I’m riding a rollercoaster
Of consequent dips and climbs
Alternate periods of elation and despondency,
That don’t feel like they’re
Stopping anytime soon.
My life is an oxymoron.
I ace the climb with amplomb
Feel like every decision I make
Every moment I forsake
Adds to the track ahead of me.
A track that only slopes upward
To nihilist eternity.
My rise is dotted, cessantly
By temporal relapses into languor
Annoying snippets from the past
That tease me,
Turn me agitated,
That it’s only a cycle
An unheeding bottle of champagne
Drained; then promptly regurgitated.
You drown me in love, oh you,
You with your pressing hugs and depressive dishonesty;
Your childlike words or your adult complacency,
Your smile wide,
With mile-wide discrepancies.
You behave like it’s normal.
You’re uncaring by nature.
What you don’t realise is,
I’ve seen nature.
And the last thing it can be,
Nature is not you. Not one bit.
Unheeding this onslaught of worry
I pause not and hurry to the crescendo,
For I’m as much guilty of blame
For the distance between
My grin-wrought face and my sin-wrought heart,
And afraid the shame will push me to the start,
I bury the innuendos that scurry
Back and forth,
A frivolous flurry of double standards,
An army of dubious dopplegängers,
In whose midst, I, a hideous rider
Out on a tryst,
His very being frightened,
Tears and trembles a testimony-
Clangers on his upward journey.
And the fall. The crash.
What shall be spoken of the fall?
Oh, that inevitable appall,
Of building your dreams
Of timber and wood
And having them beaten underfoot.
I fell with the rollercoaster,
It’s a wonder I’m still alive,
My life shattered like the day I lost her,
The day she hurt my pride.
I pleaded with God to make it stop
For natural was exhaustion
Upon subjection to this storm,
Without foresight or caution.
The coaster turned, I soared up high,
And tasted fall in dust,
I screamed abuses at the sky
In envy, hate, disgust.
My biggest question was still ‘why’
Like any other victim,
And that’s when from the dusty sky,
Rings forth a voice that befits Him.
“You’re not special,” he scoffs, my God,
“Merely a punctured warrior
An aspirant of paradise,
That tasted a few sore years.”
And paradise is a corruption,
He says to a speechless me,
Of a time when He was in penance
And incapable of speech.
“What makes humans do what they do?”
An old sage asked Him so,
And He almost guffawed out loud,
Then sudden, spoke more low,
“It’s luck, my dearest work of art!
Neither virtue nor vice,
A simple roll of nature’s toll
A mere pair of dice.”
His boom echoed around the realm,
The slurs now more pronounced
The last three words uttered now burned
The whole of heaven down.
“Pair of dice! Pair of dice!”
The lines began to blur
And all three groups of letters morphed
Into a single word.
And this word is what floated down
To earth, and was accepted
As the watchword to push the hopes
Of those lost and affected.
“And that word is what carries forth
Their hope for the last ascent,
But luck remains your only bet
For being on heaven’s end.”
I drooped like a lotus withered,
My dreams a dried-up mess,
As god behind me laughed and jeered
My fruitless little quest.
Oh, had I ever thought that I
Was doing this for naught,
I would have thrown his idol out
I would, for hell, have stopped.
And life now ridicules me still
From this end and from that
If only I’d been wise, I’d known
A life without mishap.
A life without crescents and climbs
Without brittle sandcastles
Where I’d have triumphed everytime
I sowed a little thistle.
The coaster was my own stray waif
A child of desperation
Of finding purpose in this life-
A constant validation.
My fears about hypocrisy
Grew so puny I laughed,
A laugh that dwarfed every sorrow,
Turned every pain to half.
A numbness followed this, my heart
Grew harder than my bone,
If there’s no joy beyond the world-
Might as well carve my stone.
For this journey is wasted now
In hopes of one that wasn’t
Perhaps my soul shall find more flesh-
Perhaps it will remain frozen.
Something has snapped within my being
My heart is sliced in two,
And thus do I look for a spade
And shovel the soil through.
Slumber ascends as I descend
Into my handiwork,
I close my eyes, and try to see
What lies beyond this world.
Before I can comprehend
What I am undergoing
He places me within a womb
A ball of flesh fast growing.
And I’m thrown out, and I grow up
To be another man
Who’d soon be mired by the same
Quest for eternal land.
The cycle strikes again, we’re trapped
In an endless chicken-egg
Where the only thing that’s constant is
The tidal swell and ebb.
And life and death are tiny pawns
Switching roles in a trice-
I don’t know you, but I pray you never
Wish for paradise.
One can of beer and you question God like 😎. Again, it’s a rhyme. I tried to write free verse and internal rhyme, as is evident from the first few excuses for verses, and I caved, as is evident from the rest of the excuses for verses.