Lonely Clouds Club

My heart is like a cloud.
Drifting, drifting. It would not
stop. Till it gets too heavy.
Then it would
pour and fall.
Splitting

into a million

pieces. Each piece is unique
but similar at the same time.

But after it -splits- it will
take some time to heal,
to form and reform. Starting out
with a lightness of being and then
getting heavier
and heavier.

I wonder then, how many
thunderstorms I can weather.
How many times will I let the thunder
clap, clap, clap.
Mocking my fragile heart.
How much lightning would it take to
zap, zap, zap.
To revive my flat-line heart.

They say that every cloud
has a silver lining. And I wonder
what colour my lining is.
It probably is a shade
of yellowish and grey.
A lonesome cloud
In the pale bare night.

Just floating along.
Till it gets heavy again.
Then it will pour.
Because it never just rains,
it pours.

For Those That Have Lost

Weary,
Weary,
Wary.
They are tired.
Of having their hopes raised.
And then -
Dashed.
They rinse themselves of shame.
And repeat.
Doomed to failure,
Even from the beginning.
Uneven at the end.


The truth.
Lies buried.
Some emerge wounded.
Others lie.
Shaken and unshaken.
They are dead.
My brothers are dead.


For love leaves many casualties.
In its wake,
There is a trail of destruction.
Yet,
We soldier on,
We soldier on.

Seasons Of Love

I've found warmth as I held your hands.
Grasping tight till knuckles turn white,
In the harshly cold winter night,
I've found someone who understands.

I've found joy in your lovely smile.
I would lay my worries aside,
As it melted my foolish pride,
And learn to love the here and now.

I've found myself a fair lady.
Tinge of familiarity,
Complexion of untold beauty,
Like Summer's sun shining on me.

I've found what I had lost last year.
Falling leaves are a reminder,
Of past loves torn asunder,
Just let me hold on forever.

Seasons come and go at God's will,
But - l pray you'll stay, if you will.

Free To Love

Worry not about sunsets missed
Or the slow walks we never took.
Worry not about goodbyes kissed
Or about how you really look.

I have forgotten yesterday,
Don't know what tomorrow will bring.
All I ask is that you will stay,
Till you hear the fat lady sing.

The crashing sound of rolling waves,
The light of many stars above,
Will break the chains of lonely slaves.
Bound by expectations of love.

Amidst the mystery of the night,
We are all that matters to me.
Isn't it a wonderful sight?
This place where we are truly free.

To laugh
And be merry.
To love,
To love.

Inappropriate Train(ed) Thoughts

I'm all ears.
All eyes even.
As the train pulls up into the station,
I'm taking stock of the situation.
Before La Porte de l'Enfer is breached,
Before the vacancies come under siege,
I must find my seat!

Rascals all!
Demons even!
Alas, it was not meant to be.
Sweet seat of mine taken away from me.
Like hungry ghosts they swarm around,
Like vultures they swiftly surround.
Guess I'll have to wait for my seat.

Here's my chance.
Now's the time.
The next stop is Little India!
Quick! Stand in front of a little Indian.
This time I'm sure to get my seat,
This time I won't accept defeat.
Time for His Majesty to take his throne.

Finally I've won!
But what's this?
Behold, a new challenger has arrived!
One whose seat I cannot deprived.
The Golden Oldies rule the land.
Here comes another one of them!
I've no choice but to abdicate-

Myself.
My self.
And all my selfish ambitions,
I surrender in submissions.
I am left standing on this train,
Contemplating with much disdain,
Tensions in modern society.

-Aug

Crushed

Silence.
Impenetrable mind.
I plod round in circles, wondering.
Wandering.
Patience.

Inexplicable mind.
I prod around, tinking.
Thinking.

Despair.
Incoherent mind.
I give up, I gave up.
Loving.

Meta - Physics

My mind whirrs,
An empty disk.
Spinning endlessly,
A neurotic web of information.

My short fuse,
A confusing form of binary fission.
Black and white becomes grey matter;
Her hopeful ones and my dreamy zeros are disconnected.

My poor muse,
Entangled in ancient papyrus.
Looking forlorn,
Fallen.

My heart thumps,
A ticking metronome.
A rhythm for my poem,
Wired and inspired by my brain.

My madam,
The modem.
Connects me to a greater world;
I am a better man.

And therefore,
I dream of that greater world.
Where men and machine together,
Become that sought after endgame.