Musings / Friday, May 12th, 2017

I don’t consider myself a writer of poems. I used to write a lot of poems when words failed me and all I could be was to angrily scribble thoughts that sprawl into insensible metre. This was the next find in my Gmail Drafts. Unfortunately, Google re-saved it before I could check the date. So I will never know what made me write this angry poem. I know it must have been before 2010 as I haven’t written any poems this decade. I have no title for this poem as I never used to title any of the poems I used to write.

*Warning: Profanity alert.

Massacre our lives’ deepest egos

The suffering trembles

Of pained pasts

The withering chaos

Of everyday dust

Shoved in your face till you scream

Shout and rave and torpedo

Into a flying ball of scars


People can fuck us

People can murder us

People can throttle

The last drops

Of every soul that exists deepest in the heart of our scream

But throttle that scream

Strangle those desires

Fuck those moves that make you feel like touching the rim of the earth

With your fingers and mind those steps

Into the sea of your fascination

Bottle those pains in the river of the sea

Float along into the gentle abyss

Live life like death

Care not till the people you care

Can care back till you fucking scream

Hoarse that your life is just the life that you

Fucking came here to live


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