Someone I Once Knew

If only you’d said what I wanted to hear

I may have been relieved of the pain, may have been delivered

But it is not to be, I have had to lie

Hide myself from you, because you don’t seem to be you.

A shadow of someone I once knew

It’s a tragedy, its a farce, it’s something that has finally gone, at long last

It’s irretrievable and it’s not okay for you, I still grieve, I still care

And if it weren’t for my ego, I may just have dropped to my knees and washed out the garbage

Were it not for your cold skin, I may just have had a smile on my face

Seeking some peace, if I ever asked for help, you’d refuse and smile and tell me it’s nothing

It’s nothing to you, it’s something to me and it’s more than what I can handle today

Right On Time

Like a clock, right on time, quickly scrolling to a point, I wait and hold my breath as the page loads

I see, sigh in relief, as I mark the day and the attendance of a view and am satisfied for the day

That something is in my favour, that swimming against the stream will pay off someday

And I see and count again and stare at the map, as I trace my fingers along the edges, like it’s your face

Somehow, in this desolate existence, I find my solace.


See the bodies swaying to the beats, see the blood running on the streets

This blood is not going to trickle away, this blood is not cheap

It’s a price, a price we have to pay for the bigotry of our leaders, here to stay

Slit the wrists, turn protectors against the people, choke the very fabric that keeps us together

Choke everyone.

But there is always one rat that will nibble on the net and set everyone free

Call us rats, or anti-nationals, as Shakespeare says: What’s in a name?

For the one I am standing up for, I am the angel to guard their honour

In any attire. Strip me of everything, I’m still a human

But it’s not what you see.

True Love

What comes after heartbreak? What is left after an unrequited love?

Loving each other without possession, loving despite the distance, despite the heartbreak

Keeping faith, not letting go of the whisp of yesterday

A high kind of love. A test of time. True love.

Of no use

You are a distant dream, a fading memory, a silly old crinkly paper rolled at the foot of the bed, not of use

A river, that slowing makes its way, through the ragged mountains, valleys and into the stream

Your memory carves out my mind, like a saw, it curves it’s path, roughing the edges

I watch in torment. Silent in my plight, like the petrified child in the darkness of the room

Screaming into the pillow of half-woven words of love, unrequited

Unbent, and unbroken, I still stand tall. Appearances. *Shrug* what can I say so you’d believe me?

I’m a sad, ragged doll of no use. Just like your memories, stowed away into the corners of my mind, of no use.

Death is a friend

Life is hard. Circumstances are harder. What is it that life is leading us towards? I often wonder why we go through suffering if death is inevitable.

Death is inevitable, it’s coming for us. And why are we so glad for a designated end?

Why, for some of us, is death a form of respite, promised at the end of a dark tunnel?

Death is a dear friend for whom we are waiting eagerly, watching, hoping for a quick withdrawal.

And to think, one person or an incident can drop you a whole level and make you beg for release

Life is a punishment to those who are aware. A burden to bear.

Rip apart the soul, see what’s inside and tell me if I’m lying.

I’m bent, wings clipped, an empty vase, that I wish I could fill.


It’s now been months and I haven’t heard what I have been waiting for

Days have been passing in a blur, seems like yesterday when it was how it should’ve been

Time has become elusive and I drink the darkness like water, letting it fill me up

I’m drowning in my sorrows, spiralling and I deserve it

No one asked me to walk into the trap with all my baggage

Now I’m homeless, now I am alone

It’s been months and I haven’t found a home, I wear the same heart on my sleeve, broken it may be.

I ran away, and I still can’t shrug off the shadow that follows, that haunts

My dreams and my days, empty as they are, you are an unwelcome guest

Taking Action

The hardest part is to watch their back, keep watching the fading footsteps

The hardest part is to turn around, and with hunched shoulders, carry the weight

The hardest part is to walk away from the place of hurt, and vow to never return that burial ground

The hardest part is to let yoursel hide in the ground, the Sun is too cruel in the place where things happened

Felt like death, a shadow, a wisp of you, an echo will now take over as you take the back seat

The hardest part is to see chances being given and being missed on purpose

The hardest part is to take action, steer the wheel to where you want to go, to find peace, some relief

Would you?

When the storm blew over and the dust started to settle, you looked over your shoulder to see if I was still there

A doubt was starting to form in your mind, an idea that the narrative should’ve been different

A decision taken untimely, a mistake committed unknowingly

Did you dare to turn back and walk towards me? Would you ever find me?

The dust has settled and the caravan has moved, another day to another fairytale

You are still there, walking in the wrong direction, hoping to see me somewhere?

Would you ever see me again? If you would, would you show yourself?

Pain is my normal

How can you say that I take pleasure in my pain?

Do you even know my pain? Did you ever try to begin to understand where it stems from? What’s its source?

I take pleasure in my pain, all I have ever known, pain is my normal.

I do not understand joy, the feeling eludes me

Bouts of excitement is always followed by a fresh batch of pain, a product ill-bigoted gain

Judge me for being in pain, I will still smile that smile of disdain

Carry on thinking you know what life is, but, truth is, you don’t even know the half of it.

Person of Misery

Circumstances made me, I am a person of Misery

I didn’t choose this, this life chose me

Chaotic, it may be, dreary and gloomy, but it’s me

And if you don’t like me, the world is full of those who can make you smile with glee.


Nightmares have a funny way of toppling your normal, boring life into a series of stressful events. Nightmares dig into the recesses of your mind, taking out your insecurities and playing them into a beautiful sequence of everything that you avoid in a movie format, and you are the lead.

Giving some context, there is a house about to collapse sideways, and the epicentre of the nightmare is on the top floor. For some reason, the walls are pink; an ugly shade of pink. A huge crowd and the epicentre is running towards something maybe or running away from something, a significant date, ominous music and tearful gazes.

There is suspense, lots of it. Annoyingly enough, it ends without a climax, leaving the dreamer into a state of frenzy, flustered, exhausted. You name it.

Dreamer fears the nightmares bring to life what is being suppressed. The mind seems to plot against the dreamer and together with a dark thought, validates the fears of a troubled soul.

Waking up is both blissful and traumatic at the same time. There is no win in the situation, the game is rigged, as I always say.

Watch your back, for there are knives pointed towards it. As the candles on your cake begin to increase, so do the knives.

Disappointment is not far, lurking in the shadows and crevices of your mind, waiting to pounce as soon as you begin to hope.

Hope is cancer. It eats you from inside and forces you to smile for the world which does not care what you are up to as long as they get what they want from you.

A barter.

You never feel the need to be around them but you want to be loved too, to be understood by someone who knows you from A to Z. Maybe you will be understood someday.

Fake it till you make it. It only means that you have to pretend until the socks fall off your feet, but the truth is you will get used to the fake and forget that you were actually supposed to make it.

Whatever, it’s life. It’s dreary.


Tell me.

If you would ever get a chance to tell me something you have never said before,

What would it be?

If today was the last day of our lives and you had a couple of minutes to catch up to me

Would you?

Somewhere down the road, if ever, you felt regret

Would you express it?

Would you tell me how you feel?

What would you say?


Travel to end of the world and still not let go

Cry, scream and run away but still not let go

A dream woven from a thousand fantasies for the one who was meant for me

Might as well grab a blanket and a book, it’s going to take a while

As I battle life and uproot myself time and again

Hoping to tumble into “love”.

Cannot outrun the war

We can try, we definitely can fight and hide and run

We can move countries and continents, we can change names and our ID cards

We can be an imposter denying our existence

But we cannot outrun the war

They’re screaming from mics and podiums for votes from people whose death sentences have been passed

Walking dead, we all are on this planet, dead inside

With fickle hope just giving us a nudge and the urge to make money to buy food is enough to keep us going in the dark times

But we cannot outrun the war, be it with the climate or the land grabbing, or mighty people squabbling over Nations.

We are in a war, a war which never ended. Just paused now and then.

And we looked away when it came too close. And looked away until it burned our own house down.

Too sad. And yet we are in denial that happiness is just round the corner.

Fickle minds.

Australia Fires

Fires that burn bright, through the day and into the night

A red-eyed monster, it has awaken the dark days of dread

Chasing through the forest floors, knocking at every door

Creatures of habit know not where to run

Survival is a must, but fire, how can we outrun?

Inferno, is what is the land down under

We see, we shiver and we hope and pray that it stops now

Raging fires, devouring all and equally unfair

We are dying, no one can see

We want to be safe too, but where do we flee?

Careless words being thrown around, sad smileys on Twitter, some retweets in your bank account

There is yet hope, that something can be done

If only the conscience would wake up and see the bloody house on fire

It may just, maybe, pick up a hose and douse the flames

That threaten our lives,

Peace be with thee, Kangaroos and Koalas and Camels and those

Who tried so hard, but couldn’t escape the onslaught

Never date a poet

No one is more vicious with words, no one understands it better

A poet can wound you without raising a knife, as words cut deep and a poet knows how

Never date a poet,

Unless you wish to be demonised, condemned and crucified at the altar of justice crafted from the winged imagination of a broken heart

Even if they break it first, they will find a way to somehow point the needle towards you.

You were the reason, they tell the world, for hurting them and all the sob stories

Stories spun from the pillow of dreams under the lofty Sun

Mesmerising light of day, with a black heart leading you astray

Never date a poet,

They will turn love into mush, which you won’t be able to stomach, and they will feed it to you

Make you sick, and get sicker still, feed you more until there is no scope for hope

Whether you stay or walk away, a creator will create, no matter how long or how arduous the process

A poet will catch up to you, hold on to words, describing you for what you will be in the eyes of the world.