Tag Archives: end

Fading Away is Impossible

Posted in Poetry English by

A poem about wanting to disappear—and realizing why we cannot.

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Sometimes I wish I could just fade away,

leaving behind no memory, not even a trace

Sometimes I wish I could remove myself,

from this stupid illusion of life and space

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There are a million colors in the world;

one black less, and it won’t make any difference

There are a billion stars in the dark night sky,

one going dark won’t make any difference

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What am I in this complicated puzzle?

A minute piece of desire, and nothing else

What am I in this mine of diamonds?

A small piece of black coal, and nothing else

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Leaving would be perfect – a final solution,

to the conflict between desire and reality

Leaving would be beautiful – a final touch,

to a trashy abstract painting that I see

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Fading is simple, and leaving no trace is impossible;

removal is easy, and leaving no memory is hard

What to do and what not to do? It’s a dilemma

But I have to play it, it’s my final card

Who Gives a Shit?

Posted in Poetry English by

A brutal, unapologetic poem about meaning, indifference, and the absurdity of existence.

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Who gives a shit if we win or if we lose;

or if we go free, or if we tighten the noose?

We are all here to walk for only a while,

some walk for ages, and some for a mile

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Who gives a shit if you remember our deeds;

or forgotten by all for whom we sow the seeds?

We are all here to do our own part,

some make it a burden, a few make it an art

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Who gives a shit if we remain forever chaste;

or if we surrender to lust even with distaste?

We were blessed with pleasure by Him;

we must follow its fulfilment at a whim

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Who gives a shit if we walk a virtuous path;

or if we love what’s forbidden and invite His wrath?

Sins are seductive, and virtue is so boring;

to walk straight is dull, and so indulging is the whoring

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Who gives a shit if we are as moral as the prophets;

or if we favour immorality because of huge profits?

Comfortable is what this life is supposed to be;

luxury is what we should all pursue with glee

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Who gives a shit if we believe in one or more gods;

or, if we choose to be faithless and don’t bet on odds?

We may decide to be a herd without a shepherd;

but in a race for survival, we need to be the leopard

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Who gives a shit if we ever get what we want;

or if we fail and are ready to face each taunt?

When we get lucky, we should thank our stars;

when we miss the mark, it was never ours

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Who gives a shit if we are as selfless as we claim;

or if we are all selfish, playing our own game?

Life is so merciless, as we have all lived and seen;

on the other side, it is always brown and never green

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Who gives a shit if we keep on living for long;

or if we die tomorrow, being crushed by a throng?

We didn’t matter at all, we never really mattered;

our dreams of grandeur should be all shattered

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Who gives a shit if all goes quiet when we die;

or if it all restarts and we are born anew with a cry?

One cycle or one after another, a sequence or progression,

we may all be one or a part of a large procession

The Last Song

Posted in Poetry English by

When the last song is sung, nothing is denied—not love, not guilt, not longing.

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Come let us sit by this brightly burning fire;

let us forget all and everything, the good and the dire

Let the high flames defrost our frozen souls,

all the cold voids within and all the black holes

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Come let us search for and grab our broken violins;

let us sing songs, and remember and repent our sins

Let the warmth of our company mend our broken hearts,

all the joys and regrets - together and in parts

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Come let us lament, the fading memory of old love;

let us caress our nostalgia - the delicate, grey dove

Let the stories we tell mark our long and sad past,

let them cherish our tears, which dried up so fast

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Come let us remember innocence, which was lost forever;

let us applaud corruption, the seduction was so very clever

Let us rethink all our deeds, so lofty and so dark,

let us not pass a harsh judgment, with a red mark

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Come let us sit by this brightly burning fire;

let us blow it anew, the flames loftier and higher

Let us say farewell to everything, ambition, and desire;

warmly welcoming the end, the savior, and the pyre

The Boat that was Doomed Forever

Posted in Poetry English by

There was once a very small boat;

made of polished, dark mahogany

It had to keep itself forever afloat;

its habits were a strange homogony

The boat being very small and petty;

it didn’t matter in His design at all

But its fate was written in the jetty;

in a few sentences, dark and small

‘You are hereby destined, you old one;

ordained to sail to non-existent shores

No other options or choices are none;

all the other paths end on locked doors’

‘Read these words, for it is your fate;

eternally destined to bet on lost causes

Do take it from me and do take it straight;

there is only anguish and no applauses’

The boat surely didn’t want this fate;

but life was cursed and forever doomed

Distress was certain and was never late;

the horn of frustration forever boomed 

Still, the old boat didn’t lose hope;

and started each journey with faith

Braving the waves, no anchor or rope;

a lonesome ghost, a silent wraith

There were storms and hard rain;

the boat did not care and moved on

There was damage and even pain;

the boat always waited for the dawn

Sometimes it saw lights and visions;

smiling with hope, it rowed on

But those were all bitter delusions;

the visions, what its fancy had drawn

Sometimes, it heard joyous laughter;

with a hopeful heart, it shouted ‘ahoy!’

Trying to chase the voices, it went after;

but found only silence, no mirth, no joy

Well, that was the life of this poor boat;

the lonely boat that was doomed forever

This was all - the life of this boat;

all the same were the days, whatsoever

The boat is tired, its wood has all but rotten;

there are several leaks, it’s  bound to sink

The dreams of glory, all forgotten;

the end is near, it has reached the brink

But the boat rows on, for it has a purpose;

it’s destined to live on, it’s meant to serve

The heart is tired, exhausting is the circus;

no time to lay anchor, no sense to lose nerve