Do you relish the sound of the spoken word?
Do you savour the way it engulfs the senses in a whirlwind of joy and despair? Anguish and patience... Doubt and surety... Land and sky... Beauty and darkness... Do you drink it up to a stupor, and only hope you had the laden voice to even emulate a fraction of the splendour... The tiniest spark of the genius that comes so easily for those who are one with themselves? It's the honesty and truth. The seed that resides within the covering of sweet or bitter flesh. The meaning and purpose behind every emotion, thought... and spoken word - that has me ensnared always...
in the sky. Feast of pastel colours of sundown. Nestbound birds sang up a cry. Alone I sat, grass-crested mound. Inhale a breath, exhale a sigh... Pocket of bliss, peace on earthly ground.
•high in the
mountains, he grew we- ary and ragged• • his sight turned cloudy, chin un- shaven and face hag- gard•removed his boots for his feet did stink• sleep he wanted but not without a drink•one big swig and he downed it all• then he was asleep before the sun could fall•many days visited, many shadows cast•over this slum- bering man, many moons had passed •one fateful day, his eyes did twitch and then did open•he sprung aw- ake to the life he had forsaken•his musket dusty, his clothes in di- sarray•his chin - a long beard that has seen countless days•he ran to his home before noontime chime•he found only disbelief, for he had slept a lifetime•
A nighttime recess.
An awareness embedded within the thickened folds, layered - one upon another. Second upon second. Minute over minute. Hour after hour. Rendering me unheard and vague. A stream of consciousness that runs uncaptured. Unexplained and unreasoned. Consistent and tiresome. Haphazardly predictable. Routine like clockwork.
What he didn’t say
with voice, he spoke clearly with tears that never left his eyes.
emotional mines. Set to go off at the slightest... .......... ......... ........ ....... ...... ..... .... ... .. . BOOM!!!
This day is just a day.
A day that shines bright outside my window. I could see the unburdened footfalls of passersby - with their voiceless chattters, and spring-loaded gait. I could feel the warm breeze, greeting my face as I stood by the window, enjoying its play round my hair and ears. I could smell and taste the crisp air - laden with chances and opportunities. Available, accessible and within reach. Only if one so desires to grab at them. This is just a day. One amongst many that I had failed to be a part of.
If these fingers touched ink,
let what flows be untainted and true; unsmeared and sure. If these hands mould clay, let what is made be sturdy. Be uncracked, unblemished and smooth like porcelain. If this body pivots upon legs, let it stand upright and tall. So no wind could fell it down. But should it topple, let no earth will it shatter. If this mind invites another, let no thought nor idea adulterate its own... For its ways may wind and meander, but it is obstinate. If this heart still beats, no matter how faint... Let its rhythm be steady and unrelenting. So it might echo through long days and moonless nights to find others like it. Then, I may not feel so alone.
and action must go hand in hand. Because sugared words are much too brittle.
I often see myself...
Sitting in the shade of a lone old tree set in the middle of a field, on a warm, breezy afternoon. Leaning upon the trunk, I’d feel its gnarly bark gently pressing into the softness of my back. Making it seem as though in turn, the tree, too, leaned on me. As my fingers play with the tips of grass that grew lush around me, I’d think of people I know. And whom amongst them would share this joy like I would. I would spend many moments concocting poetic lines in my head; As my eyes trace the haphazard flight of butterflies. An occasional gust would come and sweep up the fragrance of nature into the air. I inhale... Sweetness... It lingers strong for a brief moment before receding into the folds and blending in with the smell of the earth and freshly trodden on grass. Such a day would only induce calmness and peace. Such a thought would seem too far to grasp. But such a dream keeps me hoping.
We all negotiate this precipice
In a file towards the same. Some walk, some tiptoe. We do it in our own way. We all roll the dice. We all progress different, when we play this game. But in the end we’d be together... Sharing the ground we shall sparsely lay.
They say we are but leaves.
Unwittingly we waiver with the slightest caress from the sun. With excitement we shudder, when given a sliver of attention from the moon. And we rustle with childlike glee, when the daytime breeze whispers its secrets playfully. We dance, gambol and frolic... As we celebrate our flightiness of spirits in exuberant jubilee. Because today... We are welcomed here. We are children of the world. Seedlings of the universe. And we revolve around a nucleus, an anchor, a steadfast tree.. That is you...
Are we worthy
of passing eyes Do we catch the stealing glances Will we save our world from demise Can we not be afraid of taking chances
Will you be the ears?
The ears to my words. Will you be the eyes? The eyes to my falls. Will you be the shoulder? To which I depend on. Will you be the listener? And hear my calls.
cast into the night With hope and longing dangled as bait Encapture what answers hidden from sight Time’s almost up, as dawn awaits at the gate
their innocent eyes would ask the most difficult of questions. My heart would stall. My tongue would stiffen. And my eyes would answer back with tears.
The quakes in my breath when I sleep,
I hear they’re frightening. Yet I never do wake... The jerks in my muscles when I sleep, I hear they’re startling. Yet I never do wake... The beats in my chest when I sleep, I hear they’re disconcerting. Yet I never do wake... Perhaps it’s because I was at my most comfortable.
Do not fear the shifting sand
under the weight of your feet. For you may not know balance, without the test of instability.
I await such time,
my toes would dig. And spear deep into the earth; take root and keep me planted. I await such time, when my trunk - my core would regain its strength. So that I wouldn’t sway too easily in the wind. I await such time, my bark would thicken - like carapace upon the flesh. So I may be protected from scathing lashes of ravenous tongues. I await such time, my branches would reach up with unwavering conviction. Knowing the clouds in the sky would be the cushion and salve to my gnarled digits. And I await such time, my leaves would finally sprout and green. Then they could rustle and whisper the tales and hopes of my past, present and future.
We must look at
the paths we traverse. For they meander... Some would loop. Some would cross. Some puncture boundaries. Some stay safe. So, look at the paths we choose to travel. Because some may take some. Others may take it all.
Cast of clay. Had basked in the sun. Deepened lines marked their faces and enlarged cracks marred their backs. Rough and matured. They spoke the language of old and hid the ancient ruins of the past. Held together. Side by side, they clenched the fantastical ideals of today. However, uncertain and pulled apart... The future just falls away - a ghost. A mirage that eludes grasp and capture.
Back of her hand
ran across the red on her lips. Smearing what once was delectable. Attempted to wipe the drops which quickly turned to rivulets, running black down her cheeks.
O beautiful sunshine, may you beam
On a dishevelled soul as it may seem Reach for the deepened crevices Let light illuminate the darkness O beautiful sunshine, may you bathe Upon a weepy morn that wished you’d save Let no mossful stone be left unturned Let there be hope to those left spurned
A new day
would come, in all it’s dew-scented glory. And I would rise... But with yesterday’s eyes.
on firm, hard ground. Futile footfalls on sinking sand. Dazed and confused by the sights and sounds. Losing balance in familiar lands.
So that my fist
would relent and bloom like a flower given rain and sun. So that one day it might unfurl to willingly take what comes.
And I’ll show you
fantastical things. Come into my head. Know my wants and desires. Witness the height and raging fires.
My eyes can only scream
what my voice could not. And my soul would only break when my bones wouldn’t.
There is a song that I sing tonight.
Every night... A song made out of the sighs in my breaths. Words heavy and laden from the weight of my thoughts. A tune forlorn - from the wrenching of the heart. A song that I’ve taken to. A song I titled “Melancholy”.
None could have foreseen
a time so dire. For he is the man who set himself on fire.
Read between the lines.
You’d find that the words left unwritten would scream the loudest.
Finally trying doors.
Looking for spaces that would have me. Looking for spaces that’d fit. Most knobs... Cold. They haven’t been touched in a while. I’ve never bothered to try them. They’d probably would open up to empty spaces. How fitting... An empty space for an empty soul.
I have depression.
I suspect I’ve had it for a long time. It’s only recently I accepted it. Having this, is like have an insufferable house guest that just wouldn’t leave. He was never invited. I don’t even know why he’s even here. He’s very persuasive. He tells me things and shows me what I perceive to be my true value. I know he likes it here and I’ve had him for so long that I have found strange comfort having him around. At times, he may slip away without me even knowing. But at times, he’d show up. He’d make a grand entrance. He’d fuss. But I’d still wouldn’t realise. These days, people know I’m not alone. People know of him. People read and watch videos of him. I applaud them for trying to understand him. And our relationship. But it saddens me and it fuels him when the aids don’t do him any justice. They just allow people to think they know better. They think they’ve been educated and can start to administer help. They assume that you’re not heeding their advice. They think you don’t even try. But again I applaud them... For trying so very hard. This is me and I have a house guest that I’m sincerely trying to manage. I have depression.
Keep me safe.
Keep me unseen from eyes that ask incessantly. Keep me from questions with answers that reveal too much. Keep me dignified. Keep me filled what little I have left. Keep me sane. Keep me the same. Keep me collected. Keep me close. Keep me comforted in my sleep. Keep me from harm. From the monsters in my bed. From the demons in my head. Keep me safe...
I haven’t been honest.
I haven’t been for many years. Like a skill out of practice, I don’t know how to. Especially to myself.
Wish I could cradle you.
I’d keep the nightmares and heavy thoughts away. I’d hold you close and lull you to sleep. Alas I hold you but with demon arms.
Clutching an anvil
close to my chest as I struggle to tread the water. I’m sinking...
Run the bow across the strings,
and play a tune. Play my soundtrack. Play it soft yet sharp and wrenching. Play it in the background. Let the notes run in conflict, depict agitation and foster an increasing sense of foreboding. Because I lay still this night in perfect disharmony.
Is this why
my eyes cry and my heart is set aflame? Is this the reason behind aching muscles and weary joints? Is this the cause of my trembling digits and crumbling esteem? Or is it just mere overthinking and a sorry case of overindulgence?
I made a painting.
One of the future. My brush was sure my strokes, deliberate. I had chosen colours loud I had chosen them fearlessly. Think I’ve completed my painting. And I hate it.
I wasn’t so afraid
of shadows that stalk. Wish I wasn’t so afraid of demons that talk.
I stand here alone
With a head full of voices Perfect imbalance
Such anxiety that has me bound.
So tight I can’t breathe. Dispel this fear that I’m nurturing. These thoughts that have my lungs in its taloned clutch. Let not its grip tighten more. Let not the flame be extinguished. Let not the last dregs of my strength flee. Grant me the courage to once again triumph over the siege that has me... All bent misshapen and twisted in knots.
What once was stoic
and only showed strength, now slowly sinks and melts... Like a castle of sand on the shore, fending off the teases from the playful waves of the rising tide - but failed. What once was rock... Now submits to forces that meant to erode and break. Pounding, battering and eating into the outer carapace I’ve prided for years. What once was armour I thought impervious and would deflect, now threatens to collapse into itself. Like a weak submersible made for the shallows yet dove too deep, anticipating the impending crush at the end.
Fix the drama -
this play in my head. A convoluted tale that sees no end. A wrenching story entwined round an overused plot. A lone actor. Assuming different roles. The heart, the mind and sensibility. Words of comfort and swift resolve, evaporate quickly. Scathing verses take root and fester. Wayward thoughts and rising beats... Caught in an abrasive loop. Fix this drama - I keep playing in my head.
Catch me in a beat
In the way I was promised So that I won’t break
Catch me as I fall
Again I’m tripping over Truths and unsound fears
Catch them as they fall
For they each tell a story Of what’s left unsaid
I watch with no eyes
and listen with no ears. I am just the shadow cast still within that of yours. I whisper no words and scream without a voice. I am the quiet between each phrase, the pause before and after every thought. I reach with no arms and stand on no legs. I am the breeze you feel on windless nights. I feel with no heart but love with no boundaries. To most I am faceless, nameless and bear no threat. I am a sihouette in the distance no one notices. A ghost you know exists but don’t believe.
An ache that splinters.
Will it dull? A cut unseen yet draws so much red. Will it heal? A bruise that screams untouched. Will it subside? A cluster of thoughts that debilitates. Will they ****?