Litter

In a room as big as the sky,

Crumpled papers are thrown.

The papers were born to fly,

But they were caught and torn.

The papers inscribed with hurt

Were sprayed with scent of shame.

Then they were scrambled in dirt

With a sole intention to defame.

The room was desperate to be free

From the litter that was cancerous.

But even a simple wish to unsee

The words of pain was hopeless.

It was neither morality nor hope

For the fire to ignite against vice.

But courage stood firm with a rope

To lash out at anything but nice.

The fire leaving no ashes in rage

Lighted the room with wisdom.

The hostility going on a rampage

Was vanquished with activism.

Notes

I don't want to spoil the subjective meaning of the readers, and I very much appreciate the variety of perspectives that this poem brings in. But to me, this work tries to reflect my deepest thoughts and emotions. The room here is my mind, heart and body. The papers are my feelings or emotions.

July 15, 2020

Clouds of Smoke

Clouds of Smoke

Getting lost in the clouds of smoke,

Forgetful of the imminent choke;

Mesmerized by its misty spirit,

She drowns in the fantasy of it.

Walking through the fog of ash,

Even through the litter of trash,

She enjoyed every step by foot

And smiled at the drizzling soot.

I am on the hilltop, she believed,

And felt more alive than relieved.

The smog had become her reality,

Fillng her lungs with congeniality.

It was the only one to be near her,

That promised to be with her forever.

This can be considered as a sequel to Puffs of Smoke.

July 10, 2020

Puffs of Smoke

Puffs of Smoke

Lost and confused, I light a joint;

Minding over matter with no point.

With the first suck of distress,

The poignant past is triggered.

Unsheathing the dagger of bitterness,

It is jabbed until the pain is heard.

The fume is held long enough

Ignoring the shortness of breath.

Then it is whispered out in despair

With well-timed rings of death.

The second smoke is breathed in

For the sake of temporary relief.

With the cuts driving deep within,

The hapless mind is in disbelief.

The final gush of smoke is inhaled

Wishing for a tiny bit of solace.

But the heartbeats are overburdened

By the poisonous vapors of disgrace.

For the end of ageless torment to begin

The soul concedes to depart from the skin.

July 9, 2020