Category: Prose and Poetry

In case I’m in a non-fiction sort of mood. Although technically anything I write might be fiction.

The Practical Poem

On By Swarn GillIn Prose and Poetry14 Comments

you see me as logical
practical analytical
well all of it is true

I didn’t see you at first
the illusion was optical
a vision so mystical
it was damn near mythical

you may find it nonsensical
but I love that your whimsical
you’re atypical, a spectacle
it might seem rather radical
but I’d like to get physical
so learn some physics from me

as a man of science
don’t think it ironical
that I’d take you on Sabbatical
that I’d start waxing canonical
or start humming a canticle
not to be didactical
but you might be the pinnacle
of creation, I’m not cynical
or skeptical that you’re so
completely divine

I find you just delectable
I’m not sure if it’s ethical
to offer a hypothetical
of what it might be like with me

you see my hands are quite magical
a kiss would be fantastical
I could make you feel electrical
my tongue can move vertical
sideways or concentrical
blood rushing through your ventricle
attention nearly medical

I like to get technical
and a little bit graphical
use oils that are topical
and explore you topographical
the hills and the valleys
and all that’s geographical

you see me as logical
practical analytical
well all of it is true
that’s why the only
right conclusion
is for me to be with you

Time and Space

On By Swarn GillIn Love, Prose and Poetry4 Comments

when time was time,
and space was space,
we couldn’t move from place to place,
a window on a distant view,
that is when I first saw you

when the past was passed
and there was no future
the moments didn’t need a suture,
raindrops pattered on leaves of trees
and gently did you fall on me

when dreams and fantasy,
met at the nexus,
we drove to the restaurant in my brand new Lexus
under alluring gaze I could not wait,
and paid and left before we ate

when love was love,
and muses were muses,
we didn’t seem to have short fuses,
but reaching arms across the distance,
takes its toll on your resistance

when cold was cold
and hard was hard,
all I could do was mow the yard,
and if I stopped, the tears just fell,
Imprisoned in my private hell

when peace was peace,
and breath was breath,
I buried though there was no death,
all it took was a little liquor,
to close my eyes and see the flicker

when I was me,
and you were you,
that’s all there ever is to do,
hearts will rise and hearts will fall,
there is truth and beauty in it all

Relativity

On By Swarn GillIn Prose and Poetry11 Comments

How long since the pattern broke?
Long enough to create new patterns?
I barely know what day it is
Time stretches out before me
But a week has passed without me realizing
Is there a specific reason to go to bed early?
We wake when we wake
Scheduling things feels like living
We should be saddened by this
I went outside because it was sunny
I came in when I was hungry
In isolation we have no need to coordinate
To sync up
Small distances make for easy meeting
Provided there are people in your house
Otherwise you are left to distantly socializing
Provided you can find the time
Seriously where is the clock?
I just want to sneak a glance
Days used to be numbers,
Now they are sunrises and sunsets
There is time for walking,
And noticing the thing two blocks from your house
That you passed everyday but didn’t appreciate
Because you were always driving off in your car
On your way to somewhere else
Somewhere else
The place you had to be
Right on the hour

wild spring

On By Swarn GillIn Prose and Poetry4 Comments

though the burst of spring fills eyes
loss is no small part of this season
testament to winter’s bite
some eggs died in the cold
a squirrel didn’t store enough
seeds damaged by frost

life competes and scrapes
building the colorful tapestry
plants will have lost ground
while others flourish
life takes quickly, others lose the fight
I am a player not an observer

the cherry blossom is still sweet
magnolia blooms with pageantry
shadows shorten in the sun
energy that sustains us all
I try to forget about dark winter
in deep silence I watch things grow

Message Received

On By Swarn GillIn Musings, Pop Culture, Prose and Poetry18 Comments

I’d like to broach a subject,
About something we all do.
While we might be social creatures,
Some folks make us mad or blue.

So what are the things you do,
To avoid having a conversation?
Have you ducked into a restroom,
Feigning troubling constipation?

Have you ever silenced your phone,
Or just tossed it in your trunk?
Claimed a received message was errant?
Then said, “Boy technology is junk!”

Have you minimized a window,
Or changed the size of the page,
Just to not even see the name,
Of someone who causes you fits of rage?

Have you said you’re off to bed,
Even when you stay up late,
Just to binge on your favorite show,
Or get rid of that annoying date?

Have you just replied “LOL”
Just to get the parlay to end?
Or said, “Aw, I meant to reply,
But I forgot to hit ‘SEND’”?

Have you ever received an e-mail,
But just didn’t give a damn?
And replied in the second one,
That their first one went to spam.

Sometimes you’ve missed a message,
And don’t want anyone to know,
Thankfully software has no feelings,
Or carries grudges to let go.

I am not saying that it’s right,
To act with so little grace,
But in this communication age,
We all need a bit of space.

And truly, people can be annoying,
I’m no exception to the rule,
And we often escalate the drama,
As our response just adds more fuel.

Go too far and you may risk,
Being without and job and all alone,
We need goodwill and interaction,
No human is a stone.

But there is no shame in practicing,
Some insanity prevention,
By not sinking in a morass of time,
From some acquaintance’s dissension.

Find your peace and your balance,
With your tricks and your white lies,
You’re going to feel a little guilt,
But it also might be wise.

If I don’t have time to reply
To your comments about this verse,
I promise that the excuses I give,
Are all very well rehearsed.

ribbons of gold

On By Swarn GillIn Prose and Poetry17 Comments

when I looked up at the sky
still bleary-eyed and yawning
a drop of light fell into sea of black
morning would soon be dawning

but still in dimness I could see
a sky nearly void of clouds
a stretched out figure in the distance
you were hiding in a darkened shroud

I felt drawn in to your mystery
mind drifting to anxious wonder
what might come of the morn
should I remain there under?

when impatient for the moment
it slips like minnows through one’s fingers
but flowers bloom when they bloom
and time is no perfume that lingers

so I carried on and let worry go
if I was nervous it did not show
I was as a leaf in a river’s flow
and did not tremble at the eastern glow

from silhouette gray and cold
for a time your form was mine to hold
as rising sun let your beauty unfold
and my eyes beheld ribbons of gold

Patterns

On By Swarn GillIn Prose and Poetry16 Comments

The Earth turns day by day,
In time and space we intersect,
The cards shuffle and a hand is dealt,
What patterns do I dare detect?

I wander in the endless noise,
And listen for the sounds with meaning,
Enraptured by a sirens call,
What patterns are my senses gleaning?

Soft gazes at the willow swaying,
My drunken mind, lines are blurring,
My body rocks to its gentle measure,
The patterns of my speech are slurring.

I draw the sweetness into my mouth,
The crystals on my tongue dissolving,
Unconsciously I wet my lips,
The patterns in my mind evolving.

I plunge my hands into the tepid pool,
Calm surface shocked to undulation
Abating ripples move beyond my sight,
Patterns are never without sensation.

At day’s end my memories fade,
So I drive into the setting sun,
I breathe yesterday’s air in deeply,
Before the patterns become undone.

And the planet orbits year by year,
Life all around may fall apart,
Though entropy collides with chaos,
Flawless patterns dwell in my heart.

Rhapsody #109 – Entropy and Disorder

On By Swarn GillIn Prose and Poetry30 Comments

Recently I wonder,
Why don’t more of us just spend our days crying?
I’m just so tired of being outraged,
But the things people do to each other.
It’s enough to really make you question: What’s it all for?

I’m also tired, of being tired.
But what right do I have to complain?

The very essence of life is survive,
And there are some strong people out there,
Who have been at the receiving end
Of senseless and unimaginable cruelty,
And there is a toughness there that often goes unnoticed
The toughness to choose to stand on this Earth another day
To try and move through each moment
While painful memories gnaw at them
Trying to drag them back down into a hole of despair.

And people have the gall to criticize safe spaces,
You can’t really know what another person’s been through,
Yeah you may be tougher, but so what,
Life isn’t all about toughness,
Toughness is just the cost of life,
It ain’t none of the flavor.
And everybody…I mean everybody has their safe spaces
Just for some people their safe space is in their head,
Manifesting into a black and white world,
Full of a few simple rules that will keep them alive,
Those rules are the fiction they cling to,
Just to feel safe while they rail angrily at everybody,

Word to the wise,
None of us are safe.

The only real rules are in physics,
And it’s like a chess board.
The set up looks ordered and tidy,
But the universe isn’t the set up, it’s the game.
We don’t know how the game will play out,
And it might amaze you to know,
There are more possible moves in a game of chess,
Than electrons in the universe,
And somehow the universe has chess in it.

One thing makes me feel better and also worries me,
Is that from the perspective of the universe we are all idiots
The universe is behaving exactly as it should
We are too,
There are so many mysteries about us to discover
And the universe has us in it
So many people think they understand
The nature of the universe
The nature of us
What happened to humility?

You may think now that this should all come back to a single unifying point,
So that the strands of what I said could clump together,
Maybe a hammer that swings down and crushes life.
But that’s not this universe.
The last time we were one thing,
The last time we were all the same,
Somewhere in the neighborhood of 14 billion years
We were hurled off into space and change began
Branching into smaller and smaller strands,
Moment by moment,
And we’re all unique and we’re all beautiful
We’re all kinds of freaks of nature,
And that’s how we’re all equal
And maybe accepting and loving that thought,
Is all we can really hope for.

And then I ask myself,
Is all this self-indulgent pondering of the grandeur of the universe,
Just a way to make myself feel better?
Maybe it keeps me strong to take on the world,
Maybe it’s my safe space
But if we all have a safe space
The best we can do is try to move that space
Into something, bigger and more elastic
With lots of blurred edges
Because learning never stops
And change, is our only certainty

Murder Addiction: Hollywood’s real problem?

On By Swarn GillIn Commentary, Humor, Pop Culture, Prose and Poetry22 Comments

Hollywood, CA – Today horror and shock turned into sympathy and understanding as serial murderer Harry Weinberg admitted to the public that he is in fact a victim of murder addiction.  Just a week ago it was finally discovered that Weinberg had been murdering young female actresses for over 2 decades, and police had thought they caught one of the most monstrous serial killers in U.S. history, but todays heartfelt speech by Weinberg softened the hearts of many when they realized, that like many of us or people we know, he too was suffering from addiction.

Weinberg is a Hollywood mogul known to many for producing some of the most prolific films over the last 30 years and owner of one of the biggest Hollywood Studios Mallowmax.  Having scores of great films under his belt it was hard for even this journalist to not give him some leeway after his impassioned words.  Weinberg said, “I guess you could say that I might be responsible for that first murder, but you know I felt I had pretty good reasons for it.  You never think that doing it once will spark a lifelong desire that you can’t explain.  Before I knew it I had murdered 5 more young actresses in a week.  It’s like it didn’t even matter if they were talented or not at first, and then it became sort of a game.  Like the more talented they were, the more I wanted to murder them.  It really escalated in ways I never imagined.  But now I know I need help and am going to check myself into a clinic that specializes in murder addiction and get the treatment I need…finally…it’s been so long…”  Weinberg then broke into sobs at which point law enforcement officer Sgt. David Wolski, who had initially arrested Weinberg, also became overwhelmed by emotion.  We had a chance to talk to Wolski after Weinberg’s announcement. “When I first started investigating this case I was in a state of horror.  Finding out how he took advantage of the dreams and hopes of young actresses who had no recourse but to trust him and walk into his home.  This type of manipulation is typical of your average serial killer.  FBI profilers made this quite clear.  But now after hearing about how he’s struggling with addiction…well to be honest I don’t know if it’s moral anymore to put him in jail. He’s sick, and he needs help.  Law enforcement will be meeting with the District Attorney’s office later today to discuss our next move.  But I think it’s clear at this point that a lot lighter sentence is warranted.”

Others in Hollywood have also come under fire during this scandal for not alerting authorities earlier of the murders that were heavily rumored to be taking place.  Several big actors have been named in knowing about Weinberg’s behavior including Hollywood star Bob Afflert.  Afflert, however denies any explicit knowledge when we talked to him, “Listen you hear rumors sure.  It happens all the time.  This is a tough business.  Sometimes people say it’s murder getting ahead here, but you know…you think that’s just an expression.  I never thought someone would actually be getting murdered.  I mean sure there are many days that go by where a young actress doesn’t show up to a set, but dreams are dashed 20 times a minute in this industry, you just figure, here’s another actress who couldn’t make it and has gone back to her farm in Iowa or something.  As I look back, yeah I can see now that a lot of them were probably being murdered.  It’s sad to look back and think of all those lives lost.  But no more sad than a powerful and wealthy man suffering from addiction.  I hope he gets the help he needs.  As a powerful and wealthy male myself, I realize it’s all too easy to fall into addiction like this.  Nobody is going to bring those girls back to life, so I hope that moving forward we can focus more on the help he needs and not the hurt he caused.”

Nevertheless public outrage remains high and questions the structure of an industry that could support this type of behavior so long.  They worry that Weinberg isn’t the only one who has behaved this way, as young actresses going missing has been a common theme throughout Hollywood’s history.  People wonder if this incident will finally change the culture of silence and looking the other way that has been a mainstay in the industry, or whether more young actresses will be murdered under the guise of everybody’s favorite cliché: “That’s show business!”

Ouroboros

On By Swarn GillIn Prose and Poetry34 Comments

Wandering through neural mazes,
I am always lost when I find you,
Your pose is casual, blocking the path,
Like you were waiting for me,
Knowing I’d be there even when I didn’t,
Reminding me of memories I never made.

In the waning days of summer,
There is a scar that I am thankful for,
And yet find it so hard to forgive,
It pulses along with my pulse, counting time,
I ache as the trees do, as the leaves fall,
Still I smile at the splendor of colors.

The things that you are so frightened of,
Are the things I love the most,
I held my face to you like a mirror,
A mere, still in a deep forest,
And you ran like a hunted hart,
Avoiding refreshing pools as your thirst swelled.

I am now bound to chase with no quarry,
As I watch you run with no pursuer,
Participants in a game that must be played,
Do I choose to play, or is fate unescapable,
I’ve tried clawing and surrendering
Neither choice gives me any peace.