Blood

Come, Ruin Me

My Nemesis,

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?

January 28, 2015 | Categories: Love, Misery, NaPoWriMo, Poem, woman | Tags: ache, bleed, Blood, broken, contemplation, Friend, love, Love Loss, Un-Love | 5 Comments

Sorrow In A Cave

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/

February 10, 2014 | Categories: Blue, Heart, Love, Misery, NaPoWriMo, Poem | Tags: ache, Blood, Bond, broken, coward, Death, Friend, Friendship, Hand, happy, Heartache, Hope, Hurt, life, Lonely, loss, love, Musings, NaPoWriMo, poem, Poetry, Prose, Quote, Story, Un-Love, Writer | 5 Comments

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?

December 31, 2013 | Categories: Blue, Heart, Love, Misery, NaPoWriMo, Poem, woman | Tags: ache, Blood, Bond, broken, Death, Friendship, happy, hate, Hope, Hurt, Insanity, Lonely, loss, love, misery, NaPoWriMo, poem, Poetry, Prose, Quote, Smile., Story, Un-Love, Writer | 2 Comments

It was the first time she felt the fearsome marvel of a man’s body. She asked him about his deepest darkest terror. His eyes glistened at the very thought of that day. After what seemed like an eternity, he answered her, with every detail and vehemence as though he was reliving that very moment again, once again. They sat there in the haunting silence of their hearts and souls. She had learnt of the most ghastly experience of his life and she could not unlearn it. She did not wish to. She did not need to.

She leaned forward and touched his temple with her quivering lips. And moving slowly like the orange basked sky disappearing into the purple haze of the misty cloud, she kissed his high cheeks, his sharp nose and whispered gently to his lips. And without contemplation, without any resolve or question he responded to her every silent command. She did not wish for him to lead, today was her day to give. For the first time in her life she was sure of what she wanted. She wanted to touch him, caress him and kiss him right in that dark, fearful part of his soul that had been so meticulously concealed, never to be revealed to any being, breathing or deceased.

His pain and terror wasn’t hers to take away. It wasn’t her intention to make it go away because she knew, more than anything, that she could never erase that grisly memory which was a part of him. A part that had been carved and embedded into the bottomless abyss of his very being. Memories can never be replaced, she could not replace his with hers either. All she could do with every sway was attach this memory to the unpleasant one he already owns. And maybe, just maybe when he remembers the original gruesome memory, he will remember this; he will remember her and remember the poetry they created together-alone that still night. It was the first time she felt the fearsome marvel of a man’s body. It was just like she always dreamed of it to be.

~ by Madonna Rozario Jansen