Mondays’ Moaning and Blues

A voiceless left
A vociferous right,

in a slow motion, to and fro
the pendulum seesaws,
the eerie, scary silence swallows;

but in the clamour, I had found
a new consciousness around,

— on a Sunday when they talked
about East Timor
about the folklore
in a fit of emotional outpour —

yet I lost it the next day
I was so busy that day

I had to go
pay my rent
pay my electricity bills
pay my life insurance dues;
please do see

all I have were unpaid bills,
and I’m far away from the hills,

and I’m too unlettered
to learn or earn
to replace the pendulum,
with things like a growing income,
somehow I can help, break it anyway
but I was late and had to rush for work.

But I’m sorry before I can take my time out for a bomb blast, that now we are having yet another highway blockade. I should have taken my time out... When the ennui sets in—when there is no murder, when there is no loot, when there is no nothing, I’m surely going to miss it. I should have taken my time out.


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