We’re tough, heh or so we believe,
We can have abuses hurling at us and we wouldn’t flinch,
Be called a “Bitch!”, and nothing…
May be we even enjoy them, revel in them,
But some words bring out the worst in us,
They have us barking like mad dogs,
A condescending tone from those we love,
And we retaliate with anger,
We retaliate from inside our fortresses,
We tell them how we wouldn’t tolerate their inequities,
All the while crumbling.
All the while grieving,
Because we’re hurt beyond repair,
Left bruised and battered,
We mask our grief with anger,
Every harsh word cuts through us, but we pretend like we’re wearing a shield that no words can dent, nor scratch…
Funny thing is, anger can be released In a fleeting moment.
But we carry hurt in our chest, and ever so often we feel it, as we hear the rhythm of our heart beat.
Dum Dum Dum Dum
Dum Dum Dum Dum
Dum Dum Dum Dum Dum… Dum… Dum…
Do you feel it?
I know I do.
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 – **
Six. Love is knowing he cares even though sometimes he fails to tell or show.
Five. Love is knowing his embrace holds the power to heal every wound this world can cause.
Four. Love is knowing he will strive to make me smile. No. Matter. What.
Three. Love is looking into his eyes and seeing the compassion, the tenderness and the yearning.
Two. Love is being able to be me, unapologetically and still knowing he wouldn’t judge, or call out names. He will try to make me the best that I can be.
And one. Love is knowing the good and the bad within me and yet sticking around for 6 years.
PS: You never visit my blog or read my poems, so here’s me getting you to do both. Happy 6 Ady, and thanks for all the joys, sadness, craziness, laughter all these years.
She fell in love. From the moment they first argued and she saw herself losing. She lost to no one and yet, here she was falling and failing completely. not knowing what hit her. Love. May be.
The seemingly everlasting nights, welcoming the sun light like a mother embracing a child after a long day at school. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t lay awake without having him traverse her thoughts, to and fro. she was falling, my friend, she was failing completely, not knowing what hit her.
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.
Love shouldn’t feel like that, should it?
Is it me running away?
Or are the waves receding?
I’m left utterly despondent.
I fear abandonment.
I fear helplessness.
I fear being me.
And fear makes us do all sorts of crazy things.
You think I’m foolish,
I do not comprehend…
The things that transpire behind my back.
Let me tell you this,
But it’s good to be foolish,
Than to be wise.
For this world sees not with kindness
On those who fight,
Test of our patience.
Let me be stupid,
And away from all the games you play.
You, who claim to be mine.
I seek not your approval.
I seek not your love.
I seek the stupidity of an infamous fool.
Work like a Trojan,
Plough through the day,
You see, for love,
Life is a small price to pay.
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/
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.
Sometimes I miss you
But I guess I shouldn’t
I’ve only to close my eyes and I’ll feel your embrace
I’ve only to hum our song and I’ll hear your sweet voice
I’ve only to remember and I’d find your lips meeting mine
I’ve only to lose myself and my soul shall drift to you
I guess I don’t need to miss you
It is you in I and I in you
Or is it?
You’re so beautiful.
And you deserve so much better.
And even though I miss you,
I’m happy for you and this new life you’ve chosen.
But I’m selfish and sad.
And you being beautiful just makes it all the more insufferable.
Why do you have to be so beautiful?
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,
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:
To our beautiful little home.
The overwhelming familiarity made my steps heavier.
Each step killing me a little.
I started losing parts of me.
At every step something went missing, an eye, a hand, a leg, my shoulder, nose, ears, arms, thighs, face…
Every step took away a part of me.
When I reached your doorstep, our doorstep, there was just one thing left of me.
The faint throbbing of an aching heart.
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.