| namita Kiran-thuene |
Posted
on 18-Apr-01 09:24 AM
I am an actor.
I hold my Oscar
with a sixteen-inch grin,
hiding all the sin;
I stutters in my Versacae,
spilling my 38 DD;
I shriek, I fumble and I wiggle
leaving everything in the middle;
I am all-smile
hiding
a sixteen-inch dagger.
**********
Should the secret be out?
Should I let them
say it aloud?
The ghost of the past
Floating in the dust
Should I tell them -
stay cool, make friends
and, do not shout!
*********************
I fold my daily paper neatly
A perfect rectangle,
I hold it in my left had
Coffee to match;
Through the crack
I sense the world parading
In its all glory and gory
Within
and there.
*****************
I cannot save
Every piece of scrap
Every scribble and doodle you make
and every little shoe you make hole of
Dear Carla-Nina,
I just have to let some forgo
The box in the attic
must go.
*****************
Living itself becomes a burden.
They say it’s a cliché
But, how true I say!
*****************
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