Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Oct 2016 GitacharYa VedaLa
Josie
I'll steal your essence if I please
You're the only thing I really need
I promise you, I wouldn't tease
I yearn for your neck to bleed
I have this terrible disease
Every night I go out to feed
I'm sorry, I don't mean to displease
If you'll excuse me I need to proceed
It won't be long after you begin to wheeze
Do you remember
The fairy tales we spun
On those blazing summer noons
When the road tar was melting
And we bunked classes
To be under the forest flame
Shadowed from the world outside
When we thought time would be immortal
As you wiped the sweats from my forehead
And with every thread of yarn
I would grip you harder
In an effort to prevent gravity
From letting those moments fall
Into the abyss of memories.

Do your eyes still see the Prince
That never took you away
When you tell your grandkids
The fairy tales?
March 31, 2016
 Oct 2016 GitacharYa VedaLa
ryn
Images extracted from
the tapestry of my dreams.
Sewn intricate...
Into a patchwork.

A quilt,
embroidered with lavish sequins and ornate beads.
Bringing forth fantastical motifs...
A dazzling display
upon the backdrop of my dreamscape.

Yet...
This mosaic of dreams
does not warm me so.
It never lasts.

They fall away like autumn leaves
come the dawning sun.
They get washed out and pulled into the tide,
as the waves beat upon the shore of wakefulness.
They fade into fragmented memories
that make no sense...
Incoherent and disjointed.

Eventually, they disappear...
For they do not belong
in a world of worldly things
and ticking clocks.
Their intangible and mismatched nature
render them inconsequential...
Naturally...
They get misplaced.

But I am stubborn.

I will fashion such a blanket.
One that skirts the boundary
of this realm and the other.

I will tailor it so...

So that...
I will sleep tonight,
swaddled tight and cocooned within its
glorious seams.
Tucked within the safety and warmth of
this blanket...
Woven immaculate...
Out of
worldly things and breathtaking dreams.
His eyes widened as he struggled for breath,
Almost as though he could see his approaching death.
His young face, puffy; his veins bulging out completely,
As he looked at the nurse seemingly begging for mercy.
But she didn't care, she only did as she was told,
As she removed the oxygen mask & the blanket that shielded from the cold.
And in that state he shivered and shook,
Labouring even harder with each breath he took.
His legs lay motionless, his arms hanging by the side,
Saliva dripping from his mouth down to his thighs.
His eyes searched mine, as though in [a] silent plea,
"Do something! Please help me!"
But alas! I was as helpless as he,
Powerless! Hampered by inability.
For the Fates had decided before hand,
To afflict him with a condition incurable by Man.
His eyes formed with tears clear as glass,
As though he realised the next breath might be his last.
Suddenly he let out a groan probably of desperation and pain,
And I beheld the life from his body drain.
His chest stopped heaving and suddenly everything was still,
His limbs had lost their vitality and will.
He died at a tender age with no family at his side,
With his final moments beheld by this stranger's eyes.

R.I.P my dear. You will not be forgotten.

#BlueRain
iv. 06/10/16
Wrote this after I witnessed a 10 y.o pass on from end-stage renal disease. He was abandoned by his family and could no longer afford hospital support. May he r.i.p.
It can enrage the angels
Devils it can make serene
Most powerful creation
Anyone has ever seen

Peace in cruel hell
It's rhymes can create
It's emotions can bring
The heavens to hate
Poems are magical
the Buddha sits
with a flower in hand
and the disciples are gathered;
and there is no word
there is no symbol
there is no utterance

Mahakasyapa smiles;
It is understood;
there is seeing
beyond words, beyond text
The monk
received
a box
on his birthday,
and it was
a special gift
from his brother monks,
so, he knew
that it was something special,
so, with a little nervousness,
he carefully opened the box
and saw that it was empty,
and with great joy
and happiness
he exclaimed,
"Nothing!
Just what I wanted!"
 Oct 2016 GitacharYa VedaLa
anu
Just wish to be in school always
Where I will be too busy
Which makes me to forget
All my mental agony

The moral of the story
That physical agony
Could wipe out mental agony
Just expressed how I feel after coming out from school
Next page