The Star

I stare into a happy abyss;
a blanket of stars
but there’s an empty breeze that blows,
so cold and harsh it leaves me hollow.

There’s a glimmer in the sky.
I know it’s you
because you walk a path of stars
once I can only dream to tread on.

Even the inky blackness of the Universe
cannot devour your radiant light
and the North Star writhes in envy
while all eyes gaze into your beauty.

On the ground I cannot reach you
but still I try and extend my fingers
only to greet an empty promise,
a broken dream, a faded memory.

Then one day you shall fall
and burn brighter than Apollo.
You’ll crumble into dust – into nothing
but no tears shall fall past my eyes.

See, if I couldn’t touch you,
couldn’t hear you while you sit on the sky
how can I do the same
when you’re on the ground?

It’s simple, really –
I am a human – simple and weak –
you are a star, can’t you see?
we were never meant to be.

The Creature

I have heard tales

of creatures like you,

with voices soft and tender

and eyes, deep and sombre.


But you are no nightingale,

a mellifluous song you do not sing.

For every note’s a sticky web

that drags and pulls with no contempt.


A siren – some might say you are

and I’m the sailor caught and killed,

tossed to float down into the sea

with dead eyes staring at your ethereal beauty.


Are Death’s hands colder than yours

or is there warmth in those bones?

Will my heart skip at its embrace

or like Icarus, will I crash and burn?


Yes I have heard tales of creatures like you

Yet a creature does not stand before me

but a man – a human

because even creatures do not treat love coldly.

Summer’s Song

Outside,

Where the grass sways with the wind

while it dances

and sings the song of the world,


 

Was a cat,

expressing its content

for the freedom it has

by purring with the voices of the city –


 

Like cars that drive by

with a whoosh,

then they’re gone –

a crescendo to that song.


 

Or maybe the voices

of many people,

with the sounds of laughter and cries of joy –

the melody that soothes our heart.


 

Can you hear it?

the song the world sings,

annually,

to liberate and revive our souls.


 

Go stand by the door,

close your eyes

and listen –

this is the song of summer.

 

– R.G

The Lucky Few

Do you know that feeling,

when he –

your significant other –

regards you endearingly


 

which gently unties

the knots in your stomach

and repels the butterflies

that make you uneasy.


 

How about when he touches you

ever so gently.

Do you feel the spark

that engraves hope upon your skin –


 

hope that,

at last,

in this miserable and lonely world

you actually mean something to someone.


 

If that is so,

I guess,

you are one of the lucky few

who hold knowledge of love’s nicer side.


 

For there are people

who believe

that love is an illusion

which leaves behind destruction.


 

That look of love and affection –

please, don’ be fooled –

it’s a ghost:

soon you’ll never see it again.


 

And when he touches you,

it’s not him showing he cares,

but a selfish act performed

in hoping that you –


 

a victim to the successful incubus

called love,

will award him with what he desires –

your body.


 

So when love bites,

cherish its fleeting moments of joy

because soon

its poison will take effect.

– R.G

Look at me

Look at me
And tell me what you see.
Am I a human being
Or a minion to bid Satan’s doing?

Is it who I love that defines me
And not the person you all see,
Who tries and tries to live in peace
While prejudice knocks him on his knees.

Are the sins that I commit
Greater than the ones you don’t admit?
Is my ‘race’ of ‘aids-giving people’
worthy to be always known as evil?

Am I unable to love and treasure
Just because I love the same gender?
Do I not have a heart that beats like yours
And hurts when you yell “go to hell”, of course!

So look at me
and tell me what you see
because in this world –
I’m losing my identity

A Storm

Like a storm he came,
Blowing away my thoughts
That love was nothing but a game,
And his words of love; his confession
Were howling gales upon raging currents
That tore my walls I placed for protection.

And I–the stupid fool,
Embraced the storm with all its rage;
Ignored my one and only rule
To never let somebody in.
For a storm does not heal nor mend,
It shatters and it breaks
And destroys until the end.