Tag: Free verse

Poem: Burning Bridges

Arshan Dhillon

In between chaos and order hangs a bridge made of old wood and old rope,

the planks creak and moan under the pressure of footsteps,

back-and-forth man walks,

hovering between the two possibilities.

 

Tipped towards the dark by forces outside of him,

the chaotic unfolds the center and he falls apart,

his world, his mind, his heart consumed by anarchy,

which turns to arson,

burning away the innocence,

burning away the old bridge,

its charred remains fall into the abyss,

the whites of mans eyes look out through the darkness that shrouds him,

the heart is lost,

the limbs move in an erratic manner,

striking whatever is in its way,

transferring the pain, the hate, the chaos to whatever he touches,

he goes from a being to a man, to an animal and now to an It.

 

Behind the eyes the embers of order burn,

less so than before,

they search for the savior, thinking that the savior is out there,

somewhere,

for the disturber of the balance was external,

mistaken in this belief, the lost are never found.

 

The Spiritus Mundi aimlessly walks inside of man,

waiting to be held, waiting to be guided, waiting to become the guide,

in this disorder, what is required isn’t logic,

reason doesn’t build the bridge again,

the beast with the lions body must be tamed and upon it,

the mans head is placed,

and through such a harmony, a fusion of man and beast, the bridge is remade,

through such surrender, balance is restored.

 

But it’s easier said than done, like all things,

no one wants to let go of chaos,

it serves as an out,

a way to let go of responsibility,

a way to blame,

a way to survive,

no one wants to admit that the darkness is comforting,

that those thoughts are pleasing,

happy in the emptiness,

lost in the chaos,

happy in the chaos,

why be born again?

why restore the order?

why go through the pain?

 

Senseless beasts roam around,

intelligent fetus’ crawl around,

erratic and thoughtful,

misery and miserable,

only see a few who are beings,

those few are constantly struggling to stay whole,

as all around them is fire,

burning bridges,

and the flame is so alluring.

 

 

Poem: Out of Sight

Arshan Dhillon

The flowers bloom out of sight,

the sun rises out of sight,

the sun sets out of sight,

the gathering clouds, the soft rain, the waving grass blades,

nature’s call,

out of sight, out of sight.

 

She sits by herself, her

shawl wrapped around her, comforting

cotton material, what

she needs is the comforting touch of her fellow being, but

pride is damming, also

the lack of awareness is prevalent, as

man goes about their day.

 

Men with diamonds around on their wrists,

women with diamonds around their necks,

her eyes avoiding her own reflection,

as people double click the pictures on injustice on their phones,

sipping on their drinks,

while she thirsts for aid.

 

Too many animals walking around, not

enough humans, too

many concerned about themselves, their

own looks, their own bank account, their own desires, not

enough who can empathize with the desperate others, even

though everyone knows the desperation, and

in their own time of desperation craved another’s compassion.

 

“How are you?”

“Are you okay?”

She talks to herself,

answering herself,

practicing a smile,

to match that of the surrounding people,

so she feels part of the crowd,

and not alone,

as she sits alone,

out of notice,

out of care,

out of sight,

wandering animals around her.

 

Poem: The Passage of Permanence

Arshan Dhillon

The passage of time,

The passage of worries,

The passage of sadness,

The passage of happiness,

The passage of love.

 

Nothing is permanent,

desires change, hopes change, I change,

some changes come with a hope of permanence,

this new me will stick around, hopefully,

other changes come with the hope of immediate change,

finding myself in lows of life,

hoping like the flip of a coin it can turn around,

thinking if I will even remember what I hold dear now.

 

The days go by and it’s the next year,

older I get the more desperate it seems,

desperate to become someone,

this never used to be a concern of mine but is now,

even this desperation will pass, when

I either succeed (even that will pass),

or when I fail (even that will pass),

either way, something new will take over for the time and that too shall pass.

 

Just like the good times with hearty laughs,

just like the bad times with teary eyes,

the passage is permanent,

I am not,

So, smile some, try some, love some, cry some, fail some,

and in the end, I know I’ll be alright,

for the next passage awaits.

 

Poem: Finding Heaven

Arshan Dhillon

Heavens and Earth rose out of chaos,

as Milton said,

prior to it, life was just existence,

plain and empty,

meaningless with nothing to aim towards,

the fruit set man free,

digesting chaos and allowing it to spill into the body, into the blood, into the heart and mind,

with it came an aim,

aim to get back to the heavens which now separated from the plain existence of old,

get back to the ideal,

now the individual actions and choices mattered,

those who made order within themselves found heaven again.

 

Yet, every day we avoid chaos,

take the easy way, the comfortable way, the known path,

avoid what is unknown,

walk within the safe bounds,

only safe risks, safe decisions, safe impulses,

but in that safe life, we set the aim only to the ground we walk upon.

 

In order to find heaven,

your hellish roots must be visible,

in that is meaning,

to face the abyss,

to stand at the edge,

to shake hands with your shadow,

to embrace the possibility of disorder for eternity,

to jump off the cliff and make the parachute on your way down,

in that is life,

in that is heaven.

 

 

Poem: Pavlov’s Human

Arshan Dhillon

All these plans make you forget the animal you are,

The hopes and dreams,

The wishlists for tomorrow,

Changes that you’ll enact,

The person you’ll become,

Write it all down, speak it into existence, start an accountability challenge.

 

Shape your mind,

The self-help books,

The self-help tapes,

The daily quote machine,

The daily promises.

 

And then, after all of this,

Wake up, drink your cup of coffee and trigger your animal and fall right back into the old habits, the old patterns,

Into the old you,

The current you,

The forever you,

Struggling to be you,

As the animal response stays well trained,

Pavlov’s human.