Signs

A dull hum, under my pillow
My eyes open to darkness, a flashing pale blue dot
Sliding across, I unlock, the glare hits me
I pull down the menu, yank the control to dim
blinking through glued eyes, I read
an apology, you didn't see, a consolation kissie.
A promise to call soon, and I so wish you would.

Free calls, free texts and cute emojis
we can always be in touch, and talk
I guess I am too old, I remember rotary telephones
the crackle of the line, a hum and your voice.
Beep-Boop-Beep, button dial phones and redial!
Green backlights, dot-matrix displays, 25 contacts
Snake, Space Impact and 8 bit ringtones
Colour phones, polyphonic ringtones and Bounce
Packet Data, forever-waiting GPRS internet
grainy cameras and multimedia messages
MP3's and MP4's, Bluetooth and sharing music

No more putting coins in every 180 seconds
Not knowing by heart, your cellphone and home number
Waiting for you after class while space-ships
and one-eyed, laser firing monsters blew up
a self-composed ringtone of our favorite love song...

Putting pictures of us up on the wallpaper, laughing silly
The mix-tape died with a sigh, you had my playlist
and I had yours, in our phones, we were forever together
forever together is not the same as together forever
So the years passed and you became a memory
your old texts stayed in that folder, tucked away
to be read when nothing else seemed to make sense

So honey I hope you understand why I fear disconnection
I have seen all but a small part of all this world has made so far
things to bring us closer and keep us together
are but containment units for the ghosts of our past.
When my phones die, I thank the Fates
for destroying memories I couldn't, myself
For the monsters under my bed, used to be in my bed.

You'd think that all of this would make,
every passing second with you, connected.
It probably doesn't, as in every excruciatingly terrifying
second when I realize that I can't reach you because
you really are too far away, and that I cannot
be there for you when you really need me and that
there will be someone to listen to you, when I would rather
hold you, hug you and tell you everything will be alright.
And I feel you, like sand flowing out of my fingers
I fear you would flow faster so I hold on; lightly, confused,

and now the bottom of the hourglass is full
with an ever-shifting small dune.
and you have slipped away
with the sands of time.

All this noise in the quiet

Disclaimer: Not a poem, just an attempt to simply phrase thoughts without excessive descriptions.


Herds are
for gazelles and buffaloes
I can't care
to conform, fit in, blend
I rage against
fixed patterns and protocols
hierarchy, condescension and superciliousness
a thin veneer covering ignorance and conflated selfs
go fuck yourselves please

I would rather have my own gig
my peace of mind, time alone with my thoughts
think through why we do what we do
and why we can't or may not do something
that is how I learn and prefer it

Rather than hand-me-downs from hearsay
legends and urban myths
the joy is in self-discovery
not in forcing a laugh on dumb attempts at humour
because frankly, herds bore me,
someone said once that a herd was only the average of its members
I believe him now,

Break away and fly free
let me hear your thoughts
yours, not hashed from the blogs or whatever.
Uniform opinions bore me, tell me something new
and I will tell you something I learned yesterday
and maybe we can do this all day

This world is more colourful
when you have your thoughts
and I have mine.
And we talk to each other,
just to think each others thoughts
and we may beg to differ, but with love.

For a lifetime would not be enough
to read everything that was ever written
so maybe, we can share what we've read
teach what we've learned,
tell what we've seen and heard
and have a hundred lifetimes instead of just one.