All Froth & No Beer

(for Cyber Soulmates)

Clad in a quilt, I fill my ashtray with cigarette stubs
before the sun wipes gluey darkness off the sky.
Jogging around the Padma riverside walks, I caper
and watch fishermen in tiny boats fishing in the midriver,
and amateurs patiently waiting with fishing rods,
bamboo-creels lying beside them.
I see them surely gratified unlike me,
and their euphoria relates to what's found very spry
at the outskirts of the city where the river flows on course
ignoring bastards' philanthropy and strange things
happening almost around every corner in the city.

Nasty rogues look on me as just sort of dead drunk,
(one chap says - Your life's all froth and no beer!)
but what the hell do they think they are!
Yeats said things fall apart,
but I say they just sort of spin as in a whirlpool.
Grotty screechers make things spin around me.
Years back counting stars for hours on end,
I thought of myself
as one 'out of place anywhere, at home nowhere'
and of the steps I should climb in the days to come.
I find meaninglessness mounting everywhere,
and it runs down my throat with every mouthful like lead.
Yet never do I stop searching for meaning in the sea
of meaninglessness like a scuba-diver.
All that counts is to love and be loved in return. I am sad,
never insane to hate myself for loving life
or for not loving it much either.

Oh, fucking me! I scream -
'Things ain't gonna sort of stop dead in their track'
and never doubt of my status as your busy fool next door.
I rake coal-heated ashes to bring forth the ferocity of fire
to get myself burnt straight off to be pure as gold.
What shall I do with trials and tribulations of life?
How long shall I dig my heart like a wild fox?
I toss and turn on bed fighting nightmares.

Poetry by Sofiul Azam
Read 551 times
Written on 2005-10-23 at 11:07

Tags Anxiety 

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A vivid and striking portrait you paint here. So naked and raw, yet reveals a haunting picture of despair. Your work is stunning.


A very interesting piece--a raw view at life.

This is very interesting , you sound lost in life and struggling to find a way through it, also maybe some form of self reproach.