words and other kinds of addictions


jarred from a pint of smoke
swirling like a gothic eyeliner
in my lungs, i feel the white rush
of an unsung addiction all over me
(being breathless in lieu of living),

i have seen beatific dreams of
an obtuse octopus, jeering jellyfishes
through my inner-channel
of reprieve – the loss of only a certain
kind of mediocrity,

i do not fit into the lines of my sleeping bag,
too big to carry my shoes on the head,
or crown me with metal links, or to tattle
through fists – the truth of only a certain
kind of morbidity,

i am a wastrel marooned in the aftermath
of my demise by goodness, unfit to perform,
cease control to rememorize, or to chase
my ghosts – the habit of a certain
kind of melancholy.


Image source (Up In Smoke Painting by Meredith B)

For Wordle # 202 at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie

It’s been a while – I haven’t felt the need to make a post in all this time. I have still been writing and discovering new avenues of my own expression, developing and improving the craft of my verse and its corresponding art. I have incidentally worked on a short collection for myself, indulging in everything from writing and editing to framing the layout and designing the cover (owing to my amateur skills in layout and designing software). It’s been an invigorating experience. My thoughts are catered now towards the idea of getting it published perhaps – I do not know yet whether I should pitch it for traditional publishing or self-publish it instead.
Nevertheless, it’s good to be posting something on this blog again, which had helped me through the harshest of times and made me fall deeper and deeper in love with poetry.


19 thoughts on “words and other kinds of addictions

  1. Though I’ve not met you, I read every word on your pages and thought most was inspired. What isn’t an act of inspiration is the manner in which you describe yourself. I have no knowledge if your words are true or a cover for what you have wanted to do but haven’t; Where does your confidence hide? Get it out and get to work as we are meant to do…always as we tell the world what we see, think, and feel. Inspiration is much more what is felt than what is seen. Don’t you agree?


  2. sanaarizvi says:

    It’s so good to see you post again. I have missed your poetry 😊 This is an incredibly intense piece. We live and evolve through several stages of our lives… constantly finding and understanding our needs and desires as we grow into the person we are meant to be. 💜

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Kerry says:

    I so enjoyed your piece – a deep introspection, ever so skillfully written. Excellent word choice, and a certain cynicism conveyed without it being overt.


  4. The second stanza is pure delight. It makes me want to dance with that octopus’s dream, perhaps swim in it and see what gets written with the strokes…

    The title is just precious.

    On the note, whatever you decide to do, I wish you the best of luck. I would wish you fun, too, but I know I don’t have to. You are already having it.


  5. It is so good to read you again, HA, and to know you have been writing. I am happy to know you are working on a book. Yay! I really enjoyed this poem, especially the stanza about the beatific dreams of an obtuse octopus. That made me smile.


  6. So glad the octopus was obtuse and not otiose. I wondered where you had slipped away to. Good to see you back. I like this poem – cynical without being crushing and overly intellectual. Wonderful.


  7. Good to be reading your poems again. the loss of only a certain
    kind of mediocrity… that’s something I am still pondering over… along with the alliterations and imagery…


  8. Jim says:

    I call this the innards tale of coming down. Addictions will take one there, my body, though not the entire me, was addicted to tobacco. I shook that. The other, to opioids, I didn’t really shake, it shook me. And rocked me and coddled me, I still have no dislike for it and for sure have a safety stash.
    Thanks for peeking in on me, it has been a long time.


  9. Continued success on however you publish!
    I keep telling myself that after close to 50 odd years that I should do more than just get a haiku or two published in my local Sunday Supplement Magazine…(or on prompts or friends blogs…) But eventually…

    I think writing could be an addiction – as I have to so every day 🙂

    Dreams can be odd in the view of nightmares and sleep. May our wakeful ones keep us moving forward in a positive direction. ~Jules


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