AIN’T A PEACOCK
The split moment between “will-be-going” and “gone”
Lies a clock of moment for:
That keeps bubbling up and bursting,
Like taking the test thing
And have you occupied with wondering thoughts of what to leave behind;
What will be needing?
Hmm this uncertainty is such a dire
And you know how it feels when the two adjudicators sit in judgment,
Each with strong proof and fact
To decide the fate of a defenseless defendant,
Forcing him to act
As per the wish of the judge who wins the case.
As it’s always the case,
Feelings and thoughts never agree for a truce.
Yet the old mug looks beautiful, with its memories.
Some bad and worse
As you spot that crack on the arm,
And tears of I-wish-it-never-happened
Taunt your face and chase away the smiles of the dreams you see, Each time you wish to cross the streams,
O’er to the land of the unknown,
To cultures so different from the ones you’ve known.
Yet in a dirty room you’ve adjusted to feel comfortable.
For you fear to bring your dirty laundry outside.
And pretend all is well on the inside.
But the bugs won’t let you sleep sounder
With mosquitoes buzzing all over.
Insomnia snatches away your wink
And the stench always hits you like a kick.
All these united in perfect harmony,
Like an army of ant colony,
To taunt you ceaselessly.
Making you wander about hopelessly
And following the wind as if in a lost boat.
But you’re just playing the stubborn old goat,
Who knows what’s right but keeps doing the wrong.
Addedly sympathizers are gone in your gloomy nights,
With spectators observing as you fiercely fight.
But they call you “buddy” when you wear their shoe
And dress as they would want you to do.
Meanwhile all you crave for is to
And be much more.
Feels like that celebrated sound; Freedom!
Yes, freedom to do you and be you.
The You, you’ve suppressed for so long.
Let it go, let it free,
Breathe the air and come alive with glee.
For there’s something beyond that pricky bridge you’re so afraid to tread.
Beautiful trees you see from over here,
On your wish land but out of fear,
You shake off the dream. But deep within,
An itchy urge is etched on your bosom
Like scaly pricks, forcing you to blossom.
Yet the phobia of criticism has you caged
Under the control of the so-called sage.
But in your skull a war is being waged,
That has the soft spot in your thorax in a state of dilemma,
To decide on the subject you’ve been avoiding all this while;
Whether you’ll enjoy “will-be-going” for awhile
Or cross over and be gone, once and for all.
But here you are, finally at the shore,
Ready to range over with vim raging from the core.
Not caring about the “hahas” in the air,
With heart racing and mind so clear,
You’ve at long last made it to the wonder land
Where the new began.
Slow it was but steadily with one foot before the other,
You made it out of the old and found You.
The You, you’ve buried to feel accepted
By the sages around, whom you felt were bested
Wait a minute…
Did I hear “you’ve changed” in the air?
I guess the birdy wind whispered it to my ear
Yes, you’re no longer that apologetic freak,
Who groveled pathetically at their feet.
You know how to say “No” now
And you sound so annoying and haughty.
You stand up to them with that no-nonsense look,
With a mind of your own
And they refuse to accept how you now decide for you.
Tactlessly saying what you feel with frankness,
Speaks of one who is rude and heartless.
But is it wrong to want to stand out
And be the masterpiece only you can be?
You’re not the same anymore
Because you want more,
Something beyond ordinary, so you now they abhor
And say you’re strutting your stuff.
But always remember; perspectives are not truths.
For their inability to understand the found You
Will always attract you the judgment of pride.
But forget them and enjoy your new found ride
‘Cause you ain’t a peacock.