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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
~ By Varun Chakravarty & Mitchelle Rozario Jansen
Checkout Varun’s other works on http://stateofmaroon.wordpress.com/
Slowly fading, like the setting sun.
Do you belong to some,
Or to none?
Music drifts further away,
It’s the way of this world.
Never to stay,
Are you watching me smile,
turn away, let me cry a while.
Hold me in your arms,
When I’m calm.
I won’t cry, I promise you,
Please let me be
The one you go to
I’ll listen as you speak,
your secrets keep
Just one small promise I seek
You’ll say goodbye
Every time you leave.
Should I just let the door CLOSE, and shut out the voices?
Or should I fight, knowing it’s a lost battle?
Should I pick up the pieces?
Or should I DANCE on them and watch the colours unfurl!
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?
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…
She sunk further in to the mess she, so beautifully, created,
Every fissure carved out with love,
Every hammer rammed through with passion,
Every cut traced out and made with precision,
Meticulous detailing of the cracks,
Scratched out blue wallpaper…
She breathed the mess through her soul and it came to be!
Her inspiration, you ask?
Oh! nothing really,
Just her heart.
Just her old, tattered, torn, little heart.
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
It is you in I and I in you
Or is it?
Every moment counts,
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,
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:
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.
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.
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.
Yes, life is poetry.
And I just hugged the soil beneath my feet.
We’re afraid to face ourselves.
We’re afraid of what it might do to us,
Even worse, what we might never be able to do, ever again.
Once the truth is spilled from our lips,
Ones ugliness is made known.
We feed ourselves with pride and then with guilt.
We revolt harmony,
We treat it like we would an enemy.
But why should it matter?
We do what we think we should.
We do what we must.
And in doing so there should be no remorse,
Only contentment, that we did what we truly wanted.
There’s great joy in being who you truly are.
No matter how crude, lonely, gruesome, painful it gets.
It’s a beautiful melody when we reveal the true ugliness of our soul.
It brings a very evident change in us, celebrates our liberty and all that we are, is made known to all and sundry.