the disguised demon
But this mask distracts me.