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Tag: grim

A day at the A&E

Published by Ondrej on March 6, 2021

You came home, face ashen
a distant, hazy gaze
poured milk into your bowl of cornflakes
two hours before midnight.

The day was tough; at the hospital
I cannot fathom what you saw
your face’s shapes only say so much
seeing the dark side of humanity
for much longer than anyone should.

Your head’s spinning as you plunge the cold soggy mixture in
its tasteless, devoid of emotion zest
the bleak colours staring back at you
echoing the bleak day that you are trying to leave behind.

Gathering your thoughts as you try to answer my questions
but I nor you cannot comprehend
the thrill, the horror, the shock, the blood, the screaming, the sutures, the caring colleagues who also acknowledged this was too much for them, let alone for you, a budding doctor.

I ask myself—as you probably do tonight
can you leave behind this horrid sight?

Twenty Twenty

Published by Ondrej on December 31, 2020

Was this year a fool’s year?
A wasted year?
Has life all gone to shit?

Alas, for some, yes.
Many have lost those dearest
Many have little food to eat
So many are struggling and suffering
2020 has not been a good year for them.

While Jeff Bezos lines his coffers
and we gaze into empty restaurants
wearing masks aka breath condensers
life goes on.

For me, it’s not too bad.
Sure, few parties,
not going to Antarctica
and a bunch of other stuff
which pales in comparison
to the stuff others have gone through.

No bragging about me and you
Just spare a thought for those
those less fortunate.

Torrid untranquilities and ninety nice notes

Published by Ondrej on May 30, 2020

We’re a babbling bumbling band of baboons
doing nothing but complaining from our cosy cocoons.
It would be wonderful to whack our wretched worries
and the terrifyingly terrible atrocities of terror
us humble humans have hence held to hold
instead of crazy conflicts and crooked cops,
we really need ninety nice notes
from gallant gods gloating gloriously from the Garden;
then those torrid tortuous (un)tranquilities would suddenly stop starting.

Fatigue

Published by Ondrej on April 11, 2020

As the fog rolls in
you cannot see the shore;
much like when
you are tired once more.

A grey-blue haze
of midnight blooms
comes rushing in;
it swiftly swoons.

You dread it coming
but avoid it, you cannot
the ship’s arrived
ties you up in a knot.

Your time has come,
the slow bells of slumber call
run away, you can try
be like running into a brick wall.
Either way, standing or sitting or lying;
the heavy curtain will fall like lead
little time left for complying,
it cares not whether you are in your bed.

Otherwise, should you wish to evade,
it will not be lead next time:
the shrill whistle of falling stone
as you draw your last breath, alone.