Friday, October 6, 2017

A poet's confession

A thousand voices shout
Inside my head
Like a Scrabble board
All words jumbled.

I live many lives
And watch my own
As a nonchalant bystander.

I'm a parasite
That feeds on the joys and pains
Of others.
I call myself a poet...
But all I do is steal
And fiddle.

From morning, I stole dew
And spinned the earth
A full circle
To steal a night.

I borrowed dreams
Created nightmares
But never slept.

Sometimes, I flow with the breeze
But mostly, I'm that stagnant stale city
That recycles itself
Through cheap marketing gimmicks.

Set the parchments on fire.

Saba

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