Category Archives: free verse

Of music and dance and torture

They are there again, just like they were yesterday.

photo-of-break-dancing-san-francisco

As if that was all that mattered. Wonder when that’d be me! *sigh* (Oh, please just don’t die from your fall to the ground.) (Source: online, unknown)

 

See, my day has been just good

I manage to make a living and don’t complain

But these guys just want to make me cry

I have never done anything to hurt them

I patiently wait for a snake-child to cross

If ever our paths crossed

And I definitely never hurt fleas

But they do not let me be

They know what time I pass by every evening

On my way back from work

They see me lost in thought in some part of my mind

And with the other part looking all around me critically appraising my environment

Looking for new stimulation and absorbing the world around me

They see me all the while nodding my headphone-padded head to some beat

So they settle at that same spot, right on scene

Working up the steam on their acts and arts

Up to that moment when I walk by

They start with regular beats and moves

They know I never miss the wicked musical gears and sound system

They know I notice their eternally killing matching sleek black outfits

They know I am not be able to stop them

They then work their ways up

Throwing in increasingly complicated moves

With recklessness, as if he did not care about living till the next day..

With recklessness, as if he did not care about living till the next day..

Moves they don’t care that it will take aeons for me to learn

The choreographer stands near the mouth of the formation

Not part of the dance because he apparently has a higher purpose

Watching out closely for my every micro-expression

At how maddeningly his well-planned moves are being executed by the dancers

The rappers take the centre of the platform

With lines that could make a gentleman go bonkers

Reeling out rhymes that could make a poet dream

Of the age when poetry must have been born from rap

An age that he was not aware of

They build up steam steadily

And when they know I draw closer they increase the volume of the mixer

Or how else would it sound louder in my ears

They know it’s evening and the breeze will serve them well

Then they show moves that make them seem to be flying

They sway and slither and bounce and lock and pop and stomp

All with every movement of the easy breeze

They make me read meaning into every breath and hiss of the air

They obey the wind

The rappers’ lines carrying on the wind in a way that defied physics

I got distinction in physics

But for the beauty I saw all those years in school,

They seem like dirt compared to what these guys do with the wind

Moments I wish I were deaf

So I’d not hear the steady booms against my ear drums

Making me head shake subconsciously like one having a focal seizure

Never mind, the bass would still make my heart and viscera resonate

Or better still, I be blind

Then I would not see these wicked wizards and shape-shifters

Floating in the wind at times and other times sharply moving like electricity

Never mind, the thuds of their feet as they stomp would get to me somehow

Lecrae-Concert-3-use

See, there! That moment when he (in this case, Lecrae Moore) goes insane, as if possessed by something inhumanly. And the crowd goes lunatic…. (source: online, unknown

 

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That moment of mad paralyzing ecstasy… an experience to kill, or die, or live for…. (Source: online, unknown)

Then they watch for the climax

That moment

When a straight-faced calculating and sober-minded adult doctor suddenly bursts into tears

Because he cannot understand why they would taunt him

With such displays of artistic perfection

Don’t tease and call me “only human after all”

What am I to do

If you cut me I bleed

I am human

If you rap and move like that

I cry with longing and envy

Wishing I could be you,

Right there

In that moment

Wielding the greatest weapon you have over me now

Your mad love for the lines and moves

With that confidence and ease accompanying your ability to do them

That you know I can read very clearly all over you

In that moment

Right there

When a scientist who lives on and deals with facts and Pure and Undefiled Science

Is brought figuratively to his knees

Before a phenomenon he has no control over

As he literally quickens his heels

His eyes already leaking tears

 

It just is unfair!

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DRUMS

 

And let's all get high striking the innocent drums... (source: goodmanlivingwell)

[And let’s all get high striking the innocent drums… (source: goodmanlivingwell)]

The skin stretched taut
It then speaks of things beyond it

The artist grabs it with both arms
With the force of pleading
Strikes it across the face
He begs the drum to speak
The drum speaks then loftily
As if of its own accord
As if it had a choice
It cries out in a tune too high
The tighter the skin is stretched
The greater the pain it suffers
The louder and finer the cries
With masochistic ecstasy

We then hear these cries and are happy
We put the dance to our feet
And pride ourselves like connoisseurs
Of musical sadism
A primal form of art
Of which
We are all artists
And we delight in pain
Whether when inflicted on us
And we dance in self-pity
Or sweet vengeful bitterness
Or when others around us suffer
And we gather round the table
To feast on the delicious degradation of others’ misfortunes
We express an unknown sort of disgust or shock
At some scandal
Oh the thrill we feel all the way
When we make drums of others

Even the innocent little kid is already being initiated into the art. (source: smithsonianmag.com)

 

[Even the innocent little kid is already being initiated into the art. (source: smithsonianmag.com)]

Carry your troop away
I want none of you
Don’t disturb this lonesome artist
Lounging out peacefully
On his rooftop
Where he has placed a mat
For him to lie stretched out skin-bare
Light-brown leather
Just another drum
But in the arms of a Creator
Kind and merciful unlike all these I see
And don’t you dare call me irritable
Just because I can’t dance to your sick tune.
_____________________________________________

BACKGROUND: Please, if I may very mildly say, I am not a fan of how ingeniously cruel we can be as humans when we delight in the suffering of people. Sadly, this does not exempt the seemingly nice ones at times when they have reacted in apparent horror at another’s misfortune. Meanwhile, underneath are all sorts of feelings and thoughts they would not be exactly proud of if shown clearly.
So, let none tag me along in these discussions. I’ll be sure to spoil the fun for you. Don’t worry, I won’t mind when you all turn your appetites towards the “misfit” in the comment thread, away from the true victims who need more from you than your clichéd expressions of mock shock, which seem to be ALL you would have to offer.

Rainy Life’s Seasons

crazy man in the rain...

crazy man in the rain…

Sneaky winds jump around the sky
With joyous malicious whistles
Dark clouds gather together
In sadistic congregation.

/Intermission/
No! This is not just another rainy day
Another bland nature poem
Nor a hifalutin attempt at shameless self-aggrandizement
By a writer with inferiority complex

Carry me out dear nutty wife
Lovingly throw me into the open
I love liberating feels of breezes
But just a shell-y man scared to get out

The feverish anticipation
Of what weather holds today
Makes my body shake ecstatically
Like it happened last night

One by one
I lose my selves
My anxious personality
My prim obsessive-compulsive

The showers start
I look behind the clouds high up
Asking, daring the Creator-God
To do better than just showers

Ha! But I know
He can do more
I tell him I can handle his worst blessings
Tell him to come out from behind clouds

Then

From around the corner
The flood pours out
Across my village cottage
On a hillside

I throw away my cane
Bloody old man that I am
Take a gladiator stance
Look the blessed flood in the face

Flood hits me in the beard
Creator stifles a snigger
Flood sweeps me off my foot
I start to drown, laughing

Shame on me!
For all my boasting
Steee-rike one n’ I’m out!
Sliding down the hillside

A shameless old man
One-legged, dancing
Drenched in happiness
In a flood of rain

Screaming out a holy swearword
“God will be the death of me!
Hee-hee-haw-haw-haw!!!
Hahaa-hahahaha!!!”

BACKGROUND: I am probably one of the few species of men *eyes rolling* who show genuine appreciation for many different seasons (though I favour a burning sun least of all). The rains are officially starting in my part of the world and I never tire of how refreshed and invigorating it makes me feel.

the rain's awe...
the rain’s awe…

This evening, it brings to mind the many ways I play with the Unseen. As true as it is that science has explanations for many things, it does not make a case in court AGAINST the unseen and non-material wonders that exist here. The two sides can coexist. Forget for a moment the [visible] people that misrepresent the invisible.
I remember past happy seasons of my life… from the shocking big blessings… to simple pleasures like raining showers on my skin. And I am making new happy memories. In the midst of many difficulties faithfully stalking my daily life like psychopaths.
The Creator has got His ways!

A nail to the head

image

(Source online, unknown)

I now stand tall proud loser
Gracefully holding my head
Empty of any sensibility
Hence easy to bear
My heart beating passionately easily
Because of the hole in my chest
Letting out the heavy sea of blood
The heart normally has to cope with

So, after my head empties out,
What next?

I boldly display my monkey-tail
Put up as I scamper away in frightful flight
From all the stark raving difficulties
Faithfully stalking my daily life like psychopaths

Then banging my head on the floor
In manly resignation to the insanities chasing me
To end up contacting ifeelshadows.com
So the kind Doc. can help nurse my mental bruises

I throw hands up in the air waving like at a musical rave
Poetically exclaiming the hopelessness of it all
Before even my penned hands get tired and chained
For this whole homicidal act on the dignified person of poetry

And I lie on my damp bed
Stinking un-bathed soul
Drenched with rain of sorrows
So cold in this life I can’t get dry

Never mind I am shivering epileptically
And I have to cover myself
Keeping me further damp, sticky and stinky
Yet You(God) don’t stop

But in all this call me sad –a sad, sad man
Because I see even no relief or sense in suicide
I am no judge in this frame of mind
But least, I was sane enough to analyse my hopelessness

What do You want from me
Will You be happy when I let it all go
Throw out my life
And hang myself on a cross?
Continue reading

Autumn’s song 1

image

(Source: unknown, online)

Something’s wonderful
About autumn’s signature
Sometimes making one artful
Out on the roof with nature

It’s leaf by leaf
Breath by breath
The tree heaves with relief
Burdensome leaves crash to death

On the forest flooring
Scope the bloodbath
Those souls autumn is tearing
Sprinkling on life’s sad path

Several meters up
Same autumn sings reverently
Once like a full inverted cup
Tree now stands silently

From a close distance
The writer observes
Taking a humble stance
The awesome nature deserves

Birds sing no more
Staying away from this tree
Now bereft of glamour
But feeling so free

Work your art writer
Sing with the season
As trees around you falter
Write without reason

Of the tree feeling great
Its life-giving leaves fall
To hope for fresh leafy weight
Or die slowly with ease by next fall