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?
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/
Now what?
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?
That Still Night
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.
I, Me & Myself
Ankahee:
Patte jo shaakhon se toote
Bewajah toh nahin roothe, hain sabhi..
The solitary being doesn’t need anybody.
It loves company,
Revels in laughter and belongingness,
But does it need them?
It was forced to thrive in ruins and it did. Alone.
The self’s conversation with loneliness
Is one of great wisdom,
The colloquy of that which doesn’t exist,
That which could be,
And that which can never come to be
It leaves the heart brooding over meaningless incidents,
Scarring even the beauty that once was
And you watch
And you yell
And you spit venom
Because that’s all you’ve known to do well
Me, Me, Me.
I, I, I.
And that’s all that matters.
Right?
Sanctuary
I forgot where the safe place is.
It was burnt and caved in by them, there is none but just open moors and taverns.
Lost homes, missing havens. How do we find them again? You reckon, we never can.
Don’t we scratch the walls and extinguish beacons.
Build walls we can barely climb. Build the impenetrable cage of memories of a different life. Lost life. Rotten beautiful life
Skinned knees, broken bottles. Oh! How we climb and slipper and wither, these thought the choke how feeble are we to dangle.
The more we sink, the more taller it gets. The more we try to forget the more we feed the growing chaos. There’s no escape.
Just somebody put us down, the clawing on the earth of fable, for a faithless climb. Broken, distraught and hollow.
Let’s fill the pit of sorrow, with tears of the past. Let’s burn our present and our future let’s swallow.
Such shame and deceit, No honour in your crimes? We weep while you bask in your rhyming lies. We reap and we reap…
And we reap some more.
~ By Varun Chakravarty & Mitchelle Rozario Jansen
My 24th contribution to NaPoWriMo
Checkout Varun’s other works on http://stateofmaroon.wordpress.com/
Blood
I let blood spill all over my white gown,
My Hands,
My Temple,
My Feet,
My Paper,
My Morsel,
My Drink,
My Soul,
My Spirit,
My Life,
My Dreams.
I let his blood spill all over me.
My 17th Contribution to NaPoWriMo.
They came, they saw, they said.