Narrative

You see & I see
Almost exactly the same things
What could be, or may be
But we’re never in sync
You’re half full, I’m empty
And neither of us wins
You say & I say
We see such different things.

What you saw, I missed out
I looked the other way
And by the time you turned around
My frame had already changed.
But this was your world and mine
Not a worldwide release
That you & I saw differently
Was an issue for you and me.
Your truth & mine
No longer what we meant it for
A connection for two
Not a skype call with the world

The world knows what they see
A unit despite disparity
You & I separated
From the common story.
What they read into me
And what they read into you
So different from what we know
So different from our truth.

But who can keep the world away
When they’ve picked their sides?
Now it’s about who saw it right
And picked the winning guy
You saw what I saw
For the first time, aligned
What absolutely could not be
No two ways around this time.
Both glasses half empty
A part empties away
As the world counts their winnings
And our story fades away.

Beating Retreat - An Empty Apology

Do me a favour & let go
Not of the love
Not the love, ever
Let go of the fight
The constant ceasefire
The battle scars,
The lost men,
The open wounds,
Let go!

The constant reminders
Of how we could be better
The recaps, reviews
Let's put it behind us.
The armies are tired
Weary & worn
Battered, bruised
Beaten & torn.

So let the wounds heal
Though the scars remain
Let every heart beat
Wash away the fresh pain
Let the skin stitch
Where we broke it
Let things go back to the flow
Stay away, heartbreak.
Please, just let go.

Take Flight

Steps.
Rhythmic, periodic
Like pendulums ruled by formulae
Hypnotized, hypnotic
They never question; on they sway

It doesn't matter what time of day

You'll take off and land anyway

Just follow what the uniforms say

And if you'll please step this way..

Step by step like they are told
Isolated crowds though they fly alone
A social parody, a dark comedy,

Run without a flaw
Check in, security, the final boarding call

Willingly strapped
Into a place not of your choice
Hushed & Muted
Scared to make a noise
And break the sound barriers set in place
Unspoken rules of airplanes.

Someone else's flight plans
And some other man's rules
Veiled do's & don't's
That you "Choose" to don't & do

Step by step
Filling into stiff packaging
Conveyor belt compliance
Disguised as travelling

Or travel reminding you of airplane-discipline-life
Where pretty faces & authority guide you through the skies

A prisoner of pseudo independence
As you fly & feel "Free"
Periodically strapped back in
In the interest of your safety
Suggestions politely made
Cannot, do not, I'd suggest you don't
Of course you have a say!
The final 'choice' is all your own

Only do remember
If you fail to comply
The tinfoil prison you're in
Could combust mid-flight
And God-forbid the structural hit
And the sheer volume of loss
All because you failed to listen 
And pay attention to us

As you subside into your seat
In willing submission
The slow lethargy steps in
The stagnation of oppression
Fly by night and close your eyes
Dream of when you'll be free
One day you'll close your eyes like this
And head to an epiphany

Structure & Rules work for a start
But once you're in the air
Fixed, unmoving guidelines
Are better off not there

Once the doors close & you're wished a safe flight
Just how you land

Is in your hand
A perfect 10 
Or a blaze of light

Borders

Borders
Don't matter
When you're two beers down.

Borders
Stop existing
When you walk in & sit down

A drink or two
A smoke to share
And you're on your way

To a fleeting conversation
That's here to stay.

Share a light
A fry or two
And there's tales to tell
Borders
Will stop existing
And nations as well.

Borders
Don't exist
When you're two beers down.

Borders
Lose their meanings
Where there's real meaning to be found.

*Disclaimer:
This has nothing to do with political conflict. This is about the IDEA of borders.

#PartOfAWhole

"Shuttered against storms
Holed up in the dark
Removed, Forbidding
Nothing would pass"

...

They warned her
As she set out alone
Told her
It could not be done
The elusive, the flighty
What she tried to find
Didn’t really exist
It was all in her mind

But on she went
Undaunted
She knew what she’d seen
What she wanted
The flashes of light & the shutter removed
That’s what she aimed for
What she wanted to do



*This poem was originally about something very different.
But it could so easily be something more.

Asleep

I wonder who's watching when we sleep
When we curl up to block in the heat
When arms touch arms and chest to cheek
New rhythms awaken as we breathe.

I wonder who listens to that new beat
Lungs expanding & contracting peacefully
Fitting into crevices like they were made for me
Arms tightening around you more securely

I wonder who reads my mind just then
And knows what hasn't been spoken
I wonder who slows down time a bit
Without either of us realizing it

I wonder who's watching when we sleep
Who sees me struggle to keep
My eyes shut tight a little longer
Determined that morning will not conquer

I wonder if there's a way that they
They could find a way for us to stay
Undisturbed a little bit
Curled up together just like this.

Bribes

It was another one of the same old drills; sit just so, move just so, hands like this, head like this, smile prettily, now, they mustn’t think you’re rude! He dared to look around the room, aghast at his own audacity to lift his eyes. They mustn’t see him; they wouldn’t give him what he wanted, if they did. Most days, he only let them poke and prod and parade for what was waiting for him upstairs. It was all worth it, once – he had let himself slip. A sharp jab at the base of his spine reminded him of his realities.

He managed.
The evening was over.
Up they went; he never travelled anywhere without his escorts, and much as he hated it, he was used to it now, and didn’t bother. As he was let into his quarters, and the door clicked shut behind him, he lifted his eyes to the reproachful figures he faced.
“You sold out!”
“You didn’t even try…”
“I told you we shouldn’t be relying on this one.”
“Pah!”

They followed him as he turned away and walked to where he really wanted to be. Taunts kept flowing; he had failed, he had submitted, he should repent… But he was used to it. As he drew close to his little desk, he started to feel something akin to panic. He couldn’t see it. It wasn’t there.
He looked around, hoping they hadn’t done what he thought they had.
The room was bare.
They’d tricked him.
It had all been a trick.

One by one the voices fell silent. One by one, they cackled as he absorbed them within his rage; eyes obscured by red as his brain fell silent, letting the pandemonium continue. But it wasn’t chaos anymore, it was structured. There was only one thing they all wanted and they were going to get it.

The door was no match for the anger of a being denied. As he burst through, he heard voices echoing behind him.
“I told you it was a bad idea!”
“Who screwed up?”
“Come back here!”

Nothing worked.

The gathering he had just run away from was still in full swing.
Nobody noticed the small rage-filled figure standing in the doorway till he threw back his head and let rip a wail that would awaken the dead.

The muted, tasteful music was no match for the little boy in his pyjamas. The chattering crowd came to a grinding halt, shooting glances at the mortified parents, embarrassed for them, but unsure how to help.

The flustered parents rushed to the tiny, wailing figure, attempting to pick him up and isolate the problem the best they could. He wailed, he flailed, he didn’t need words. As his parents picked him up and rushed him out of the room, he heard them hissing at his nanny “We told you to keep track of ONE thing…”

It had worked.

Minutes later, he was quiet, and the nanny was looking at another job.

His parents back in the midst of company smiled apologetically “He just can’t do without us, poor lamb. Needs his bedtime story.”

He smiled where he sat, back in his room, his little bowl in front of him, happily licking his spoon clean, his demons snoozing quietly around him.
“Bedtime story? I’d choose chartreuse every time.”

Prompt: I’d choose chartreuse every time