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 – **
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.
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.
Work like a Trojan,
Plough through the day,
You see, for love,
Life is a small price to pay.
Sometimes I hate everything
But then, on those days, I hate myself the most.
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:
Subject Under Focus ~ Smokey Semantics.
This Moved me to tears. What more can I say?
Dear Father, August 1974
It has been more months than I can remember, since I wrote to you last. While I have no words to justify my regret over my inability to inform you, as to whether I am alive or not, I feel a certain sense of relief, that I have brought myself to be able to say the things I will in this letter, here forth.
Much has changed, worth talking about, in the last few weeks but it isn’t worth sharing. It has no ounce of joy in it, or happiness, or capacity of reflection for anyone, I feel. Still, I have decided to…
View original post 729 more words
My contribution to InkBlood’s upcoming workshop subject “Lascivious Love”.
You see; letting go is never easy.
Love is a beautiful sentiment. You’ll know when it happens.
Sometimes, this love has to be nurtured for it to bloom. At other times, it just exists in its full glory. Either way, love is something you can never run away from.
And that’s what makes its beauty so terribly dangerous.
It jeopardizes our sanity and in turn, our life.
You’ve got to battle it out. Like a soldier on the battlefield fights for his life, you’ve got to fight for your sanity.
Things aren’t always black or white. They’re grey.
Love is that dark shade of grey you wished you were never acquainted with.
Yet it is the sheet tent you made as a child, to lie under. Do you know what I mean?
It’s an addiction, one that ruins you.
Yet you’re infatuated by it. You keep going back. You’re…
View original post 235 more words
Love is a cruel thing.
It gives you hope,
Then snatches it back in a heartbeat.
It gives you solace
Then drowns you in your own pool of blood.
It makes you feel beautiful,
Then shows you the mirror that only reflects the ugly,
Love is a saviour that destroys us.
The more you let it breed,
The more it will eat you hollow.
The more you feed it with your soul,
The more you’ll lose control.
Love cannot be tamed.
Tread carefully, friend, tread carefully.
My 30th and final contribution to NaPoWriMo.
Cheers to a wonderful journey.
My words may not be good enough, but they are liberating.
I want to sit on a bench,
Palms on my lap,
Smile on my face
And calm in my heart.
I want to sit on a bench,
When the storm approaches.
My 29th Contribution to NaPoWriMo
I’ve written to you several times.
Words that could tear you apart.
That could make you bleed.
I’ve buried several letters, you know.
My hands reached for you,
when you were searching for someone else’s.
You held mine anyway.
Just as easily as you let it go today.
Why do you lift up my spirits?
Why do you make me believe?
Just to go.
Stay for a little longer,
Hold me till dawn comes to greet us.
My 27th Contribution to NaPoWriMo
Sometimes abandoning that which only births sorrow is the best choice to make.
A wise one.
But then again,
You can’t escape sorrow,
You can only return a smile when they wave.
My 26th Contribution to NaPoWriMo
You are so beautiful when you’re vulnerable.
So glorious in your fragility
So serene in your sadness
So enticing in your susceptibility
So pretty in your inequities
So fetching in your wretchedness
So tranquil in your desolation
So charming in your despair
You are so strong in your brokenness
My 20th Contribution to NaPoWriMo because some things just have to be said out loud.