poetry
-
A very Freudian poem
My old man’s castrating me today. I know it. I can feel it in my balls. The anxiety like unsettling waves of darkness making me cower and hide. Peekaboo, he says with a lopsided grin, and I want to tell him I don’t see mother that way, despite what the mad theorist says. There’s no… Continue reading
-
A not so pleasant drive
I’m trapped in my old sedan. It’s like the Sicilian Bull, the fires roasting me, and in agony, I pound the steering wheel and press the horn, though the hairpin bends as sharp as scythes stay deserted, except for the hard rain, the water like blood sluicing, the wipers like metal claws scraping the glass… Continue reading
-
One can hope
My anger has cost me like a dirge of annihilation sweeping across a coastal town with its multihued tiny houses, blackwashing them until beauty sets her sights yonder, alighting on distant plains, and I’m ~dancing on my own~ hoping one day I’ll fight these demons, beat them with a song of triumph — a crescendo… Continue reading
-
There must be more to all of this
I tried my best. I did what I could, she says, and my heart breaks. I want to hold her and tell her that everything will be okay, that we’ll settle down in a small cottage nestled in the mountains overlooking a verdant valley with a friendly golden retriever named Buddy. But everything crumbles in… Continue reading
-
Cumbersome
I translated the message using Google and it said something about film actors. I think someone has hacked my phone, my father says, his voice bubbling with unhealthy excitement, a rush of madness, making him see ghouls and eyes on the ceiling; evil, disfigured succubi and dirt and mud. I’m angry that he’s burdening me… Continue reading
-
A simple man
I cannot understand what you’re trying to say. I wish you’d rid your poems of fluff, obscure allusions and weird alliterative sequences and write in simple sentences. Better yet, I wish you’d give up poetry altogether and start writing prose. I don’t get why you must say, the son of perdition spitefully looks down at… Continue reading
-
Blah Blah Blah
My friend took me to meet a pastor who cooks great wild boar, and as the man grilled me on what I did and what I plan to do (the usual Indian ‘uncle’ questions), I wanted to be anywhere but there, but today, I realised that I always want to be anywhere but where I… Continue reading
-
Change
I’m seeing another psychiatrist tomorrow to solve a more than a decade problem of sleepless nights, anxiety badly harmonising with my soul’s music, and depression feeding on my energy like a leech, getting fat while I become emotionally malnourished and eat and smoke and drink, hoping pork chops, Marlboro Reds and wine will become a… Continue reading
-
anything/something/nothing
I sit on my balcony tonight smoking, thinking of all the lives I’ve led in my lifetime, all the roles I’ve played, the cards I’ve drawn — The naïve young man who lusted with an unmitigated possessiveness and rationalised that it was love. All I wanted then were her curves and the taste of her… Continue reading
-
Matters of the heart
I can’t make you my everything because I don’t need you to save me. I don’t want to make you an object of adoration like I’ve done the others, worshiping you until I give away bits of myself, pieces and pieces of truth, replacing them with fierce falsehood that masquerades as a holy glow like… Continue reading
About Me
Ordinary Person is a guy who likes to write. He writes fiction, essays, poems and other stuff.
Ordinary Person 