A Camel With 2 Humps - Poem by Leaking Pen
A Camel With 2 Humps
Is such a luxury.
Unlike my bare tree of life exposed lumps,
Where winter set its claws wilfully.
A camel with 2 humps
Made me cry
I was hallucinating
Nowhere on earth
I was a free Bedouin
Master of his desert
Or even drinking from an oasis
Quenching my intolerable thirst
With its life giving waters
And swaying palms…
Like hips of a belly dancer
And sand dunes decorating
The waves of my thinking
I am all alone confronting
Shifting winds of my mind
Stuck, with no movement forward
Like my life to loneliness
For here I am all by myself
With no soul to communicate with
What was that last song?
I heard on FM radio
When I was driving a stolen truck
And made my way to route 66
Picked up a hitchhiker who
With the barrel of his gun
Fleeced my wallet and my 4 wheeler
Left me alone once more
Miles away from any human habitat
With shifting grounds all around me
Somewhere in the Southwest
Raining rattlesnakes under my feet
And up in the skies
Above my bolding head
Rotating in circular hopes
Birds of prey on the look out
For weakly dying flesh
I'm crawling on all four, my demise
And here I am at this moment
A free meal for the taking
And how would this tale end?
As I surrender my soul either
To God or the devil by selective bargaining
The last thought I remembered…
About God and the devil
Fighting over my carcass
Which one will outmanoeuvre the other?
Add one more sin to weigh down
The scale of my blasphemy
In life no one cared for my body
In death my weight is pure gold
This whole nightmare of mine
Inside my mind…how it became
Ink on stolen paper, or a poem
If it could be called as such…
Posted on a public website
From the mind of a madman
Is this a dream about reality?
Or my reality in a dream…
Would some one please pinch me!
Is this my twilight zone?
I better end this circular tale
With no starting or ending point in sight
For as I reached the end page one
The cursor on my laptop
Froze in an instant
And my imagination ran out
Of steam like a train
Stuck on its tracks from fallen debris.
Old habits do not die-hard
I should not have drank all of my inventory
For the sake of my children
I won't list my alcoholic labels
Do come back and reread my story
For when I am sober
I will correct my typos
Shifting like the winds
In and out of my control
I see my life ending
With bullets to my head
Or is that a sugar biscuit
Tantalizing my tongue
I'm foaming at the mouth
My heart stopped beating
Here I am on a slap
Lying inside a freezer in the morgue
Exposing my nakedness
To a white cover…now my found mother
Waiting to be poked and pocketed like
The one life in me that had been stolen
And in need of confirmation by a certificate
That my brains blew out
That fatal night I lost my breath
And tripped over something with my foot
And set my house on madness
Took down with me a neighbour or two
Apparently I went ballistic
And stubbornly refused to surrender
Took few lives with me
Left and right of my crucifix
No I am no Jesus incarnate …
How can my drunkenness perform such a task?
Cops put and end to my story
With a bullet or two to my head
And a few to my chest
I thank God for public funding
I will stop writing my obituary
My laptop refuses to cooperate with my madness
And more tales of woe and despair
Came close to blowing my Intel based PC.
The chip of my intelligence
Ran out of ram memory
To collaborate with my story
And save to my hard drive.
For curious eyes' prosperity
The beauty of the human mind
It can go on rumbling
Without a single charge
No need to upgrade its ram or rom…etc.
When through lies and deceits I roam
Full of hot air to blow!
A great script for a big budget movie
Now Hollywood comes begging me
For I have formulated many twists and turns!
I have recycled their old ideas extremely well…
To what price should I lower my standards?
Oh Sundance don't even bother
Any agents out there…
How about tabloids like the National Enquirer
Or even better yet
TV movie for Tuesday family night
What to title my title
Took the easy way out
Default to the first line of my nightmare
My tale in 3d high definition
With full Dolby surround sound
Popcorn on the house…my burning house!
For making it to the end
And reading this poem in one go!
Without the aid of carefully placed punctuations,
Or mental health workers holding your hand
To allow you to catch your breath
And forget about mine…for a second
Bravo! Bravo! And one final Bravo!
Oct 2th 2001
Copyright Leaking Pen 2001
Revised Oct 24th 2014
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