Once I received
a plant
in a brown ***.

I put it outside
-the verandah exactly.

Every day I saw it.
Well, I thought it
needed its hydration and vitamin D.
So I
watered it a little
and sunned it a little.

One day,
I saw them-the FLOWERBUDS!
I felt something
tinkling? sparkling?
there
resting on its very seat.

A few days after,
they bloomed.
It rejoiced I could tell.
Photos were taken
don't you worry.

At 5pm I rushed home
just to be greeted
by their sincere, smiling petals.
Touched,
I, too,
smiled.

One night
before October began,
I was awoken
by the wailing
of such a strong, wild wind.
It wasn't anything ordinary.

Then I remembered
my loyal welcomer.
"Oh"
I braved myself to
open the door.
I turned the ****
and leaned against the door,
withholding the whirls.
"Oh,"
One dot, two dots, three dots,
countless dots
rained the soiled and deformed.

I felt it
being ripped
to pieces.

You frown, I frown.
What obligates you?
And to I-why?

Do not we dote;
the elongation
of our tumultuous spirit?

Like a waterfall in pursuit of a sea,
Like weary eyes in need of lubrication,
Like a meowing kitten craving for milk.
Suffice is not.

Ere we beseech serenity
-an equilibrium.

O speak,
From your deepest well
-gay or remorse.

For a mirror, I am not.

You
blue hue,
brew dew.

Who knew,
I’m new.

Woo
and cue,
the clue.

You
glue,
my do.

O true.

A breezy morning,

at the balcony.



One cloth peg.

A shirt.

One cloth peg.



Another cloth peg.

Another shirt.

Another cloth peg.



More cloth pegs.

More shirts.

From a big red basket.

To think for ye self,

solely and unrivalled.

-aye, Victorious!



To sculpt a smilen

on others' visage;

-ye ne’er crave.



But,

the kin’s desiren

hath thine

becometh.

Just now,

I sat at the piano.



I think I have forgotten

that the bench has been warmed up by so long a sitting

that the keys have been stroked with gentility and aggressiveness responsively

and that the strings have been telling the unsaid.



My brunette piano,

please stay loyal to me.

A lady in blue.



In a purse

unzipped,

A coral pink lipstick

A rose blusher

A bronzed eyeshadow

A fuschia eyeshadow

A black eyeliner

A mascara

A compact powder

A lipgloss.



Strolling in a park,

The purse

clutched.



Poised.

Protected.

I deserve a good rest.

I deserve all the happiness in the world.

I deserve more time.

I deserve eating healthy food.

I deserve to be loved.

I deserve to be pampered.

I deserve listening to great music.

I deserve to be heard.

I deserve to be respected.

I deserve precious friendships.

I deserve good grades.

I deserve to see all parts of the world.

I deserve a loving and a caring family.

I deserve to have what I have

And I am grateful for what I have.

You want people to see from your perspective

But it is not easy you see?

Not everybody has the same schemata as you have

Not everybody experiences what you’ve experienced

Not everybody thinks the way you do

It is just not easy



But is it that important to make people see from YOUR point of view?



Because

If everybody thinks the way you do

If everybody knows what you know

You’ll no longer be just You

You’ll be Us

And We’ll be You.

If you:

can’t think clearly now,
are walking without balance,
are angry,
are sad,
are bored,
are hungry and are too lazy to cook or buy some food for yourself,
are tired, and
are sleepy,
go and get some sleep.

Have been listening attentively

Have been practising all day long

Have been monitoring closely the movement of the fingers

But still, satisfaction has not yet been achieved

Perhaps, I need to work harder..

Don’t know what to do.

Feel so empty.

Time wasted.

No energy.

Unmotivated to do anything.

I take a look at it

-just a quick glance.

Then I put it back.



I take a step backward.

I run my eyes over the variety.

Palms covering my mouth that is almost a twin of a doughnut now

“What a collection!”

I gasp.



Fingers trembling, knees wobbling

I am astounded!



It by It,

I study

I scrutinize

I deliberate

I decide.

Finally.



This is It.

It is what I quest-

A quest of none, I shall say

for it would not be

if the initiation is certain;

As what begins, ends itself.



My eyes have caught glimpse of it.

Eyelids are getting heavier and heavier.

Mouth has been yawning a thousandth times.

But still,

Mind is operating actively

Fear of losing momentum.

She is

sitting by the window

sipping a cup of black coffee

at a corner of a coffee house

alone

isolated

and

disconnected from

any potential

influences and

biasness that

may alter

her singularity

of mind and senses.

She is angry!

She is angry!

She makes people angry

when she is angry!



She sours. She pouts.

       She frowns!

“Help us! Help us!”

She is about to pounce!



Her face is pale

but it spells R-E-D.

All hail! All hail!

that this is DREAD!



It is boiling inside;

Her wrath.

Explodes!

Like a Vesuvius’ eruption.



So,



When she screams

When she shouts

She ejects hot lava!



Please,



“Leave us be! Leave us be!”

Beg we as a team.

PUFF!

She evaporates like hot steam.

The mind sees

Blue skies and

Cottony clouds.

Such an unparalleled beauty.



The mind feels

The wonderful morning breeze.

Calming. Soothing.



The mind hears

Oh!

The clear, crisp sounds.

A slight tingling feeling tickling me.



Spirits lifted.

Emotions diversified.



The heart’s wanting for more. More and more!

Please

Don’t stop.

Please

Don’t end.

Not yet.

Truth is masked. Flaws are concealed.

Uncertainty befogs the mind.

Clues are misleading.

So blurry! So bleary!

White on white

So pure, so bright

You light up.

Purple.

What does it signify?

Each time I listen to the

cry of the soul,

I see it purple.

Yes, purple is the colour.

I wonder why it isn’t grey.

I guess purple is more befitting.



The purple cry makes my heart feels strange;

It is neither happy nor sad.

It is a combination of both.

I see the purple soul as survival

and so, the one who cries it is a survivor

who endures hardships and pains that

only he knows.

It was a long wait.

I was patient,

patient enough to

tolerate the total eagerness

for earning something

that is

by and large

to be disposed of

by many a lucky person.



Peradventure,

the long patience

determines the value

of that worthy a thing.

I have taken a long break

for a breathing space.

I know I may no longer be the same.

I know that I may have changed

maybe not much; just a little bit of

this and that

here and there.

People may be left awestruck

by the tiny changes;

or people may be left dumbstruck

for they hate the changes.

I won’t mind

as to me

the changes are forward steps

and I

revel in progression and improvement.

Impossible is impossible.

It can never be possible

when it is impossible to make it possible.



Nonetheless,

To dream for the impossible is possible.

Though it will never be possible.

It is fruitless and useless,yes;

But brings mirth and amusement.



To hope for the impossible is possible.

Though it is agonizing and distressing;

As ‘hope’ suggests,

Possitivity is expected.

Hence, let’s keep on hoping

for the possibility of the impossible.

One says this

The other says that

Their words are pecking my ears

Their stares are burning my eyes.

From both sides, pressures entering

as if being compressed by two concrete grey walls.



It is understandable

That it is their duties

To protect what they claim to be theirs.



But the state of powerlessness

of a mediator

is like a rash, reddening my skin.



This battlefield.

Have I no say in it?

Have I nothing to preserve?

My feelings and thoughts, perhaps?



It is undeniable

That awareness is absent.

THOUGHT #1

She has changed.

She is fragile

yet firm.

A mother now, she is.



THOUGHT #2

When can I go home?

When can I?

When?



THOUGHT #3

My right brain is activated.

Words played.

Songs invented.

I am affected

and infected

with ART.



THOUGHT #4

Who am I

to judge others?

Who am I

to blame others?

Who am I

to punish others?

Who am I

to shut others out?



I am not better than you are.

We are all equal in nature.

Sigh. Sigh.

It’s tiring

sitting here.

Listening to nonsense.

I just can’t connect

to what lies before my eyes.



Sigh. Sigh.

It’s boring.

I hear whispers.

I hear grumbles.

I hear my own thoughts.



I’m not listening anymore.