We’re tough, heh or so we believe,
We can have abuses hurling at us and we wouldn’t flinch,
Be called a “Bitch!”, and nothing…
May be we even enjoy them, revel in them,
But some words bring out the worst in us,
They have us barking like mad dogs,
A condescending tone from those we love,
And we retaliate with anger,
We retaliate from inside our fortresses,
We tell them how we wouldn’t tolerate their inequities,
All the while crumbling.
All the while grieving,
Because we’re hurt beyond repair,
Left bruised and battered,
We mask our grief with anger,
Every harsh word cuts through us, but we pretend like we’re wearing a shield that no words can dent, nor scratch…
Funny thing is, anger can be released In a fleeting moment.
But we carry hurt in our chest, and ever so often we feel it, as we hear the rhythm of our heart beat.
Dum Dum Dum Dum
Dum Dum Dum Dum
Dum Dum Dum Dum Dum… Dum… Dum…
Do you feel it?
I know I do.
I thought of those who had died in their sleep
Such a beautiful way to go
You rest, you dream, you leave this earthly shell behind…
I wondered how peaceful it would be
How there would be no suffering; at least in death
A thought crossed my mind. But I didn’t say it out loud.
Wishes are made with closed eyes and secretly in the heart.
I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep
6.30 am. Birds began to chirp. Sunlight beamed through the cracks in the curtain.
And I was awake.
Never have I felt so alone, so dejected, so sad.
What do they pick up as they walk through life leaving their prints on the sand?
What do they pick? Empty shells? Pebbles? The washed-ashore bloated dead?
What do they bring to supper? Are there fish to fry on the fire?
Is there kindness in their hearts?
Oh these are questions for the real, not the rich.
Or am I wrong?
Do the rich have a heart?
Do the rich have humility?
May be I’m asking the wrong questions…
Humility is the virtue of the rich.
Those in power either choose to be rich or remain so very poor.
So, let me ask again,
Are YOU Humble?
May be heaven isn’t a place so far far away,
May be it’s here and now…
May be heaven is a place where you get to relive the best moments of your childhood,
May be heaven is a stranger’s smile on a tiring day,
May be heaven isn’t a place… but time spent with yourself,
May be heaven is nothing but the feeling of being in love,
May be heaven is just hell, because you’re in love.
I have seen the face of selfishness,
I have witnessed the image of unworthiness,
It fills me with disdain.
Every time I look at it, I’m consumed by the insatiable urge to tear it apart.
I look at how pitiful it is and I wonder, how?
How did this come to be? Who made you? What made you?
The answer was staring at me through the mirror.
You weren’t here to hear me speak my first words,
But you heard me say ‘Papa’
No one ever did before
You gave meaning to a word that meant nothing to me
You didn’t watch me take my first step as a baby
But you helped me up every time I fell
Oceans apart you stay
Closest to my heart you are
Your smile, you laughter, your words and your silence
They mean so much to me
In your heart is where I wanna be
Every day and always.
Through your mind, I want to run
Every time you’re down
I want to be your smile
When cry is all you want to
Happy Birthday My Handsome!
Piece of my heart,
So far far away,
Yet so so precious.
Happy Birthday Papa.
PC: Christine Wu
It’s amazing how we are quick to judge
And seldom slow to anger
How we make assumptions and then believe them to be true
How we make our opinions our God
And worship them, blindly, in the temple of our own minds
How we give ourselves more importance than we deserve
How we do NOT give people the respect they deserve
How we think we know best
When really we know nothing at all.
Our mirrors are dusty, just like our minds,
We don’t let the new wash over us
And we let cobwebs of preconceived notions ruin that which can be beautiful
Understanding can be beautiful
Being respectful of other peoples’ beliefs can be beautiful
Imperfections can be beautiful
Ugliness can be beautiful
When will we stop judging and start embracing?
People are desolate,
Lonely islands walking about,
They lay barren
In the wake of the destruction.
People are foolish,
By their own selfish desires,
Unheeding, they pass each other by.
People are people,
Consumed by the worry of what the future holds
Engulfed in the past,
People are desolate,
Lonely islands walking about,
Oh, how they lay barren!
In the wake of the destruction called Life.
You smell of memories,
And when I’m with you,
The scent of sadness permeates the air,
Leaving me gasping for breath.
You smell of yearning,
You smell of lust,
You smell of longing,
You smell of thirst.
Darling, you smell of me.
PC – Anastasia Smurova.
Sometimes we love people too much,
Love is responsibility.
Love is ache waiting to be felt.
Love is a tragedy in the making.
Love is beautiful.
Love makes you do all the things you yourself wouldn’t approve of.
Love pushes you to the point that you do not recognize yourself.
And if that love is poison to someone.
It’s best to let it go.
Sometimes we love people too much to keep them in our lives.
Waiting at Chatrapati Shivaji Maharaj International Airport -T2 Terminal, my stomach was churning. I’d never been abroad, and definitely not in a place that many asked me to stay at bay from. The urge or will to go there was stronger than any heartfelt word of advice. I was going. And there I was ready to board the plane to Amman, the capital city of Jordan with a stopover at Doha, Qatar.
The view from Doha to Amman was breathtaking. See it to believe it.
Upon reaching Amman, the feeling was unreal. Touch down, but I was on seventh heaven. I couldn’t wait to embrace all the adventure that beckoned me.
Our first stop there was Madaba City. This city in The Hashemite Kingdom of Jordania is best known for its Byzantine and Umayyad mosaics, especially a large Byzantine-era mosaic map of the Holy Land.
We visited the church that had the huge map on it’s floor and it was amazing. The Map of Madaba mosaic was discovered in 1896 and the findings were published a year later.
The mosaic map depicts an area from Lebanon to the Nile Delta North to south, and from the Mediterranean Sea to the Eastern Desert from East to West. It also depicts a lot of old testament christian sites as well including Dead sea, Jordan, Jericho among others.
We were also shown a mysterious painting of Mother Mary inside the church, which was said to have the appearance of a blue hand out of nowhere one day. The hand wasn’t there in the original painting, and no body knows how the hand appeared out of the blue.
Have a look here:
We made our way to the church through the market place and what a beauty to behold!
I was mesmerized and left in awe of the cobblestone roads, the stone buildings the sky. Beautiful is an understatement.
** End of – Jordan Part I – **
Six. Love is knowing he cares even though sometimes he fails to tell or show.
Five. Love is knowing his embrace holds the power to heal every wound this world can cause.
Four. Love is knowing he will strive to make me smile. No. Matter. What.
Three. Love is looking into his eyes and seeing the compassion, the tenderness and the yearning.
Two. Love is being able to be me, unapologetically and still knowing he wouldn’t judge, or call out names. He will try to make me the best that I can be.
And one. Love is knowing the good and the bad within me and yet sticking around for 6 years.
PS: You never visit my blog or read my poems, so here’s me getting you to do both. Happy 6 Ady, and thanks for all the joys, sadness, craziness, laughter all these years.
When you end up harming
All those you loved,
And somehow leaving
Everything you once had.
Because selfishness is a disease.
Spreading through your whole being,
Eating away at your skin
Leaving you with a core, void and lonely.
And you look back
Only to see their faces fading
And you try hard to draw in every last piece of that picture
To keep as memory and to weep it all out
when the time comes.
But you can’t.
Your selfishness has taken away even the memory of a beautiful life you once had.
You deserve it.
Sitting at the bar, alone, you begin to wonder even you don’t like to be with yourself.
She fell in love. From the moment they first argued and she saw herself losing. She lost to no one and yet, here she was falling and failing completely. not knowing what hit her. Love. May be.
The seemingly everlasting nights, welcoming the sun light like a mother embracing a child after a long day at school. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t lay awake without having him traverse her thoughts, to and fro. she was falling, my friend, she was failing completely, not knowing what hit her.
In how many ways can you break my heart?
You surely know more than one.
And how many times can you stomp it sore?
You surely can do more.
How many times can you beat it blue?
Till my heart bleeds dry,
Until I forget you?
Sometimes sadness fills you up and the emptiness vanishes,
You’re friends with the wounding silence,
And tears do not seem like something you shed out of mere hope
That once this ordeal passes by, you’ll be fine.
But tears turn into the despondence of the one who has given up all hope,
And is no longer anxious, no longer worried, hence no longer concerned about the sorrow
Because, sometimes when sadness fills you, you do not feel hollow anymore,
And that’s a beautiful gift even joy can’t give.
It takes nothing…
It takes nothing for me to lose myself in you,
It takes nothing for me to melt away in your hold,
It takes nothing for me to be mesmerised by your sweet, velvet voice,
It takes nothing.
It takes nothing for me to go from loving you to despising your every breath,
It takes nothing for me to go from having you as my universe to shredding it to pieces,
It takes nothing for me to go from worshiping you to hating your every goddamn word,
It takes nothing.
You see… my love,
It takes nothing for me to go from being overjoyed by this life to being miserable and wanting it to end.
It really takes nothing.
I danced with joy in the rain today and then it saddened me.
Love shouldn’t feel like that, should it?
Is it me running away?
Or are the waves receding?
I’m left utterly despondent.
I fear abandonment.
I fear helplessness.
I fear being me.
And fear makes us do all sorts of crazy things.
I can let you go,
Cut you off like a useless limb,
Part ways with the most essential for my being.
And I’ll survive.
Boy, not because I can,
Because I have to.
You see, ego is that magic potion which will bring the dead to life,
It will suffocate and then bury with dignity,
But it will never leave.
So yes, my darling,
I love you,
I want you,
But I don’t need you.
I never will.
I will survive.
I will survive the cuts
But I will survive
And I don’t mind being broken
I mind being something I’m not.
You think I’m foolish,
I do not comprehend…
The things that transpire behind my back.
Let me tell you this,
But it’s good to be foolish,
Than to be wise.
For this world sees not with kindness
On those who fight,
Test of our patience.
Let me be stupid,
And away from all the games you play.
You, who claim to be mine.
I seek not your approval.
I seek not your love.
I seek the stupidity of an infamous fool.
Work like a Trojan,
Plough through the day,
You see, for love,
Life is a small price to pay.