Meewella | Artist

Zen and the Art of P

Alone in the Dark

The lights are off, the music loud
He is broken; his head is bowed
Hiding away from mortal sight
He wants no one to see his plight
Easy, for they choose not to see
Safer to discount such as he
In the dead of night the lights turned out
No need to see, head filled with doubt
In darkness nightmares are more real
Despair in day we cannot feel
Solitary at anguish’s end
The whiskey seems his only friend
But like all others causes pain
Burning his throat, burning with shame
Silently cries into his drink
Abused by too much time to think
Harmonies tug strings of his heart
Ready to break, his fault in part
He chose the songs that hurt the most
Now they become his tragic toast
To all the world, forevermore
To life and death, to peace and war
But this is not for what he mourns
Nor why with darkness he sojourns
He weeps for all that he has lost
The girl, parents, friends at such cost
A future once bright, now so dim
His tattered youth sprints, taunting him
Long ago lost his innocence
Now all the more he seems to sense
The evil of which the world reeks
The hot tears that stream down his cheeks
Staining his face, they leave their mark
None will see, alone in the dark.

© 2003 Priyan “Phoenix” Meewella

The rhyming pattern of this piece is intentionally at odds with the content, as rhyming couplets generally indicate a light-hearted tone, clearly not the case here, but instead it offers a strange sense of detatchment. It is the first piece I have written directly on the subject of brooding, after trying to explain to a few friends who inquired. I am describing the place I usually find myself: with a glass of whiskey in hand, crying silently to the saddest songs, alone in the dark…

3 Comments

  1. Jeffery Henderson

    6 February 2007 at 7:39 pm

    I too am often alone in the dark. I need the dark to breathe, to live (I think you understand what I’m talking about).

    Love what you’ve done with the form as well. The juxtaposition really works, reflecting the paradox of life.

    Keep it up Meewella (why are there no poems from 2007?)

  2. How utterly banal. I cannot believe anyone would indulge this with a serious comment. I take it you are an undergraduate?

  3. Jeffery, thanks for your comments. I haven’t heard from anyone about this piece in quite a while. I have only been writing prose for quite a while now but I may shift back if the mood takes me.

    Nh, yes I am currently an undergraduate although this was obviously written several years ago. This piece is not really being shared for its technical proficiency or for analysis but simply because it does actually reach people — a subject I have often discussed regarding modern poetry and its apparent failure to do so. Meanwhile I shall ponder the notion of banality as decreed by someone whose interests include “making miniature teddies”. To each their own.

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"As artists, we are eternally heartbroken."

© 2005-2019 Priyan Meewella

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