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Anam Dec 2017
The Walls

That day when I sighed
Holding the hand of my love
And closing my eyes...

The cracks on my wall - yellow and pale
Took me on a journey where I inhaled, memories.

The hands that held me too tight,
Like the walls enclosing me in my sight,
And as they walk nearer to me
I could feel the paint, the mould, the cement..

And as I inhaled it, it was too much, too near,
Taking away something very dear,
My respect lay in shards and every piece I collected pierced my heart.

There was no where to go,
No lanes to escape in to, no boats to row
Through this river drowning me,
Taking me away from the shore

The walls now a part of me
And I hanged like a picture for the world to see
Admire or sympathise, tragedy or lies,
Everyday I breathed the same fear and cries...

Till I was dropped one day
The frame no more allowed to stay
The pieces I picked, my dignity a broken stick,
My soul, a paper with words written all over
Till I reached..

I reached a cliff where my tragedies were only a whiff of air,
And my soul was not my own
But expanded and stretched by a force unknown

With my scars displayed as stars
And I the sky, too high to be touched
Too beautiful to be enough
For my stories to be told
And my scars to unfold
For the world to see, forever.
Anam Dec 2017
My body cocooned in the soil lies
Amidst mud, dirt, memories and worms
Decaying away like it was only yesterday
When my mind gave birth to the fame

A star was I, rising higher than the western sky
Beautiful to gaze with my art creating a craze
I never said a word, it was all they said
Climbing down the stairs while shedding slowly


Too high was I meant to soar,
Cheers and Curses resonating in my core
But high did reach I, losing my pride
Stumbling and landing in my grave with a sigh
  Dec 2017 Anam
Sylvia Plath
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"
Anam Dec 2017


I sit near my window,

The curtain long and wide,

Hide my vision of the sky

All I see is obscured and in fragments,

I sigh!

But do nothing as my curtain flies.

The next day I sit again,

I hear the screams of a woman - sometimes garbled, sometimes loud like a siren,

And it suddenly stops.

My heart runs and eyes exhaust - too eager but too shy,

I sigh!

And go back to work.

The other day I woke up late,

I sit by my window,

Tired and I hesitate,

Suddenly there is pain in my chest,

Voices in my ears - unstable and insane,

I grasp the curtain hard, I try to pull it away,

But then I froze.

I tasted anxiety under my nose - delicious and fresh,

I relax, open my curled fist,

Let the curtain fly,

I sigh!

I see my curtain fly, too high today,

I get up to pull it away,

But footsteps are heard,

I turn back and see,

Masses and masses of people,

Scattered like leaves - dead and pale.

I try but I couldn't grieve,

There is a gun pointed at me,

I smell terror freely,

I open my eyes, pulled back in to reality,

I see my curtain fly,

I smile.

I sigh!

My days are over here, I need to go.

I look at my curtain, sit on the chair,

I hear the noises of the street - crying of children, scolding of a mother, songs of lover, laughter of girls, giggles of boys,

I see the sky through the curtain - cloudy and unclear,

I feel love not fear,

I get up and pull the curtain away,

The sky is bright and clear.

The street full of people too busy in the jobs so mere.

The windows of the neighbours clean.

The woman smiling with a gleam.
I walk away contended,

The curtain lies in the corner, perhaps offended.
  Dec 2017 Anam
Charles Bukowski
there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at ****** are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love

beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average

but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to **** you
to **** anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect

like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock

their finest art

— The End —