Hope is The Thing at The Next Bend

You can latch onto the hard numbers, the odds that are bleak,

Or hang onto the lifeline, that at the next bend light will leak.

Both approaches will drown you, one from a broken heart,

The other from discouragement, neither understands hope is an art.

 

To survive you need to imagine, the shore in your mind,

It's better to be driven by a mirage, than to keep swimming blind.

But if you visualize the shore, on the very next bend,

The spurt will be exhausting, and you'll die before reaching the end.

 

Better to wear underwater goggles, the journey is a hundred miles,

The odds are one in a million, and there are likely a thousand trials.

Accepting the grim reality, will help you maintain pace,

You'll swim to finish the marathon, not sprint to win the race.

 

I can reach the shore for sure, just let me hallucinate,

If I'm exhausted, let me conjure anew, don't leave it to fate.

The Just World Hypothesis

I've been hearing since the womb, that the world is just,

We are elemental beings, and will be reduced to dust.

Our interactions are constrained, by Newton's third law,

If we don't suffer for our sins, there's perhaps a glitch or flaw.

 

I'm in chains without reason, the world is not just,

I happily share my last morsel, but others break my trust.

While I'm starving, they're feasting, the world looks cruel,

This inferno is dark and conspiring—they constantly add fuel.  

 

Whether I end up suffering or you, the world is indifferent,

It's a throw of the dice, if it's not us then someone different.

No matter how the die lands, the pain is but a given,

When there's no perpetrator, how can randomness be forgiven?

 

I can't live with this bleak worldview, I need my just world back, 

I'll gladly suffer for my past life sins, if in this world sins I did lack.

Transcending Facticity

Lines of code that used to dance, can't land me a job now,

Lines of verse have me in a grip, daily lead to feelings of wow.

Lines of faces I can read, without a degree it's of no use,

None can earn me my daily bread, this fact I can't refuse. 

 

Vibing is the new trend, I can generate code with ease,

If sonnets are out of fashion, with free verse try to please.

I can write a book on emotions, seal my implicit authority,

The possibilities are endless, I just need to display audacity.

 

The cold facts are given, the warm transcendence yet to come,

I live in perpetual bad faith, if I give credence to only one.

The future is not yet certain, the past doesn't dictate,

I have freedom to choose my cross, not bound to my fate.

 

I don't need to blame Freud or my upbringing, for choosing the cross,

That I can Houdini out of my crucifixion, is a possibility I can't gloss.

Thanks For The Tea

The monk sips the morning tea, thanking each leaf,

Drowning in the taste and aroma, of that moment brief.

The mind remains focused, the world stands still,

To experience that rapture, I'll gladly die or kill.

 

Dengue bit me hard, I almost rented the death bed,

Crawling my way out, I am now out of zone red.

A warm cup of tea, now tastes of pure bliss,

Once I get on with my life, this feeling I'll miss.

 

You may serve me exotic Matcha, but if my mind is elsewhere,

I will miss the elegant Sado, a ceremony both ordinary and rare.

Anything can become transcendent, if a moment you can spare,

But as the poet laments, where's the time to stand and stare.

 

I write for you daily, mine is an ordinary craft,

Would you recognize, in your busyness, if it were indeed high art?

Finding Meaning

Holding a job is not enough, is it another rung up the ladder?

If it makes you sleep well at night, so much so the better.

Preventing suicides is a calling, working in mental health tech a mere job,

Work is where your life gets spent, so don't let it of you meaning rob.

 

Holding a marriage is not enough, you need to master deep love,

Be a best friend, in-house therapist, a romantic partner, all above.

Co-parenting keeps you glued, you're bonded for seven lives,

Marriage is the meaningful thread, that tethers husbands and wives.

 

Love and work, work and love, that's all there is,

To find meaning in these, is to discover eternal bliss.

Spread your eggs across baskets, spend time on hobbies too,

The more friends you have beyond marriage, the better it will do.

 

You ask in your work and love, can you discover the meaning of life?

A better question—what meaning you allow, to your work and wife?

80 Tokens Only?

80 tokens is all I get, that's my weekly quota, 

If I exhaust by creating stupid memes, can't move further an iota.

The coding project gets held up, till I pay the price and resume,

That a higher tier gives infinite tokens, is it too much to presume? 

 

80 k hours is my whole work life, so say men of note,

10 k hrs takes to build expertise, another 10 k for my moat.

The tap of time will run dry soon, there's not an hour I can waste,  

There's more to life than querying LLMs, and indulging in copy paste.

 

80 k tokens they can regurgitate fast, as a novelist I simmer slow,

800 words is max I can craft, in a day if I'm in a state of flow.

But what about when I'm writing poems, cause 80 tokens is all I get,

Need to compress my vulnerability within it, and feelings of readers whet. 

 

80 tokens is all you get, that's the average lifespan,

Spend each as if it's your last one, you'll not be able to renew, O man!

Five More Tickets

I have never played blackjack or roulette, I'm a man of limited charms,

It has been drilled into me since time of birth—the gambling's many harms.

The deck is stacked against you, the house in the long run wins,

Like drugs it's strongly addictive, it's one of the cardinal sins.

 

But there is magic in buying a lottery ticket, the jackpot fantasy serves,

I know my needs inside out—no one better than me the prize deserves.

From the moment I hold the ticket, to the time the numbers are called,

There's never a dull moment, boredom and ennui from my life are recalled.   

 

When I lose this round, there's a momentary dip, but the next ticket boosts the soul,

To win the jackpot at least once in life, is my humble, determined goal.

Just yesterday I bought 5 more tickets, to increase my winning odds,

The weekly offerings made, now off to pray and appease the Gods.  

 

Writory or another competition, one poem or five others,

Enough of sending messages in a bottle, it's high time I win brothers.