I Bleed Words Sometimes

Blue

Heaven

Baiser, Passage Versailles, Paris, 1950.
Fajar P. Domingo.

Fajar P. Domingo

 

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.

 

Baiser, Passage Versailles, Paris, 1950.

Baiser, Passage Versailles, Paris, 1950.


Lamentation

I have seen the face of selfishness,

It’s repulsive!

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.

Mirror

She’s So Ugly

14095953_1070849909631601_9116327375689174467_n

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?

Never.


Desolate

tumblr_o0msplgk2s1v3p83oo1_1280

People are desolate,
Lonely islands walking about,
They lay barren
In the wake of the destruction.

People are foolish,
Blinded,
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,
Sweet irony.

People are desolate,
Lonely islands walking about,
Oh, how they lay barren!
In the wake of the destruction called Life.

nigel-van-wieck-940x606

Artist For Both Pictures ~ Nigel Van Wieck


You Smell Of Memories

Saul Leiter

 

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.

 

Saul Leiter

Both PC: Saul Leiter

 

 


Too much

1625467_942696235761024_3658108102813100371_nPC – 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.


A Gift No Joy Can Bring

Brett Walker

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

20140711-215005-78605371.jpg

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.

20140711-215249-78769155.jpg


Detached

20140601-233738-85058157.jpg
I feel distant,
Removed,
As though, I do not belong.
Worse, I never did!

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.
I fear.
And fear makes us do all sorts of crazy things.


Foolish

20140429-223618.jpg

You think I’m foolish,
I do not comprehend…
The things that transpire behind my back.

Let me tell you this,
I know,
I understand.
But it’s good to be foolish,
Than to be wise.
For this world sees not with kindness
On those who fight,

Sadistic ways.
Test of our patience.

Let me be stupid,
Alone.
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.


Sorrow In A Cave

Nan Goldin.

The rebellion of the sorrow in a cave, temptress on walls and a blade to succumb too.

Let’s drill deep, further seep, into the shell. So safe so dark so at home why won’t the edges blur? Why won’t the world melt?

Scratches along the walls, the wolf behind this cage. How shallow seems the sand and how horridly the edges peel away.

You can’t hear him howling, nor can you feel his pain. You can only stare at the ferocious creature. So tamed by his own rage.

Writhing in my own monstrosity, I envelope in the arms of heartache, Fuming I curl helpless, bleeding on my own page.

The wolf peering at me through the mirror. Is it me I should be afraid of? Or is it the human face that hides the monster?

Stalk slow, Die slow. A tyrant stirs, Resilient every feeling so crippled. It’s my wake, your memory and the their ripples. . .

So engulfed in your wrath that you spill from your bones. Blood to dry your tears. Hope to slaughter love. Laugh you sinner.

Jeer while you can, the tides may turn and the caves may light up. Hope lies in shadows of fears, dare to love and fear to breathe

Blithering wind. Scorching warmth. Are you not frightened of the agonizing, terrorizing nothingness? Your soul withers.

My soul withers where wombs lay bare, as pure as sin and half as fair. Stones unturned and sorrow I’ve had my share.

Yet I smile with my life laid bare. At your feet. Where you kick and curse. Sweet.

I scream everything down, the caves painted grey and love burnt for warmth. Hide…hide…hide.

Reality Eve Arnold.

~ By Varun Chakravarty & Mitchelle Rozario Jansen

Checkout Varun’s other works on http://stateofmaroon.wordpress.com/


Now what?

Tim Walker

 

Now what?

Should I just let the door CLOSE, and shut out the voices?

Or should I fight, knowing it’s a lost battle?

 

Now what?

Should I pick up the pieces?

Or should I DANCE on them and watch the colours unfurl!

 

Now what?

Are you going to just WATCH as I bare myself, moment by moment, piece by piece, one by one, to one and all?

Aren’t you going to stop me? Slap me? Shake me from my trance?

Do you delight in my reverie?

 

Now what, sweetheart?

Now what?

Is there no beginning after this end?

There should be, the stories say so,

Legend says so

History isn’t going to REPEAT itself?

 

But mama made me believe…

And I believed. Sadly, I still do.

This is going to CHANGE, right darling?

You’ll wake up any moment now,

Abandon your grave and hug me tight?

 

I can’t hear you.

You’re scaring me!

Don’t joke with me anymore!

Just SPEAK to me once baby,

Tell me love…

Now What?


I Miss You

Sometimes I miss you

But I guess I shouldn’t

 

I’ve only to close my eyes and I’ll feel your embrace

I’ve only to hum our song and I’ll hear your sweet voice

I’ve only to remember and I’d find your lips meeting mine

I’ve only to lose myself and my soul shall drift to you

 

I guess I don’t need to miss you

Because…

It is you in I and I in you

Forever

Or is it?


You’re beautiful

"Dialog"  Rudolf Bonvie. 1977.

You’re so beautiful.
And you deserve so much better.
And even though I miss you,
I’m happy for you and this new life you’ve chosen.

But I’m selfish and sad.
And you being beautiful just makes it all the more insufferable.

Why do you have to be so beautiful?

Heiner Luepke.

 


Living Or Dying

Lucy Reynolds.

 

 

Every moment counts,

Every word,

Every touch,

Every promise,

Every breath counts.

 

Enjoy it while it lasts.

 

Life and its uncertainties…

You can never tell

This mystery is some vulgar, beautiful, wretchedness,

We have got to endure.

 

Loving empties us within.

 

We forget that we’re losing strength

We forget that it’s robbing us of our sanity

But we give in any way,

Just for those few stolen moments of bliss.

 

Temptation. Yes, we’re tempted to enjoy the temporary glory.

 

Forgetting the eternal damnation we are calling upon ourselves.

 

Life. Love. Misery.

 

I know not of any other way of living,

Or dying.


A Love Story

What’s lost?
She didn’t mourn during the last rites. Numb with bereavement, she stood motionless.
They lowered his body into the earth and therewith buried her spirit.
She had not wept at all in days. They shook her, wailed, brought forth memories of him, but to no avail.
She had lost the will to feel…

Read and please vote for the full piece here:

http://bit.ly/16Cm8Sj

Appreciate it!

Pina Bausch.

 

 


The Walk

20131005-064845.jpg
I walked the path to your beautiful little home.

To our beautiful little home.

The overwhelming familiarity made my steps heavier.

Each step killing me a little.

I started losing parts of me.

At every step something went missing, an eye, a hand, a leg, my shoulder, nose, ears, arms, thighs, face…

Every step took away a part of me.

When I reached your doorstep, our doorstep, there was just one thing left of me.

The faint throbbing of an aching heart.


The Crowd

And when I let it in, it crushed every ounce of me within seconds.

I was a goner the minute I let my guard down.

 

It was as if the consequence I so feared were unraveling in front me at the speed of light.

And the blow… Oh, it was just too fatal.

 

I took a deep breath, again, in search for some solace. Ha, all in vain.

 

Standing there, in the middle of the square, no one could tell the tornado inside.

People indulged in the hustle and bustle of their own lives.

 

Babies crying.

Old couples holding hands walking in the silence of their love.

Young couples fighting over a trivial deal.

Children rushing to school.

Mothers scolding kids.

Father rushing to earn the bread and butter…

 

Standing there in the middle of the square, no one, absolutely no one, could tell there was a tornado whirling within.

The calm facade camouflaging the crumbling structure.

 

So beautiful.
So lovely.
So picturesque.

 

Yes, life is poetry.

 

And I just hugged the soil beneath my feet.


The Stage Is Set

Luminous Lu

She staggered through the desert, not stopping for breath, or water.

She recognized that the only way to conquer fear is to saunter on.

And so she did.

 

She held her anguish close to her bosom

A mother looking over her nursling

Glancing at it through the fissure

She wanted to ascertain her own desolation

It gave her courage.

You see, that’s how she was reminded of her mission, her machination, her need and her want.

 

Having walked on for miles, she lost all strength.

But she reminded herself, time and again, to not lose her will.

There’s some formidable power in misery that makes us do crazy things,

And do them well!

 

Hope began to lose its grip.

Because there was nothing but the vast desert, the sand, as far as the eye could see.

She began to cry until her tears ran dry and the sky put on its dark cloak.

 

It was only by the end of her journey that she began to run.

She could finally see the gallows.

Surrounded by voices from her past

Regret, shame, guilt, selfishness, greed, intemperance, love, care, tenderness were bawling their displeasure in the open.

 

Melancholy laments

Despondent her

She ran to her fate

Embraced it like it was her lover

Kissing it with a fierce passion

It was her time to bid adieu

And she did

With a beauteous smile

 

Now that’s a goodbye!


Stranger To My Skin

There's a lonely place inside ourselves.

There’s a lonely place inside ourselves.

Sometimes you got to be a man you are not. Sometimes you’ve just got to take the road you’ve never imagined you would tread.

Sometimes you’ve got to befriend strangers… abandoning friends and family. Sometimes you’ve got to be a stranger to yourself. It’s the only way; only way you can find who you really are.

But no one can promise you it will come to be. And you could travel far and wide and yet never find your place. Never belong and be lost for what seems like eternity.

But you’ll never know what’s attainable if you never try. If you never leave. If you sit at the corner and wait for happiness or even satisfaction to hit you like a wave. It may never happen.

Isn’t that a scary thought? That you’ll go all your life not knowing what you truly are capable of? It scares me to no end.

And some day I’m going to have to pick the pieces up and run, run like it’s the only right thing to do, run like my life depended on it. Run like death was the beast chasing me to a dead end of a dark alley.

It’s the only way, my friend, it’s the only way to know who I am.

And to know what lies within I will have to abandon what I build on the outside.

Knowing well that it took years of love, care, sweat and blood to create. Knowing well that once destroyed, it could take years to rebuild. That if I lose, and am forced to mold whatever is left of me I could lose the will and walk away from the debris my life has become. That I may not have the strength or the power of will to start from scratch. Lethargy could be my enemy. But these are all the ‘buts’ I’m ready to overlook. Because the ‘What could be’ is enticing. Like the tempting devil in the desert of life.

I will have to make my own journey now. Carve out a new path. And meet people I’ve never known. Go to a land the language of which I do not speak. Under a sky that isn’t mine. I will have to leave. And the Now could be Tomorrow, Next week, A month later or Years from today.

What counts, is that my soul is ready to make the voyage.

Maria Aparicio Puentes.

I’ll know in my heart when it is time to sail.

Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn.


Waters

Nastya Kaletkina

There’s a price to pay,
For every thought that passes our vulgar mind.

The sand holds no answers,
Yet we kiss it with our anxious feet.

We let the waters caress our soul,
In hope that freedom will be ours when dawn approaches

We let our minds drift with the winds,
They brush the horizon and there’s a momentary gleam in our eyes.

 

Hope is a killer.
A killer we mould with our very own hands.

Hope is the glass house,
We build or tear down as we please.

 

Is there no way to let our hearts go numb?
Is there no way to feel but not shatter?
Is there no way to let go off that which we have no control over?
Is there no way to free ourselves from ourselves?

 

I guess there isn’t.

 

So let’s move with the waves.
Let the cold outside brew the cold within.
And let’s just float away.
Far, Far and away
To somewhere we don’t want to go.
To a land or water or sky we won’t call home.

Let’s just leave to never return.


Admission Of Guilt

Joe Webb.

I have wronged you,

And there’s nothing I can say to soothe the blister,

Nor anything I can do to take it all away.

I have wronged you and an apology is futile.

 

I replay in my mind over and over,

The venom I spat,

The curses I yelled,

And couldn’t understand why?

 

And that moment it felt right.

 

But does that make it so?

NO!

I was wrong then and I’m mistaken now,

In thinking you’ll relent and let it all slip away.

Let it all go.

Like nothing ever happened.

Like it was all a bad dream.

And we’ll be us again.

Can’t we be us again?

Please.


Comfortably Broken

Christophe Remy

And Some Days I Like To Let Myself Be.

Oh, It Does Get Exasperating,

It’s Unnerving, This Joy Brewing Within

But The realization That It Won’t Last

Is Comforting

Turmoil Is Not Just A Phase

It’s A Way Of Life For Some People

Some People Like Me

People Who Don’t See The Point In Being Happy All The Time

People Who Don’t Mind The Ache

People Who’ve Found A Way To Tread On The Frozen River Of Sorrow And Loneliness

Self Enforced Sorrow And Loneliness…

Living Perpetually In Fear

Wanting Nothing More Than To Just Sink

And Get It Over With

But Some days

We Love To Break Away From The Mundane Obligation Of Being Miserable

And We Smile. A full, Broken Hearted, Smile

You See

Who Doesn’t Like Change…

Even If For A Little While.

 


Rhythm Of The Rain

Image

“I love the rains,” she said. “Is that so?” He was intrigued.

“Oh yes, a beautiful sunny day saddens me.”

“The rain on the other hand, I love how it mirrors the state of my heart.”

To this he sang back, “My dark cloudy soul drifts into the abyss of nothingness, going nowhere, leaving no trace, just pouring, and weeping a little, every passing minute.”

 

That day he found his soul mate

And she found love.