|//Drowning in, from the pleasure of penning down to the torture of falling in.\\|
// CAPTION TO WILLIAM \\
Coming out from the hideousness of the world, which captured yet another picturesque memory in his mind; he worked his way into becoming a more man in himself, a man the world thought ceased to ever exist.
And however seemingly unrealistic that sounded, when he almost wanted to give up, there came an angel in disguise, an angel unwelcomed as a person, but more human than ever.
She began to soothe his soul and calm his body. It was an essentiality that was due overtime. Moreover for the first time, acceptance came into existence. Acceptance of love, and there started the ever forgotten story of fighting for the chosen ones and the actual story of embarking love that...
It was the rush of things, that tensed her. Small things made her happy. Not money and success like everyone said. She tortured herself to match people's demands. It was sheer stupidity. Trying to do things to impress people, just so they could talk behind your back and not on your face. Yes, it is then.
She liked things smoother. One of those earthy people who dropped every hope from others. Never said anything about anyone, had the balls to hear from people on her face.
She walked into her room. Untieing her back lace, unzipping her dress, and sliding it down her fair oiled body. She brushed her hair with her fingers, pulled her brown hair up looking a...
""A knock on the door, and words of wisdom. That so happens, when you think you're being pulled down; but you're not. It's incompetency, you. You think you can not do it, that you don't have calibur. That all this is a simple dream, that you're going to wake up any moment now. But, let me tell you that this dream, is 'the' dream that you're living. Bad, pressurizing,tormenting or whatever is it that you feel— you're wasting valuable time. Time of importance. I will not lecture you at all Anna, because that is one thing that wouldn't help. What would in fact help is this."
He kept the letter beside my palm, and left the room. And all I was left with was a grey dusty envelope with a small red...
To this day she stands where the mighty had fallen.
Rising from the boundaries of the destroyed loner's capacity of what yet needed to be accomplished.
Could it be a test of tests?
Demolishing her confidence over whimsical people crying over their want of subduing deaths?
How long had it been for her to remain a part of this parallel world?
Long enough, till she strengthened herself to a more simpler part of the show.
What is oblivious to this mighty world is paradoxical to their own fancies.
They cry, they crib, they let down themselves over cries of mere luxuries.
They say for now she rests in her tomb,
her tomb of the greater good demarcating lines of hur...
I'd rather not crib, because every time I crib, I die, like the lily on the vine.
I'd rather not rush, into any lies that i design because every time I rush, I die like the lily on the vine.
I'd rather not cry for any tear I lose, looses its strength because every time I cry, I die like the lily on the vine.
I'd rather not love, because love tempts you harder to die like the lily on the vine!
For I am, was and will forever be the vine.,
looking for the lily which died long;
as it touched me blind in hopeless daylight!
/MY LOST FRIEND OF THE CROWD\
"I remembered him mixing with the bad crowd, yet,
he never turned bad.
The crowd turned worse, that's why he marked them in red.
He was my friend, never a suicide bomber.
They wanted revenge, him- solace.
Never knew, it would all end up in the same place.
Forgive him, if you can.
He was a mere child of fifteen.
Now only the Satan had the audacity to turn on a new leaf."
I finished my part and sat back on the dusty chair.
I was sitting on the same place we used to sit while judging every passer by.
They hate him now unaware,
it was never his fault.
My ears keep bleeding,
As all they do is shout.
How do I protect him now?
He's my lost friend of...
// FAIRY DUST \\
Just to see how the light lit you up.
from the darkest of caves of suffer,
to the brightest of sunrise of the cold.
I would love you everyday, for another would shine.
I would want you everyday, for I'd see you smile
I'd master every curve of yours,
the day you'd be wearing white, walking down an aisle,
looking like a bride of wine.
But until then, I'll keep looking at you,
you, ignorant of my existence.
I'll love from afar,
until my love, comes to you as a memoir of gold words stumbling from bright to dark;
Only for that forever's want,
to yours truly,
With fairy dust that sparkled around in a dreary war!
//// Waited love\\
I've been looking at the stars long now.
Waiting in anticipation.
For maybe, you'd come running at the brink of dawn and I'd be forever waiting?
This life has been uncanny.
Driving in rhythms of torture.
How do I tell you I do believe?
In first sights and love,after?
Maybe I'm being too dramatic.
Maybe the time hasn't been right.
If I give you the option to leave,
Would you still hang on tight?
Because I'd be here,
Locking my fingers around yours.
Love is a four letter word,
But never has it made me count hours.
I've been waiting so long,
To breathe in the same air as you.
I'm loving you now,
Could you see me in full scarred truth?
I may be too dram...
// WHAT IF : The insignificant half \\
What if I hadn't opened the door for her that day? Would it have made a difference in me being insignificant to her?
What if, all the times, she piggybacked on me, and I crumbled underneath my voracious smile, hoping one day for her to reciprocate it, would she?
What if under all the drama that I put her through, did she ever get a hint of my love towards her?
Maybe she could have. Maybe all these unspoken scarved gestures would have reached to her, if I were who she could potentially like.
What if, she would've lived through another day, would I have ever even told her?
I look at her grave everyday now, shedding a tear to my broken heart an...
/// *THE ROSE* \\\
The rose burnt hue shade of the coffin had addressed the gathering in itself. The silence that spoke amongst the tears of the many who cried their silent cries on losing their wholes abandoned their hope of survival.
"She was a bright soul," someone had whispered and I nodded in acceptance.
Bright indeed, to have crawled to one day walk. To have walked, to one day run. To have drowned, to one day swim. To have been clothe-shamed to wear that one in particular. Do I still remember her in that dress?
Bright indeed, to have one day walked that aisle in white, so white it hid her blues.
I couldn't take it in, how could I really?
" We could say she would forever...
" I was a shadow chasing it's dream envisioning what could have and couldn't have become. I let in dark humors, emo life and sarcasm sensed grief which led me to believe killing myself could heal all wounds. All -of the world, of family, of me—and of the soul. Because of a mighty million, I chose to scatter my dreams into pages of unread books I turned everyday in my life. I could've read them."
"Could've lived them. But chose not to. Is that okay? I gave up once. But now I'm sitting here with you analysing. Is it okay?"- Sarah had said mockingly to her therapist.
" Does it satisfy you finally? Looking down upon your world weeping? Regardless of them weeping for a few da...
THE FOREVER'S WANT.
The dusted notes that rested upon my table quiet, reminded me of the sacred conversations I remembered over the years.
Maybe, not quite like the ones i hoped for; more like unspoken words on the tip of my tongue but never into words. No.
Out of those many one sided mind conversations, did this one is particular lay somewhere hiding in the corner:
"It wouldn't be perfect if you just glanced at me, it would be- if you looked at me and wanted to look for forever.
Regardless of forever's desire of staying put.
No, just stay until you can. Until you truly want.
I'd hang in.
And if somehow I can't live up to that promise don't cry over my grave because I always adored...
I wondered, for too long.
If pain that a girl succumbs to is mockery to laugh upon.
Because why would they not comment on girls?
They're obviously aware, we are the souls cursed.
Forgetting who brought them into this world.
It was the same vagina that bled,
The same breasts that fed,
The same mouths that kissed and the same woman who they felt was a bliss.
Mother, yes? Don't say a word about her.
Or we'll rape you, shame you and throw you to the ends of the world.
We are the hypocrites of this universe.
We enjoy and watch the same item songs, and degrade anyone who wears the same look upon.
We are the hypocrites. Yes?
It couldve been easier to hold my head up high.
Walk the s...
I'll write her like she's never been written before.
A haven like the paradise was.
In sweet memory of the lone souls,
With love carved inside their walls
To conquer, meant to leave behind.
To survive, meant to bear on.
To live, meant to escape.
And to die, meant to wither off.
If I didn't have you, would you never realise?
If I forgot to love, would you remind me gently?
If I left, would you crawl me back?
If I died, would you carve my name on a stone lovingly?
Why does the moon fall when the wolf tries to call?
Why does memory fail when you have no around?
Why does leaving behind memories mark in scars?
Why does dying mean so much more in a war?
"Because if the moon waited for the wolf, I wouldn't get up to see you, to conquer, to realise.
Because if the I don't forget how to love, I wouldn't fall everyday.
SADISTIC TURN OF LETHAL EVENTS
He clung on to the strange lady's finger. She looked down on him assuring him he was going to alright.
Frightened, he wanted to speak out so much, to deliver, deliver the events categorically that had taken place the previous afternoon.
Among others, he was left unharmed but for how long?
He walked out of the cruiser and slowly without pace walked in on the isolated island.
Guantanamo bay they had murmured while holding heritage to their guns and alert to shoot any signs of movement.
The little boy knew nothing of his purpose there. And suddenly a cloth of black was put over his head and he was forcefully pushed against the criminals where the insa...
This is a poem unfinished, recited in a land untold.
The pony rode the distant land with her hoofs underneath the snow.
The aim to conquer didn't fade that fast, it was fading yes, but only when studded in the hypocritic walls.
For, for all this, did a little girl once ask, (oh! I do remember, there were cherry, strawberry all in a gem-ed glass)
"father would I find you again in this world of class?
But all she heard were fainted whispers of the indecisive ghosts,
Crushed within the takers of the lifeless souls.
The rogue appearance,
The tattered tee
The fumbling syllabus
Come out when they sense me.
Journeying away toward—
The no tree hill
Cast your gaze
Catching my spell
Oh future love, where you been?
I'm not cribbing
I'm lying still
For your writing's on the wall—
Of some crooked teeth, does this one vocational;
Spare the distance, calm your souls.
When time comes, when time comes.
We'd venture together, from opposite stars,
for ours to meet;
In one place,
Under the star studded sky
In one night,
Under complete moon light.
Your eyes meet mine,
Like breeze meeting the sea.
Then would emotion be in the air,
At our first sight.
What torn page marks left was mere evidence to what had become of her.
She had gone, yes, but what memory she left off was more of a controversy.
Some said, she was a coward.
Some said she bore on too long.
When she did leave, all she wanted to remember was the piece of paper she memorised like it was her soul inside, what for, i didn't know.
"Dying days wouldn't hide.
Vampire sunkisses in daylight.
Heavy breathe for time is ripe.
And your shadow will mark the beginning of time"
"You know why she did was another question, the real investigation should mull over IF she did or not", said the detective (who also was her most trusted companion.)
The million storied lies tumbled down the slide in a way even metaphors couldn't explain. The heart throbbing feeling of just about everything sucked every ounce of sheer emotion for her.
It was atrociously demeaning; and she did live in a world full of atrocities.
How could she not imagine what it would be like to have one person truthful?
The dementors were rushing while she waited for her train to arrive at nine and three quarters. She waited for someone to hold out her hand and pull her in.
She'd been waiting all these years, but yet another valentines went without hope.
The wizarding world turned to her distraction.
"Magic would do it" she said.
Little did she know, someday magic ...
The timid wind blew the hair off her face in a gentle manner, where her freckles hid themselves and her eyes glimmered.
She waited for the last remand. She hoped to see the ending tenure of the fall that was lashed by the drenching lake. The water never seemed to stop.
It died. The hunger of it all. She looked away and turned to see that autumn had long gone and that winter was coming. Was it going to be harsh?
Was it not always?
The mere pleasure of filling into what separates giving and taking is the void that fills in loving and falling.
People are too shrugged to come across their strengths of masking everything their subconscious armours them for. Its the idea of letting go when you love something and the strength that proves that you can be you, with or without better halves.
You give, they dont take. They give, you dont take. Be it any relationship. You just give and nobody takes? It's time to loosen your reigns and let that flowing hair flow into oblivion where you weep of something you never gave or took.
I could see the black fading out, slowly and stealthily.
Slowly and stealthily, the fire heard me shout. And I still stood out in the rain.
It was one less of a fairytale,
For the fairy was amiss.
The dampened hair and the sparkling eyes
All craving for a kiss.
The air swayed too to a freeze,
No-no, it was all too pleasant.
The shadows calmed the grieved;
And the hauntings of an old old peasant.
I wondered where he lay?
Probably in a case somewhere by seven thieving dwarves.
His eyes were blue and his hair were blonde.
In a cold winter song.
I walked down from the frozen lake,
For the fiord had spread.
The pretty queen had spread ablaze,
Of a lion folk friend.
The sheathing yet...
The writing desk was one short of a pencil.
The story was one short of a fairy. And the man was one short of a woman.
A life, they say brings about many quests. Some in history, some in reality. Some in the form of questions; while others in the form of aims.
One of many, is the question of depriving love.
Love about anything. Almost why there aren't any tiger specie left or why did a dog run away or why is there not enough ozone layer.
It's complicated. The above are simple but compound questions. I mean obviously the ozone layer cannot amount to love.
Well, I think the meaning of love has been both under and over-rated. I mean I love the air, the trees, the carnivores living...
The lies that masked her face were lured in by a series of unfortunate events, that slowly but timidly hung her soul depriving her of everything she could've achieved but didn't.
After losing hope, she decided to give up and life and stood at the edge of the building terrace. Groovy.
He noticed her, understood her, felt her before he actually could. Looking ten stories up to a person who loosens their body to a more comfortably, soothing and a numbing manner isn't really the best way to fall in love at first site.
But that wasn't when the lion and the lamb fell in love. It was when the lion rescued the lamb during her journey to the ground.
It was more dramatic than it was reali...
She sprung up from the ground in a complete defence mechanism. She pushed down from the branch and jumped in a partial somersault. She gripped the body of the tree with a sense of independence like a horse in a race.
Her anger caused her pulling her hair at her failure of learning defence. She already shunned herself from the outside world for the disturbing parting away from her soul. Probably not her soul. No, not her soul.
Disturbing to read, isn't it? Well that's life if you're courageous enough to tread into life's every zone. She did. Tormented and grieved by most.
But flunked at it disastrously.
"It radiated through her soul, and all over her body. Unexpected visions of sadistic nature filled her mind virtually.
The cramps continued to torture her, and the words tormented her soul long enough until it was twilight.
The world looked pale around her and the gloom led to leafless tress. The land shadowed themselves with horror of kinds —which ironically — did not scare her.
The words that were meant to anger her caused her forced tears."
"Who was she?"
" A legend who nobody saw or heard about. Who silently conquered everyone and the world became a better place, but, it destroyed her. Her story would be told after twenty years, when the world is matured enough to hear her demise."
And the love you wanted to stick, disappoints you in ways unimaginable. Unexpected.
Perhaps you gave too much, and the world sang a melancholy rain.
Just like a drug that didn't drug the drug addict.
Her eyes filled themselves with tears of lonesome; that craved for a single touch by him. Nearness didn't beat their distances.
They loved, but weren't allowed to love. They were ten foot apart, were but couldn't move a single step.
Just like a drug that didn't drug the drug addict.
Her lashes closed down, the same way a fall lashed the shore.
Racing in a life threatening desire.
Designing my own fate;
Resting like a cheap bonfire,
Love rests the game.
It's been long since I've seen you.
Walk an aisle.
It's been long since I've missed you,
laughing a metaphoric rhyme.
Honey, why are you thrust unto the land?
buried deep deep down?
I've missed you long now.
Hurry back and hug it all out.
It's sad to see you stoned.
It's sad to read what the stone holds.
It was your choice to let go,
it was your choice to breathe slow.
I still do stare at our beach pictures.
the one where you last wore white,
I still do breathe the beach,
where a pest slaved my wife.
I'm still here, waiting;
writing fate off.
I'm still here gl...