An Insufficient Explanation

Suicide.

Who asks to be born, brought into being,

suffering belligerent existence because of begetters,

fathers long blind to feelings, beliefs, dreams

of begotten children who daily

cry question and kill

and love and die

while mothers betray their charge by coiling

birthing cords around babies’ dreams?

Who asks to be forced to comply

and feel like a crazy f****t kafir

whose humanity is forcibly discarded, ripped and torn away

at confession of disbelief, doubt or

consensual sexuality separate from surrogate society?

Raised in conditions conducive to unconditional divine love -

we’re f*****g dough, rising, only to be chucked into ovens and baked for eternity -

Childhood memories of prayer to absent guardians,

grimly hoping for halting of gayness,

 hardened heart resulting from gross hardships,

  mothers’ undried eternal rivers of tears, here,

   forever near abusive husband dear

    The All-Father: sees all yet fathers none

Who asks to stay behind the wheel of a burning car headed towards cliff’s edge

when the decision has been made,

skin-documents signed with blades, blood-ink stains slowly dissolving

the will to drive?

When medicine, humanity’s cure for the curse of humanity,

overflows in veins tired and heart chambers dry,

is the approaching light then a beacon for beyond, bringing slumber eternal,

or just fluorescent fireflies, halogen lamps in hospital wards, wings filled with

crazies and f*****s and kafirs

souls trapped in locked cages that’ve lost their keys?

To force mountain-smiles on landscapes long flat and barren

exhausts me;

Flying and flitting between fleeting feelings of familiarity and content

to dark dungeons drowning in deluge of emotions, displacement and otherness

confuses me;

How often I blunder drunkenly through darkness to bed for sleeping,

only to stay wide asleep and dream lucidly of another world, a fantasy

realm where money isn’t real; or real money doesn’t break hearts

where open wallets give way to wonders,

like three meals and degrees and memories

with people whose stomachs have never known empty sleep

 or meals of poverty, seasoned with mother’s tears

Reviews

[k.s.]

I love how your words are full of raw emotion in this poem. "Raised in conditions conducive to unconditional divine love -
we’re f*****g dough, rising, only to be chucked into ovens and baked for eternity - " was my absolute favorite line and this whole poem really resonates with me thank you for sharing!

[Sergei]

THank you so much for your review! I'm glad that it resonates with you and that you can actually buy into the content.
Those lines were actually my favourite to write as well. I'm glad you recognise it.