Cynicism

Small Jaunts

~ Iyan Igma

Childhood trips were oft painful things,
Even those small jaunts to the store.
Listening as a sibling sings
Made you vow to go nevermore.

The pain, the pain, but not from song,
But from bruised arms and wounded prides
When a punch buggy drove along
Causing large bruises on our hides

Should it be that we were not first
To see it and strike, and even then
There were times you were reimbursed.
Would this misery never end?

Were we hit again, we would cry;
No boy should be seen doing such.
That, in truth, is the reason why
We asked, “Are we there yet?” so much.

It had naught to do with the way
The ability to drive morphs
Your mind. What seemed to take all day
To reach, now but five minutes dwarfs.

Lo, herein lays perception’s key:
Five minutes of what you control
Are hours of captivity
When you’re a prisoner in soul.

Los Estandartes Tuyos

~ Iyan Igma

“Friendship is a delicate beast
That you must tend with utmost care,
Because, if it ever escapes,
You’ll wonder if ’twere ever there.”

You told me this, though much too late,
After I’d let false friendship grow.
There was ne’er reason to warn me,
As it’s something I well should know.

Time passed like strangers lost in mist,
And my little faults were revealed.
Though I’d been self-sacrificial,
Our relationship I had killed.

How? I fin’ly withheld the blade
I’d long used in sacrifices
Of precious, intangible things,
Being sure the past suffices

To build a strong rapport with you.
But you forgot all I’d given
The self-same moment,
And our shallow bond was riven.

That is to say when I perform
In a manner which pleases you
And live up to all your standards
We can be friends; if not it’s through.

Reprimand Sarcastic Pride

~ Iyan Igma

My teacher took me aside
After class in eleventh grade
To reprimand sarcastic pride
For the foolish comments I made.

She told me that I would do well
To be a little more sincere,
Or something more than school I’d fail,
Since I’d never learn to endear

Others and would lose my few friends.
My mouth’d get me in trouble, too,
Before my life reached its sad ends.
It got me married. It was true.

Mem’ry No Longer Avails

~ Iyan Igma

I travel alone winding trails
That I’m certain I’ve trod before,
But mem’ry no longer avails.
The past’s paths are myths, legends, lore,

And stories I would fain believe
Were I not wary of the snare;
For confusion and fact do cleave
Like fresh lovers watched unaware.

Now, I know not what I should trust,
Since man’s mortal, and love is frail.
But is it wrong to love a lie
When real history’d be a hell?

I can see how I would have crossed
Through the leaves and over the ridge
To see the imagined sights lost
By entering the covered bridge.

I see myself wrapped up in bliss,
Her hair and dress flowing, twirling,
And ‘neath the ridge we wait and kiss,
Hidden to the world that’s whirling.

We separate. I’ll come again
To see her, my heart’s decided.
Why lose her to another man?
In deception, I’ll be prided.

Look how I am covering up
The evidence of my coming.
Surely that must be why I feel
So compelled to break out running,

Certain as a groundhog’s senses
That spring is shortly due to be.
I run to her, but find fences.
Sorrow streams alluvially.

Once more to the path I return,
Quite uncertain what is real.
Why can fantasy make me burn,
Confounding the ways that I feel?

Why can’t life be hon’rable as
Fleeting dreams prematurely dead?
It fails, despite the time it has,
So I’ll prefer to dream instead.

I can make up my destinies,
No matter what I’ve been slated;
When reality mutinies,
I can muse, like it’s been fated.

For only safe within my dreams
Can I ever be satisfied,
For what is man? Truly, it seems,
Misery till the day he’s died.

Disdain from Wittenburg Castle

~ Iyan Igma

“It is easy to disdain from a sheltered place,
But harder to shelter the place of your disdain.”

I can attack your inherent flaws
Because I am protected.
With luck, you will change,
As I have not projected.

And from a secure place in my soul,
A speck tedious to locate,
I sit ‘neath a willow tree.
I weep for you and agitate.

I would shelter you from
This if I only could
Disguise the barbs
As satirists would.

But then this assault would
Have no satisfaction
By achieving an indignant
Or hostile reaction.

0°K Turkey

~ Iyan Igma

Women are pernicious drugs.
How evil the addiction!
You take ’em in your body,
And then begins affliction.

They change your mind and desires
With their chemical hormones.
With ease you grow tolerant
To them, and they will cause moans

Should you go through withdrawal,
Making you curse existence.
Once you’ve experimented,
You will have no resistance.

I’m going cold turkey from
You. It was sure good I found
You for what we shared, though
You left me after the rebound.

As I watch you go away,
I cannot suppress the thought
Of looking back on Sodom,
Thinking I’d like to be salt.

Surely it is worth the view.
The pain I feel is my fault,
For I committed the sin
When I let my mind exalt

You when I was suffering.
I should have had more control.
I had nothing to offer
But my blemished, condemned soul.

Now that your pity’s ended,
And we’ve satisfied our lust,
You’ve no patience for me, and
I drove you away, I trust.

Yaerick

~ Iyan Igma

“Alas for poor old Yaerick,
He’s married too young, too soon,”
Said one Fate to the Furies
Watching him weep ‘neath the moon.

“He’s hoping that one fine day
His sick marriage will improve,
But that’s like pushing on a
Boulder, hoping it might move,”

Said one Fury. Another
Said, “It only gets worse.
You have learn to live with
Each other.” “That was terse,”

Another responded. “What
Then’s the just thing to do?
Show him mercy letting him die,
Or make him suffer through?”

They bickered for a moment.
After a little while
They recalled their own loves. As
They left him, each did smile.

La Mascara

~ Iyan Igma

Behind the face I wear that’s Greek
Is a mask that no one would seek.
Unlike the hyperbolic smile
Extending like a plaster Nile,
A frown is carved into my soul,
And it thinks my façade is droll.
Discouraged none would e’er me deem,
But I am scarcely as I seem.
How often do I yearn to ask,
“Can’t you see behind my fell mask?!”
But this contoured veil of bleached white
Seems to deceive ev’ryone’s sight.
And I continue trapped below,
Because I cannot let them know
How depressed I am, day and night,
How young, how frail, how full of fright.
How this light burden weighs me down
And makes me ever play the clown!
Tattoos are painful to take off;
This mask’s far harder donned to doff.

Cliff Diving from Heaven

~ Iyan Igma

Is birth just like falling off
A cliffside out of heaven?
Do some of us stand idly,
While others count to seven

And take a leap ne’er looking
At where on earth they will land?
Do we cheer or cringe at their
Splash? Does someone take our hand

And vow they’ll jump if we will,
Though they’ve no intentions to
Jump with us since they wanted
To see if we’d follow through

With our pledge, and laugh to see
Our startled little faces
Disappearing through the mists
To unangelic places?

Were there those who double dared
Each other into flying
Off carelessly? Is birth here
Equated there to dying?

Were there those who did not know
Any better when they fell?
Were there some who wanted to
Get o’er with it? Do you yell?

Perhaps there were some anxious
Souls afraid of the cliff’s height.
Did Heavenly Father push
Them o’er, much to His delight?

Were there sleep walkers who took
The plunge by accident? You
Would recognize them, for they
Are clueless in this life, too.

Does your attitude before
Shape what it will be like here?
Do we have parachutes? Is
The landing very severe?