stuti-chakraborty - Hello Poetry

We are in the middle of nowhere We cannot stop to listen to ourselves, to our souls that conjure Mirroring the brokenness of our existence Transient as ever, we talk to the hushed voices inside our heads expecting everything, neglecting resistance. We are stuck in the monotone of having to breathe Bleeding tears of dismissed dreams, succumbing to a protective sheath Which never was, always appeared to be And there we are, waiting for forever to come, set us free We have nothing to hold on to, yet have so much to let go We are trying too hard to perfect our scars, tame our shadow It’s a beginning to the end of what we believe we can make Of the rubble we toppled down to, but there’s no escape We are hanging on to plummeting petals of a dehisced flower, One that never ceased to bloom, Thrown adrift, by our tyranny’s power.

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Mar 27, 2016

Mar 27, 2016 at 8:18 AM UTC

stuti-chakraborty

Nowhere

We are in the middle of nowhere We cannot stop to listen to ourselves, to our souls that conjure Mirroring the brokenness of our existence Transient as ever, we talk to the hushed voices inside our heads expecting everything, neglecting resistance. We are stuck in the monotone of having to breathe Bleeding tears of dismissed dreams, succumbing to a protective sheath Which never was, always appeared to be And there we are, waiting for forever to come, set us free We have nothing to hold on to, yet have so much to let go We are trying too hard to perfect our scars, tame our shadow It’s a beginning to the end of what we believe we can make Of the rubble we toppled down to, but there’s no escape We are hanging on to plummeting petals of a dehisced flower, One that never ceased to bloom, Thrown adrift, by our tyranny’s power.

16

I hear the muffled voices of distance Snickers of the devils, the mockery of my existence I could fade into mist, let blood feed on my soul The treacheries of the present dig in the flesh of my form, a hole. Cries of my smile go unnoticed, the tyranny of my heartbeat Treated with apathy; I’m falling into the numbness of where I reside, In this tormented abode, on an overcast, cold street. A sardonic camaraderie is what I’ve accepted, with the masked creatures of being That surround me; they lick my bones While I walk the pathway of malice, at me, they throw stones. I weep, gather my gait, my thoughts Trying to awaken the carcass of my lungs that have been smothered, trampled upon By the seize of their condescending eyes and uncouth manifestations. I am hurting, falling, burying myself into the ground To see what I can see, the teardrops of my endurance, There they have left dots.

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Jun 1, 2015

Jun 1, 2015 at 6:31 AM UTC

stuti-chakraborty

DOTS

I hear the muffled voices of distance Snickers of the devils, the mockery of my existence I could fade into mist, let blood feed on my soul The treacheries of the present dig in the flesh of my form, a hole. Cries of my smile go unnoticed, the tyranny of my heartbeat Treated with apathy; I’m falling into the numbness of where I reside, In this tormented abode, on an overcast, cold street. A sardonic camaraderie is what I’ve accepted, with the masked creatures of being That surround me; they lick my bones While I walk the pathway of malice, at me, they throw stones. I weep, gather my gait, my thoughts Trying to awaken the carcass of my lungs that have been smothered, trampled upon By the seize of their condescending eyes and uncouth manifestations. I am hurting, falling, burying myself into the ground To see what I can see, the teardrops of my endurance, There they have left dots.

16

We live for nothing but tomorrow, In anticipation of the inevitable impending, Our faces full of vanity, our souls dwelling in sorrow. We pray for nothing but bliss, Our minds clinging on to thoughts of who we used to be, Dopplegangers of a better part of us, all turned vengeful, all gone amiss. We are fearful of ever having to perish And so we try, tiresomely, to hold on to the things that make us force a smile, The things perceived noble by others, we cherish. We wreak havoc in this lifetime granted, Standing steadfastly by pride, prejudice and all sins alike Committing the illicit with bravado, boasting of the hatred we have planted. Yet, a part of us can still love, can still be compassionate, and still spurt Unconditional warmth and caressing concern, on the things we call dear But we are too blinded to see, too deafened to hear, by the abhorrence that envelops us, And self-consumed, we discard them too, never stopping to look back when they’re hurt.

0

Jun 1, 2015

Jun 1, 2015 at 6:28 AM UTC

stuti-chakraborty

No Apologies

We live for nothing but tomorrow, In anticipation of the inevitable impending, Our faces full of vanity, our souls dwelling in sorrow. We pray for nothing but bliss, Our minds clinging on to thoughts of who we used to be, Dopplegangers of a better part of us, all turned vengeful, all gone amiss. We are fearful of ever having to perish And so we try, tiresomely, to hold on to the things that make us force a smile, The things perceived noble by others, we cherish. We wreak havoc in this lifetime granted, Standing steadfastly by pride, prejudice and all sins alike Committing the illicit with bravado, boasting of the hatred we have planted. Yet, a part of us can still love, can still be compassionate, and still spurt Unconditional warmth and caressing concern, on the things we call dear But we are too blinded to see, too deafened to hear, by the abhorrence that envelops us, And self-consumed, we discard them too, never stopping to look back when they’re hurt.

16