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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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…
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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.
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.
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!
Sometimes all you need is for someone to understand you.
For someone to overlook the inequities and embrace the flaws.
For someone to let you scrape your knee and let the tears roll by.
Sit with you, laughing, when you’ve fallen, face down, in a muddy puddle.
Clap, when you’re on stage terribly nervous.
Hug you when you want to be left alone.
Walks in your shoes instead of judging you,
But never lets your selfishness go unnoticed
Holds your hand through the proverbial storm
Sticks a foot in the door when you’re closing them out
Gifts you a book, knowing you’ll probably end up weeping all night reading it,
Knowing also, that the gesture would brighten your heart
Sometimes you wish you weren’t loved.
I wish so much for you to go, and grow and be.
I wish so much for you to leave.
But somehow, somewhere it’s difficult to say.
It has been difficult to feel.
The possibility of a together tomorrow is tempting.
It’s tempting because somehow I know It’s unattainable.
And I’m OK with it being so.
And yet, it’s difficult to see it happen.
I’ve wished too much lately,
But here are a few more,
You see it doesn’t hurt to dream.
So I wish,
I wish, that when the rain pours down on your face, you miss me,
When the same sun shines upon your frame, you miss me,
When the same moon kisses you under the night sky, you miss me,
When morning comes, you smile, knowing I miss you.
When the night puts on its armor you let down your guard and you miss me.
Is that too much to ask?
I think it is.
You see, no one said love would be easy.
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?
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?
They sat upon the shore.
Looking straight into nothingness.
They were happy.
Away from the chaos.
From the maddening crowd.
They really were happy.
She looked at her friend and said, “You know this land is beautiful when it rains.”
“Well,” her friend replied, “This place is beautiful always, everyday.”
“Did you see that?” she asked. “No, what?”
“That!” And just like that, it began lightening.
And then on that summer midnight hour, it poured.
They danced together.
Two insane friends.
Danced on the beach.
Mimicking the waves.
So the waves,
They danced upon the shore.
Drenched us in laughter.
Breaking our hearts,
A million times over.
He was like the wind. The wind that caresses you before it passes you by.
He was the empty night sky. From where I see him, the stars don’t shine anymore.
He was the midnight lamp. The one that goes out when you’ve still got a little more of yourself to pour out.
He was the rose. He was also the thorn that pierced through.
He played with cards. With hearts. And anything that would wreck lives.
She saw a bed of roses at her feet. She was deceived. For they turned into nails…
And steams of blood ran across.
“A woman knows very well that, though a wit sends her his poems, praises her judgement solicits her criticism, and drinks her tea, this by no means signifies that he respects her opinions, admires her understanding, or will refuse, though the rapier is denied him, to run through the body with his pen.”
~ Virginia Woolf, Orlando
Do you not understand?
The poems are love, no doubt, but not selfless.
It’s OK to cry.
It’s OK to smile amidst tears too.
Someday it will all be over and they’ll miss you.
Wake up from your slumber you call life.
Look at the bright side,
Quit climbing the uphill journey of expectations.
You aren’t worth the disappointment.
You deserve better.
Sometimes you won’t be treated right.
Believe that you should be.
Walk away even if it hurts.
Don’t be swept away by pretty lies.
Don’t believe everything they say.
Sometimes beautiful words are daggers.
It’s OK to look at the reflection and feel ugly.
It’s OK to feel small.
But don’t forget to get up.
And walk again with your head held high.
But love yourself first.
You’re stronger than this.
You’re everything they wish to be.
You’re a woman.
So smile, darling.