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.
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/
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…
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,
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 you got to be a man you are not. Sometimes you’ve just got to take the road you’ve never imagined you would tread.
Sometimes you’ve got to befriend strangers… abandoning friends and family. Sometimes you’ve got to be a stranger to yourself. It’s the only way; only way you can find who you really are.
But no one can promise you it will come to be. And you could travel far and wide and yet never find your place. Never belong and be lost for what seems like eternity.
But you’ll never know what’s attainable if you never try. If you never leave. If you sit at the corner and wait for happiness or even satisfaction to hit you like a wave. It may never happen.
Isn’t that a scary thought? That you’ll go all your life not knowing what you truly are capable of? It scares me to no end.
And some day I’m going to have to pick the pieces up and run, run like it’s the only right thing to do, run like my life depended on it. Run like death was the beast chasing me to a dead end of a dark alley.
It’s the only way, my friend, it’s the only way to know who I am.
And to know what lies within I will have to abandon what I build on the outside.
Knowing well that it took years of love, care, sweat and blood to create. Knowing well that once destroyed, it could take years to rebuild. That if I lose, and am forced to mold whatever is left of me I could lose the will and walk away from the debris my life has become. That I may not have the strength or the power of will to start from scratch. Lethargy could be my enemy. But these are all the ‘buts’ I’m ready to overlook. Because the ‘What could be’ is enticing. Like the tempting devil in the desert of life.
I will have to make my own journey now. Carve out a new path. And meet people I’ve never known. Go to a land the language of which I do not speak. Under a sky that isn’t mine. I will have to leave. And the Now could be Tomorrow, Next week, A month later or Years from today.
What counts, is that my soul is ready to make the voyage.
I’ll know in my heart when it is time to sail.
And Some Days I Like To Let Myself Be.
Oh, It Does Get Exasperating,
It’s Unnerving, This Joy Brewing Within
But The realization That It Won’t Last
Turmoil Is Not Just A Phase
It’s A Way Of Life For Some People
Some People Like Me
People Who Don’t See The Point In Being Happy All The Time
People Who Don’t Mind The Ache
People Who’ve Found A Way To Tread On The Frozen River Of Sorrow And Loneliness
Self Enforced Sorrow And Loneliness…
Living Perpetually In Fear
Wanting Nothing More Than To Just Sink
And Get It Over With
But Some days
We Love To Break Away From The Mundane Obligation Of Being Miserable
And We Smile. A full, Broken Hearted, Smile
Who Doesn’t Like Change…
Even If For A Little While.
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.
What is a man
without the realization
that death lingers near?
He is the empty street.
He is that broken glass.
He is the last chance we’ll never have.
He is the living dead.
My 25th Contribution to NaPoWriMo
I let blood spill all over my white gown,
My 17th Contribution to NaPoWriMo.