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.
-*-
