Listen II

Listen II

02/14/11

I.

Pain…

is the vilest restriction.

It stinks with guilt,

That can makes him gag.

It denies reasons.

It feeds hate.

He felt worthless,

And tired being one.

If one could just listen,

Then he may be freed,

From where he was

confined.

He tried.

But they won’t listen.

And perhaps they never will.

He knew he don’t have 

the slightest right to argue.

But he meant no pain.

Pain…the feeling he’d been used to.

To put agony in words,

There’s just no space to explain.

But for a moment of numbness,

He beg for a second of kindness.

He tried.

But they won’t listen.

And perhaps they never will.

II.

One reminds him of a mother,

Who always talk.

She boasts how lucky she is,

And brags how much she worth.

She prided herself up,

The boss of her own.

She too, screams on her loss,

And nags on her flaws.

But she never listens,

‘Coz she has rules to bend.

She provides.

And Oh! She’s tired.

Adding to her baggage,

A son she called worthless.

A son she nurtured,

A son she brought up.

A son who won’t talk,

But to swallow whole,

his pride, and be a fool.

III.

A man dressed in rags

Of shame and shattered pride.

Molded and sacrificed,

to live in a dependent past.

He was a victim too

Of denial,

And of twisted fantasy.

For what is expected at him,

He does not.

For what he does,

They appreciate not.

That’s why he has to talk.

To ease his pain,

And divert the curse

To his fragile son.

A young heart that was taught,

to listen on his bitter thoughts.

Yes! He will listen…

In muted silence.

IV.

There is a woman,

Who might have listened.

But she’s just too busy.

And has no time to ask,

But just to ignore.

She has troubles to solve too.

And burdens

That her world can’t lift.

That’s why she can’t listen,

because she can’t just hear.

Amidst the noises

The voice will just fade.

The only chance

For this tiny hope,

Is as frail as she is…

So why bother a call?

If the only one who can hear,

Has her hands covered her ears?

V.

One can also play deaf.

Young as he was, silent as he is.

He hears but never listens.

He knows but he complains.

He understands but just enough,

Enough to poison innocence,

and to bruise open wounds.

For someone,

Who for long played mute,

He hated the world.

But he fears his own hatred.

That’s why he never talks,

And he listens not.

VI.

A young man once promised,

to listen on his call.

He came unexpectedly.

He promised bliss,

With his tabooed kiss.

But the love he shared,

Strengthen the chain within.

He can’t be freed,

Because like him

He is too.

Chained.

Trapped.

Muted.

Funny as it seems,

Because the pain 

That boils within,

can’t escape.

Fed by sin.

And can shatter their dreams.

This man turned out to be

As pained as he.

And they both just listen,

As their pains talk.

VII.

Friends may have seen,

Because they always ask.

He knew they may have listened

When silence has its chance.

But how could they…?

If the questions never stop.

How could he answer them?

If what they hear are just muffled sounds.

Twirls of smokes.

Empty bottles.

They shared.

It gives strength

To the vanishing call.

To shout…

To spill out…

To burst…

In flame.

It weaken the pains,

But it broke hearts.

Resentment and guilt

Frustrations and pain

Will eat them whole

‘till nothing’s left

But the numbness

Of self hate. 

It will lock him in

Within his broken dreams.

He’ll keep his fantasy

Deny his reality.

VIII.

So then again

If the mother could just listen

She may have known

That her son had suffered long.

Or when could the bedraggled man,

Gives back the dream to his son

Does he ever know?

That his hope is dying low.

If that woman could just try

To silence her world at hand

She may have known

That she’s not the only one

Who suffers the same fate?

And that there’s no more room for hate

Or no need to play deaf

In this young man’s heart

Who has too, a broken façade.

If the lover could just listen too

Like the way he always do

Then maybe together

They can get rid of the pain.

Cause kisses can’t quench

Hugs can’t warm

What’s killing them inside.

A dying hope.

A dimming light.

Friends thought they’ve known all.

The deepest secrets

His heart holds.

And because they just ask

They can’t listen.

How could they ever know?

That after the laughter they shared,

On empty bottles 

And suffocating smokes

He confides.

Because the silence it offered

And the numbness it faired,

Together they can paint

In cloud and spirits

The fantasy…

Far from the pain

Of his reality.

IX.

The proud mother’s son

The shameful man’s own

The woman’s shadow

The young man’s foe

He is his lover’s lover

And his friend’s friend

They have things in common

Imprisoned in their pained world

Where the shadows of guilt

Cloaked their shattered pride.

Where the venoms of shame

Poisoned their ability to love

Where self respect and reason disputes

Where the silence rendered them mute.

X.

He listens to his mother’s complains.

He listens to his old man’s stares.

He listens amidst her noisy world

He listens to his hatred—too bold.

He listens to his lover’s reasons.

He listens to their endless questions.

He listens…

He never talks.

Because they don’t ask him to.

He listens…

The only thing they want him to do.

He listens…

He always does.

He listens…

Silence…

Silence…

Talk.

I’m mute.

-*-