It was 6: 09 on a Tuesday when I skated on Saturn's rings.
I spun and twirled as gravity sang.
At 6:10, I almost fell into space but gravity was my saving grace .
Ethereal creations like Saturn left a blissful imprint on my mind,
somehow, something so vehement and volatile remained so kind.

So, I thanked Saturn for its company.
It sits in space, ever so lovely !
I will prepare for my next visit as it awaits.
Staring at the sky , I smile, itching to exit
the atmospheres gates.

Under the darkened sky , we walk .
Flapping of feathery wings , birds flock .
On the almost black pavement , words
deteriorate as they are spoken .
People . People are always rushing somewhere
not wanting to get frozen by the frosty cold air.

The last piece of beauty awaits its time,
hiding behind the ominous clouds .
Its almost midnight , the hour will soon chime .
Amidst constant appointments ,
deadlines and anniversaries,
I'm just admiring the  earth and its mysteries .
I am acquainted with  nightfall and its miracles ,
familiar  with its unbelievable oracles .

Silhouettes stood dark and tall,
I should have shut up once and for all.

My mouth was sealed,
no words were said.
When spoken, they were
empty words that went unheard.

Age divided us.
For this, I was mocked.
My tongue was sharp
so, I was flogged.

I saw you live your dream
all the time.
I saw the importance,
but what about mine?

I saw people,
I saw joy,
I saw children play with toys.

I wished for space,
far from there.
I wished for miles
as far as light years.

But I still asked myself,
"Why was I there?"

Now, every time I think of you,
I remember our sinful encounter,
your lust filled gaze.
The whole affair should have never happened.
I didn’t recognize myself when I lay in your arms.
I became older, colder, more rebellious and utterly
open towards you.

We know every inch of each other.
I know you love that, you revel in it.
But I don’t. I feel exposed and completely confused.

I don’t know what came over me that day.
One moment I was a shy wallflower
in the midst of a sea of strangers.
I don’t know whose party it was or if I was even invited.
Then you spotted me in the crowd and came to talk to me.
Most of it is a blur in my head.

We hurriedly ran off together,
our clothes came off,
your lips trailed my neck.
You were huge and experienced,
We explored but didn't truly
discover each other.

After all was done,
There was just silence.
We were silent,
my thoughts were silent.

You tried to embrace  me for some moments
but I pushed your arms away.

It was just a transaction.

Looking back, I don’t understand all of it.
I hope we never meet again.

Your eyes are so beautiful but sad.
Ladders on your walls with
"unreachable" peaks encapsulate you.

Chapped lips and blistered palms
symbolize your life's struggles.
Scars coat your arms
as you crawl on such rugged rubble.

God, who lifts his hands to either
punish or reward, heard your prayers.
All your ordeals and prejudices
has burdened you in many layers.

Your eyes are so beautiful but sad.
A rare beauty is what I call you
but I know you wouldn't like that.

Amidst all the troubles of your days,
a compliment might seem like the
last thing to say.

I have seen your trials and denials,
your slavery and hopeless compliance.
I still see the beauty in you and I can
write it in words but cannot sing it in tunes.

But don't worry, pain is temporary
and it would leave soon.

Dance with the masked beast
as the arpeggios sound.
Dip your head into the wind,
ignorant of the ground.

The enigma you dance with is
as alluring as the moon.
Without a blush but with desire,
you silently swoon.

The night air caresses the melodies
as well as your soul and
beneath the mask is a being unlike any,
with marks and scars all from witchery .

As you waltz, unaware of the witchcraft,
love will surely unfold.
As the beast moves, aroused by this waltz
and your embrace, there is no more cold.

An icy heart is melting
The curse is lifting
The stars as shining
This waltz is bliss
Now, he seeks your kiss.

Instead of homework,
I, a curious and
strange child
ran into a library
of multiverses.

To the left was Macbeth,
and to the right was Dorian Gray.
Amidst my tardiness and slight
disarray, I found Beethoven.

He, so volatile,
so angry and loving,
so deceitful and charming
exhausting then relaxing.

He composed
infectious melodies
of strings and brass that
rumbled like thunderstorms
but these thunderstorms
rained heavily on me,
washing away negativity,
blooming flowers
of unique beauty.

Statements in musical
form, everlasting, ever flowing
lead me away from a
place of sitting in silence
and not knowing
what notes are like
when they dance .

With his outstretched arms
I found an embrace in
an immortal man
with a loyal stance.

Time means nothing,
when floating on cloud nine.
Beethoven transcends time
and with him, everything
is just fine.    

I once found Beethoven
in a library and since then
he has never left me.

Black phantoms
peruse the streets,
silently and solemnly
as they don’t speak.


Curious passers by
week after week
seek a glimpse,
just a peek.

Who are these phantoms
covered in black,
these phantoms
that don’t look back?

Black phantoms,
masked in their dark
are unaware of life
beneath their mask.

But curious beings
search for them
through the dark
and wish to learn
who lies beneath
the mask.

You created the distance between us
so don't come back to me
when I boost my jetpack
and fly away to my old passions.

Do not come back to me
when I have settled
with someone else
or when your love life
suddenly starts,
then seizes to exist.

People make time for what they love
but your speech was not justified
when you made me more
of an option than a priority.

Don't come back to me
when I move on and discard
your smooth lies
and when I scrub
traces of your touch
from my hands and thighs .

My candour has been effective
and my armour has been scathed.
However, I have suffered worse
so I will never wish for your return
or our past times.

Living in the past is recipe for destruction.
This is a fact so take the instruction.

With long strides, I have picked up my pace
and with time, you will be replaced .

I distract myself with certain memories
Of imperfect ages where I could have belonged.
I hum to myself melodies that do not exist to some
But exist in my mind and my hearts songs.

It sings songs of life where I am not a grain of sand
But a radiant beauty, bright like the sun.
A woman who can run through the wild
Without shame, without the nakedness
That comes from all her wrongs.

If I could sleep and always wake up to this dream,
Wouldn’t that be fun?

I cannot breathe my dreams into life
But I can continue to think and write.
Too many mistakes haunt me.
Too many expectations, daunting.
But I can continue to think and write.

For now, that will do.
Till sleep comes, that will do.

His hands linger,
caressing her thighs
and with hopeful eyes,
he recites Shakespearean rhymes.

What could have been more romantic?
What could have been more tragic?

His recital is like a symphony to a stoic audience.
Unfruitful is his performance,
unattainable is her heart.

Evil bubbles battle in my chest
With friction and force, so I don’t rest.
Their invisibility scares me more
than the pain itself since I cannot control
it and remove it from my chest.

Automatically, my hands rise
In hopes to alleviate the pain
But they rose to nothing more
Than pain who loves fame.

Always in the spotlight,
These bubbles of pain
Battle for severity
And leave me feeling
Insecurity.

Days of painless ease have gone
Leaving me feeling so bereft.
I still tell myself I’m strong
But wonder when my strength left.

Fallen angels
drop from the sky.
Fallen angels mar
the earth with evil
In their eyes.

Human suffering,
eternal greed.
Life’s ending,
laboured breathing.

Fallen angels drop
from the sky.
Fallen angels
Seem white
But lie.
 
I see maroon
caricatures with
tight fists.
They are hell bent and
Insist, through impenetrable mists.

They emerge, unexpected and disastrous.
The world, stunned,
is unprepared for this madness.
 
Guns are blasted,
Knives do slashing.
Fallen angels have lasted
and rise even through ashes.
 
They persist and prevail,
whilst parents are covered in black veils.
They persist and prevail
As their minions hail
the sadness and
waltz in the  madness.
 
Battles have been won,
Heroes have been brave.
But monstrosities
Can never be erased.

I went round and round,
spiraling from one disaster to another.

I was filthy rich and sipped the most
expensive wine and reeked of Givenchy
perfume and narcissism .

I walked with my head in the stars,
walked on water and overindulged
in the life of glamour and speed.

Everything was "Perfect"

Everything was MATERIALISTIC  

Think

What happens when a car speeds too fast ?

It crashes

That's when all the madness began.

I crashed and didn't crash alone
I had company.

Frozen in time
blood run cold
I'll be fine
when I melt like snow .

Ice sheets,
frozen forests.
Mysteries breath
from sunrise to sunset.

Desolate plains
in quite places,
nothing even a wintery
breeze displaces.

How did you get here?
Where did you come from?

Questions plague your mind
as you try to disentangle weeds
and traverse through the forest.

Calmly, you travel ,
trying to unravel
this puzzle.

Something lurks in this
dark and eerie forest.
You can’t see it.
but you can feel it.

Out of the darkness,
beauty emerges.
A man of mystery
walks to you and
places your hands in his.

Instantly, you are pulled to him,
like a moth to a flame.
This man has aroused passion in you.
But who is he?
You have met him before.

Entranced by his presence,
you lean into him,
trying to cling to his essence.

But no matter how hard you cling,
there is a barrier.
There is a fire in you,
a fire to discover this mystery.

But the barrier persists.
he insists that there must be a barrier.
He holds on to you
in the darkness of the forest.

He is hidden by the shadows
but you still cling to his darkness.

Like an addict,
you depend on him,
on his darkness.

You wake up full of questions,
missing the being,
missing the connection.

Anomalies twist and turn,
laughing whilst destroying,
enjoying the fun.

Irregular they are,
disappearing then reappearing,
raising hell, painting scars.

Glitches are one step ahead,
the fear of fears,
full of dread.

As you speak,
your hole like eyes are all I see.
So deep and dark like a trench .
So mysterious and black .

When you talk,
it's in tongues ,
a foreign language
difficult to encode;
so mind boggling ..

You , a woman of mysteriousness
you in the background,
forgettable but mysterious when seen

What are you secrets ?
What are you hiding ?

You ,  an impossible crossword puzzle
of unsolvable equations and unknown words
You are the lock but the keys lie
in your eyes .

How can I find them ?
Anyone who trespasses your depths will be lost and never found.
Anyone who swims in the Marianas trench your eyes are is sure to drown .

So, you might die an encoded person,
an unsolved math problem,
confusing maggots who wish to feast on your corpse,
Entering the afterlife as a mysterious soul
with unsure beginnings and an unsolved end.

I
In those arms you crave,
the doubts don't misbehave.
Embraces and kisses
sparked the endless wishes.

The halo you saw during the allure
ignited the trust and propelled the lure .
Like a moth to a flame,
like a Notre to a Dame .

II
It's in these laughs we share
as we smile ear to ear.
It's in those days where
as simple hug is needed.
It's in the times our faith never depleted.

Days pass, years too
as time never lasts
but joy keeps the hear in tact .

Lost in her own reverie, she stared out the window
admiring nature's delivery and
remaining immobile like an alert black widow .
Even the infinitesimal of creations were deeply appreciated.
Unfortunately, her liberation has depreciated .
All forms of colour slowly fade to monochrome.
At first glance , trees and vast greens are luscious.
The sounds and mood of the earth are now monotone .
From the rambunctious days to contentious rules ablaze. 
My sneaking suspicions of a partner has only made me still appreciate monochrome.
For now , that is all I can do as I constantly wonder ..

In these halls, we scream as our underlying madness takes over our bodies
In these halls, there is no mystique as true human nature is revealed
There is no room for sanity but instead, beautiful lullabies of hysteria.
People use their claw like nails trying to somehow escape themselves.
In a sick twisted way, I love this world,
this world unlit by incessant eclipses.
Sometimes madness can be a sweet thing.

A white caravan , clean and shiny 
drove past many . 
Inside of it was a 
limp and a frail body .
Kidnapped in broad daylight ,
the sun should have illuminated 
the struggle , the evil . 

Despite her struggle , 
she was forced into the vehicle. 
His face is on the news,
that face with a cynical smile 
that still drives his caravan miles 
and miles away from prying eyes.  

She lays on dry blood 
in a car that has stored
loads of corpses 
stored in piles of boxes.  

Far in a field , he gathered 
his tools as his ideas
of human torture 
elated him with joy.
He dragged her by her ponytail 
into a field of blades , acid and knives .

With these tools he has stolen 
innocent lives and 
deformed a face once full of smiles.

Our picture was a masterpiece of love
our art soared like a dove.
Brush strokes of red and
pink created the cloud nine,
we were paper planes in the wind
and everything was fine.
There were no boundaries as we explored...
thoroughly.

The quivering wings of the butterfly proves that not all caterpillars will thrive
Unwanted predators and natures call will cause its its demise and fall
The beauty of a butterflies wings is a foolish disguise.
To see the truth and feel its pain, look into its eyes .

Mirror mirror on the wall,
cuts and scars and suicidal falls.

Mirror mirror on the wall,
pressures upon pressures,
mascaras and concealers
on the dressers.

The who am I’s
the broken smiles
upon short journeys,
feeling like a million miles .

Sticks and stones break the bones,
with sharp edged swords, depression is shown.

The melodramatic emphasis of artificial fixtures,
the wrong lessons from photo shopped pictures.

The melodramatic emphasis of the "It crowd"
People, rambunctious and obnoxious
malevolent and pretentious .

Mirror mirror on the wall...

The more I get to know people,
the less they get to know me.
But from what I have seen in people,
I am stripped with irregularity
like a bumblebee.

The house is silent
and I contemplate running away with you.
But, my doubts stop as soon as you
enter my room.
We can leave this chaos.
and transition into a blissful existence.

Sapphires are your eyes,
rubies are your lips.

Topaz is your hair
but onyx is your heart.

In an agenda years ago,
I lay down my words.
A poetic world full of polarities
and psychopathic tendencies
were revealed to me.

Introspect allowed me to inspect,
reflect and purposely
continue my conquest of conquests.
I sedated myself in silenced hours,
motivated myself through stormy showers.

Sometimes, I pause, lacking ideas or
how to transcribe them.
But when I am compelled
that's when the fun begins..

Rhythmically(or not) I play
with words like a drum
and drunkenly, I am
intoxicated with the fun.

He nodded to what she said
but smiled at what the other wore.
His hands wrapped her like a blanket
as they sat by the shore .

Although, his other hand
was preoccupied with lies and deceit.
She waited at the table beside an empty seat.

Gentle breezes,
dismal sighs.
Vacant sceneries,
darkened skies.

Yearning lovers
in the night,
all is well,
all is right.

Solitude,
a gift,
a friend,
that which I thrive on.

He lulls me to sleep,
listens to my midnight thoughts,
caresses my body with his
wholesome embrace.

But I sometimes push him away,
ignore him,
replace him with trivial things,
empty conversations.

He, on the other hand,
whispers sad memories into my head,
reminds me of what I have lost,
how alone I get.

He forces me to vividly remember
memories I tried to forget.

Solitude creates an inner turbulence of
my ambivalence.
He relents and resents his replacements,
my so called "friends."

Yet, I am closer to solitude than anyone else.

Why are people afraid of me?
I am simply an ideology.
Why do people feel ashamed of me?
I am simply a human being.

We cannot all think the same,
yet people 'promote diversity'.
We cannot think the same,
so  there lies the hypocrisy.

Amidst their disguises of compassion,
there is a dangerous distraction.
If they truly encouraged love,
then they would not promote destruction.

A looks different from b,
in todays world, that is an abomination.
B thinks differently from c,
in todays world, that is an invasion.

It is also as if people want to rewind time
and stop at segregation.
Like a pervasive virus,
there is more and more division.

We cannot rewrite history, but we relive it.
We can change the future by solving the present.

What am I ,to you ?
A puppet , to be displayed
and controlled?

A conformist who should
be forced into submission?

We have had our share of disagreements,
our share of unpleasant moments.

But, I chose to be the bigger person,
I chose to acknowledge my mistakes
and seek solutions.

You chose to become a ghost,
a nomad , absent from
all forms of responsibility.
You chose to hide behind your emotions
and left me alone to rebuild what we lost.

I cannot fix our past ,
I can only accept my mistakes
and move forward.
Life is not meant for us to stand back
and watch our mistakes and regrets control us.

I have done my part
and stand with certainty.
I am not proud of all the decisions that I made
but that does not mean that I should not move through the pain.

It is now your turn.
You can either turn your back on me and us
or return to me and work with me to create new paths
full of suns and rains,
laughs and pains.

What do you choose?

She looked at the ultrasound image,
scared and speechless.
Her pessimistic husband inculcated her with words,
useless words.
Her ideas of the family she envisioned cracked like glass.
While internal tears drowned her, she began reminiscing the past.
As the doctor spoke, she heard nothing but
the hopes and dreams she created in her head.
Unsure and filled with anxiety,
she was filled with dread.
The one moment she always awaited,
left her feeling very deflated.

"W- what is that ?" She stuttered, pointing at the image.

The doctor cleared his throat.

"What is that ?!" She screamed, becoming agitated.

"Not even science can explain that." he said.

The being  inside her was far from human,
with its two heads and black eyes
peering at her through the image.

"It's not human and I am so sorry." the doctor sympathized.

Her husband, enraged at the whole situation marched out of the room

and slammed the door.

All hell broke loose after she cut her stomach open
and released the creature into town.
Paranoia and pain tormented the town
for months till the creature was captured
by a once nameless entity.

This is the entity parents warned their children against
but this entity became an angel and a saviour.
Over time, this nameless entity was named fear
and sometimes, fear helps us overcome our
greatest nightmares.

As late as the hour is,
I am compelled to express on paper,
what I struggle to speak to others.

You are a risk that I have chosen to take.
I cannot hold your hand or feel your presence,
but, I have chosen to slowly break my barriers
and learn how to trust again.

I hope for our success,
not another load of unrest,
or you , left feeling upset.

We might not end up being soulmates
or even romantically involved.
But whilst we communicate,
our honesty is enough to open pathways
into something breathtaking.

However, there is a darkness that hides
behind my poetic lines.
This darkness is an uncertainty,
an unpredictability.
It has the ability to leave one
feeling like a casualty.

Amidst this truth,
I can only hope
that this is not another mistake waiting to happen,
another event to add to the pattern.

I admire your gentleness,
I admire how you try to soothe my doubts.
However, this uncertainty will always linger,
hopefully it will not lead us to an inevitable failure.

It felt vain to believe
any possible attraction
you could have felt towards me.

I, full of various defects
could not have possibly
caught your eye.

I, tainted and full of sins
could not have aroused
any emotions of passion,
love and devotion.

The rotating cogwheels of my mind
could not fathom how any man
could look me in the eyes
and romantically declare
his undying love to me.

But you did .

Mothers says that doubt is bad .
She says that If I doubt that
something would not happen
Then it might never come to be.
This is the fear that consumes me .

I am afraid that my doubts will never
Let me have all I desire most .
I am afraid to float like a feather,
Overpowered by the wind, hitting the ground
Then floating again in the wind.

I am afraid that I am a feather always pushed and shoved
To live another beings dream.
I am afraid that being an oddity will bring me persistent solitude
Even if it is unwanted .

My doubts are however masked by a painful bravado; a
Pretense, a burden, a lie.

Under all my hard wire
and metal exterior
lies a heart that beats.
And with this heart,
I breathe.

Withered roses rushed up on shore ,
petals in tact but a sickly brown.
Three unknown but one of yours
makes me cringe and turn around .

Sometimes, vices seem more
                 attractive
     and virtues seem more
                 destructive

What is it about stairs?
Walking down is
Done reluctantly
But walking up is done
Gleefully.

Walking down
Flights of stairs
Feels like
Walking into
A solitary nightmare.

Walking up
Flights of stairs
Feels like an escape
Into relief,
It’s like walking
Into the light,
Feeling light
Like a leaf,
Walking into
A door to the skies
Were the clouds
Like soft beds
Give comfort.

One can look below
At tiny dots of
Life, going and going,
Wind blowing
People screaming,
Chaos and serenity
Almost battling each
Other to maintain
unity.

From above,
There is much to see,
Much to feel
And time to heal.
But eventually high
Will inevitably
Lead to a low
And one must return
To the show.

One must walk
Down a flight of stairs
And face their fears.

Within the abundance of beauties,
ranging from single cellular beings
to more complex beings like ourselves
and animals, stellar objects in the cosmos
and other objects here on earth,
there is still room for loneliness.

Because as we marvel and wonder about
the gifts of life as well as its essence,
we remain just human.

Our feelings still manifest. The problem
is communication. We cannot communicate
with earths and the cosmos's endless beauties.
There are many waterfalls, streams and stars.
We cannot communicate with them.

Loneliness slowly creeps in as we
are entranced by the universe, time
and earth.
When we are encompassed with our thoughts,
the greatest tragedy is when we cannot express them.
Maybe others care, maybe they do not.
The question is, are we willing to endure the pain
of silence ?

What is life when we cannot share our fears
and our greatest successes?
Our hopes and dreams,
thought and overall feelings ?

What is the essence ?

I sit in a pile of marketing and economics papers
And my exams are in one week.
Lethargically, I stare at these papers
Wishing I could throw them in the air
And follow my dreams .

Father, when I graduate and receive my degree,
when all you will see is my blank stare on
the pictures on your wall,
when I endure your dream,
when you accept that I am not you,
when you listen hard enough to hear
my distaste for your forcefulness,
how would you feel if you were in my shoes?