Cynicism

When I Loved You

~ Iyan Igma

None wanted you when I loved you,
For they said that you were too mean,
An eagle that feasted on flesh
And could not be bothered to preen.

Though I discerned your inner jewel,
They saw only the rough of you.
I cut you with my expertise
And your own luster consumed you.

I made you see that you’re wondrous,
The meteor, not the crater,
Your otherworldly charm. You’re an
Infidel to your creator,

For now that I have made fine art,
The art says that it was not made.
You owe so much to my tender love
You immediately betrayed.

A Cardiologist

~ Iyan Igma

I thought you a cardiologist,
Trusting your opinion from the start,
Letting you cut in two my sternum
And cut my vital rib cage apart.

You clamped my veins and my arteries
To give a bypass because they’re blocked.
You cut out my heart for a transplant,
Saying the old one was sick and pocked.

You left me something rotten instead
Which has brought me to a tragic end.
You took my heart full of love for you,
And then just wanted to be my friend.

Ficklety

~ Iyan Igma

Oh, how fickle is a woman
Who never knows what she desires!
The love she gives in some moments
In other times makes her a liar.

She thinks with changing emotions,
But then wonders why I’m leery
Of opening myself to her,
Since she can’t see that I’m weary

Of playing what she has made games,
Not treating love seriously.
And the irony of it all
Is she thinks the fickle one is me.

Make Canis Majoris Dim

~ Iyan Igma

Just wait until I shine again,
Then you can’t bear to see
The hypergiant your black hole
Tried to snuff stealthily.

I never saw how dark you were
When you were drawing near,
Until I saw that light could not
Escape your foul void’s sphere.

Shine as I might, it was no use;
You’re sucking life from me.
That’s how I gauged your dark matter,
Which not e’en you can see.

Oh, bless the vector that saved me
From the clutches of death.
I’ll make Canis Majoris dim,
Illuming heaven’s breath.

I’ll prove you’re insignificant:
‘Twas you who needed me.
I can create heat and brilliance,
But you can only feed.

Every Soothing Iniquity

~ Iyan Igma

With sin and darkness as my bedfellows
I rested trouble-free and calm,
And every soothing iniquity
Was my soul’s own healing balm.

With Satan as my comrade,
I had such faithful company.
My heart was ne’er sorrowed nor sad,
And I faced life courageously.

But when I tried to lie in faith
Amidst such Christian company,
My face grew long and my heart wan,
And there was naught to comfort me.

Wintry Days In Hell

~ Iyan Igma

I’ll suffer with you tomorrow,
And we can gnash our teeth and yell.
Nay, talk ye not of your sorrow,
For it’s rare that I feel this well.

Keep your burning and your brimstone,
And maybe next week I’ll join you.
But for now the tormentor’s gone,
And a cold breeze is slipping through.

I think I’ll take advantage of
Providence to wet my whistle.
Maybe I’ll even find a love
Who’s not gnawed down to the gristle.

Don’t think I’ll sit on my fanny,
The victim of my own fear’s spell,
For there are only so many
Of these rare, wintry days in hell.

In Secrecy

~ Iyan Igma

No matter where it is you go,
And the secrecy you maintain,
And who you think would never know,
And how much you trust in your brain,

There’s always someone watching you,
Seeing the things you thought you did
Free of the askance looking view
In the soul’s conspiracy hid.

And as they spy they start to smile
And think of whom else they might tell
The perverted version to, while
They conjure up false sights as well.

Even innocuous actions
Face gross misinterpretations
By those who see mere fractions
With the worst imaginations.

Life’s Jack-in-the-Box

~ Iyan Igma

The music plays its notes so slow,
And the handle turns the surprise.
The air’s stillness is apropos,
But not excitement in your eyes.

Something clicks as you turn a note;
Your stomach sours and sickens.
You cringe, watching the lid explode
Like suicide bomber chickens.

The jack-in-the-box taunts us now;
We push his scabby head back in.
Someone winds him the first time loud;
They can’t help but do it again.

But sometimes some, after their shocks,
Forget to push the puppet in;
They’re scared by their jack-in-the-box,
For that is life, world with an end.

The First to Go

~ Iyan Igma

Innocence is your first friend
When you bump into this world,
Getting quite the concussion.
It finds you fetal and curled

And whispers sick lullabies
To make you trust everyone.
And suff’ring from amnesia,
Confidence is easily won.

Life and friends start to betray,
And everything is just show.
Abandoned, abused you find
Innocence was the first to go.

strangers as strange as me

~ Iyan Igma

my neighbors’ kids are home alone
the sweet one’s 5 the angel’s 3
i scolded them for opening the door
to strangers as strange as me

and as i walked across the street
to my dilapidated abode
a tiny thought entered my mind
which incessantly does goad

the scum of the earth worst parents
who beat their kids and scream
can still wind up with the best kids
while of kids i may only dream

so maybe if i weren’t such a nice guy
and merited no self-dignity
i might have great offspring
and therein lays the irony