Just a morning ramble
Just a morning ramble...
It’s funny
to have a writer’s block,
When your
head is buzzing with a thousand thoughts.
Not that I’m
a writer of any kind,
But the pen
& paper is the only relief I find.
So, when I
wake up at the weeny hours of the morning,
I sometimes sit
down with my pen and keep humming.
The words
fall short most of the days,
It’s mostly
scrap paper and a heap of waste.
The thoughts
lose weight the moment I utter,
I don’t tell
them right, it’s mostly a stutter.
But at times I’m
on my own with a pen in my hand,
It does feel
like a sword in my own victory land.
And since I’m
free, I dare to ask why,
Why the
world feels dysfunctional at times.
Why there
are rules to dress, to eat,
On who you
sleep with and how you sit.
And never
enough thoughts on how to feed,
On what to
study and how to read,
On how to
get the sewage done,
On how to stop
rallies and work for fun.
Why there no
rules on who rules us..
And no rules
for people who make a fuss.
There are no
rules on traffic and loudspeakers,
No rules for
religious fits and social stinkers,
No rules for
people who got undue power.
They don’t need
degree and can be a lazy stupor.
Why there no
ETA for people higher up,
Why is there
so much fear to voice and be just.
Only few
rare gems who look through other’s eyes,
I promise to
be that person even if the whole world dies.
Individual
happiness and zero collective gain,
Own personal
agenda, who cares who’s in pain.
It’s the same
everywhere
Friends, work,
family, beyond and over.
Lots of
people to judge, to shout,
None to
listen, to stand by in doubt.
There are
cheese and wine for happy talks,
But no one
breaks a rye when feeling daunts.
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| Picture from Google. |
But its okay once you know,
Once you
come to terms with it and let it go.
There are
mountains, sea and happy valleys for you,
And those
far and few who you can count on too.
The needed change may take a long time,
May never
happen and it might be a mime.
But so be
it, you are here for the moment.
You touch
one soul and do your best.
So, I grow
out of it every day, every hour
Zen is my friend; everything else is a blur.
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