soldier in another’s war

dim lights shine on dark nights

the hospital foyer is silent

abandoned

i feel like a ghost, passing through

the glass doors unseen, pausing beneath the

streetlamp outside. its light is dim, yet steadfast.

wasted.

forced into labour by an unfeeling cycler

both of us keep watch in a world where we have no use

(or power)

we are pawns. disposable.

i sit on the cold metal bench beneath the streetlamp as

fatigue floods my bones

the bench is wet

it rained

is this a war?

i look at my scrubs, stained with the blood of a dead man.

i think we are losing

we all die, in the end

here, in the heart of night, the only sound is my own heartbeat

i did not sign up for this war

(this life)

to cross blades with Death is a fool’s errand, indeed

what child thought he could stand a chance

against the master of time? of this realm and the next?

death taunts us, allowing us the illusion of power

while asserting his claim when we grow too emboldened

the streetlamp flickers

death is here

to escape with a new victim tonight

my heartbeat quickens

the war rages on

dear alexa grace

you kept me up last night

again

your nurse called for help

but i had no answers.

you looked frail in your bed, iv drips running in

both arms and a foot, the central line in your

neck pumping life-sustaining levophed and

vasopressin into your veins.

you froze when i entered the room, your eyes

accusatory. ashamed.

in one hand you held a syringe;

in the other, you clutched a saline flush

the nurse started speaking about white powders, but

i didn’t listen

the monitors held my attention

your heartrate was too fast

your blood pressure was too high

how are you feeling, alexa? i asked

you had chest pain, you said. but

you didn’t want me to come near, covering

the syringes with a blanket

hiding them

we were both scared, but for different reasons

cocaine isn’t allowed in the hospital

cocaine made your blood vessels spasm

your heart screamed for oxygen

but you wouldn’t let anyone near

what should we do? asked the nurse

oh alexa

what could we have done?

what had you done?

so many nights you keep me up

again and again

your chest pain resolved

(this time)

and the white powder in your room remains unfound

will you be this lucky next time?

Starlight Guitar

The velveteen sky lies studded with stars

They’re dear friends of old who greet me from afar

Once I knew them by name, but now memory fails

I fumble through my mind but, alas! to no avail

I remember scenes, though, like postcards from the past,

Times I’d bare my soul to the friends I’d amassed

My starry-framed companions shed light on my thoughts

Dilemmas and decisions that tied my heart in knots

I held midnight monologues with my friends, the stars

Who wisely kept their distance, watching me only from afar

They’d listen non-judgementally, never once interrupting,

A friendship born of convenience, but supportive and touching

 

The stars remained there, but I moved on, and forgot

The kindly way they’d listen to my rambling thoughts

My fears, despairs, and anguish, my sorrows and my rage

Their counsel was unparalleled, trustworthy and sage.

Their lessons they taught well, and I never took for granted

The power of an ear for the aggrieved and disenchanted

And so now I am returning to those dear friends of yore

Seeking that compassion that they lent me before

I’ve come armed with a speech, but in a different form

One that I expect will take the starry sky by storm

Because I’m too old now, to go rambling to stars

And invisible ears (though I know they listen from afar)

Imaginary friends, like starlight, are timebound — they expire

And if a human heard my monologue, the consequence would be dire

That’s why I brought my six-string (along with ungloved hands)

A different form of a rant I know the stars will understand

Words are one form of expression, but music moves the soul

And as I strum and sing my songs, I feel myself turn whole

The stars (my friends!) seem to twinkle just a little brighter

And, bit my bit, I let negativity go, let my heart beats lighter

There’s no better cure for inner strife, no matter where you are

That’s why I’ve brought out my guitar, and now sing to the stars

matchmaker

you call me unique, tell me i have value,

tell me to summarise a lifetime of work into two pages

double-sided

check these boxes, condense everything into categories:

research

awards

committees

degrees

leadership

a lifetime condensed in two dimensions,

devoid of colour

a black-and-white page as i beg them to

like me

love me

hitting refresh on the inbox waiting for their acceptance

(part one)

my suit is picked out, the best my (small) salary can provide

is this too much makeup? not enough?

are my heels too high? not high enough?

everything is subjective, except one fact: i need to make them

like me

love me

everything i’ve worked for boils down to this game of chance

isn’t it ironic

the one thing i’ve worked hardest for turns out to be

the one thing i can’t control?

hitting refresh on the inbox waiting for their acceptance

(part two)

the clock ticks down to the designated time, sealing my fate

for two years

for five years

for forty years

this life is part chance and part luck

all i ask is that someone takes a chance on me

Daylight Robbery

A.N. Apologies for the hiatus.

–

A con man, a thief, he barters with dreams

Snatched in the night, while good dreamers sleep

His wares are uncanny, the product of lies,

A scheme fabricated to attract passersby

–

Have you ever dreamt, but couldn’t recall

The things that you’d dreamt of — no, no part at all?

That is because the Thief steals them away

Leaving your nights hollower than the days

–

He takes dreams of falling, of running, of teeth

Of being naked, flying, or giving a speech

He steals dreams of children, of babies, of pets,

So your nights are spent empty — of a dream world, bereft

–

But lately the Thief emboldened has grown

He’s broadened his sights beyond those wares of old

He’s discovered new dreams which are woven by day

These ‘daydreams’ he plots to now steal away

–

And so he sneaks into classrooms, waiting rooms, and cars

Stealing these new dreams wherever they are

More than just dreams, the Thief steals hope

The aspirations for the future that help us to cope

–

But these wares sell better, faster than the old

Something about them seems worth more than gold

They aren’t nonsensical (though far-fetched at times)

And their theft turns rewarding, a lucrative crime

–

And that’s why you startle in the midst of a daydream

Back to the grind, from your dream world unseen

The Thief steal your daydreams to sell with his wares

You won’t notice him until your dreams turn to air