Another day goes by...

I look at my reflection
And I haven't grown,
The same eyes, wrought with boredom--
Makes me wonder what part of me was sold.

I hear the sound of blood flow
As my heart thrums in a simpering rhythm;
It gives me an assurance that I live,
But makes me question whether I'm truly alive?

I feel a slumber has taken hold,
It's got me where it hurts most;
I can't move away from the pain,
And that scares me!

A painful sleep, never waking, never dreaming,
Just suspended in simple stillness...
This dull affliction makes me wonder,
Will I ever remember what it's like to be awake?

There was a voice in my head,
Someone was screaming really loud;
I heard the voice from a distance,
I could barely make anything out.

I heard a voice at a distance,
The voice was mine, and it screamed;
I was screaming ****** ******,
I had murdered who I used to be...

I sat alone and aloof
A Book in hand
And words in mind,
Leaving my reality behind.

He came from nowhere,
Nowhere that I could see
And asked about the words I read;
But for all his words, my words were dead.

We spoke for a while,
Hot coffee warming our hands;
Smiles on our faces and hope in heart
We both played well the stranger's part.

With the hands of time in motion,
We spoke out our souls
Of our lives and our faces,
And our words and their paces.

Of the hours that hurt
And the words that burnt;
The sweet balm of love and care
And how life could, maybe, be a little fair.

He asked, at last, if my words were taken,
And I thought back to the boy
With whom my words belonged--
*I've given up my words far too long...

Walking in the garden,
I stepped onto the grass
Barefoot,
And revelled in the tingles
On the soles of my feet
That made me smile.

The grass was wet.
Absently, I sat myself down
And felt the grass in my hands...
'The grass is wet,' I thought,
'It feels nice, cool and peaceful,
But water doesn't catch fire...'

*Can the fire inside me burn in serenity?
Or will it burn out my peace
And c
          o
           n
          s
         u
         m
           e
               me?

We live in this world
And wake, walk, talk and take of it.
We gamble our survival by living here
And breathe and drink and eat and sleep in its shelter.
We seek ourselves and meet each other;
At other times, we thirst and hunger for a part of another's life.
We lust and crave and take pride in ourselves
While we look around for all that isn't ours.
We grab and we ******,
We demolish and destroy,
And forsake this world that sustains us.
We forgo our debts and shrug responsibility,
By walking away from what we have caused.
We leave nought but destruction in our wake
No matter where we go...

--

We are humans who can think.
We are beings with an intellect.
We are capable of communicating with one another...
And yet,
*We wear a mask we never take off...

The world I see
Is colored in red.
I know, I'm the monster
Under your bed...

You cry yourself
To sleep every night;
I speak to you,
Each. Word. Filled. With. Ssspite.

I like your flesh,
It's pink and sweet.
I want to bite it off
And taste your meat.

You're a bird in a cage,
That cage isn't mine;
You refuse to leave
Your self behind.

You're a willing puppet,
I'll play the puppeteer's part;
I'll tear open your flesh
And rip out your heart.

I'll torment and torture,
Till your words are stained red.
*Beware! I'm the monster
Under your bed...

She told them, 'I'm a star, not a circle!'
She's lost her limbs and bows her head;
*But atleast, she is a circle now...

Let's write ourselves a poem,
You be the verse, I'll be the rhyme;

Let's find ourselves a feast of words,
And slash them down on white.

Let's sit ourselves in a quiet corner,
So temptation isn't bright;

Let's be ourselves for each other,
And spend our days in the light.

Let's be together for once, forever,
The rest can wait in line;

Let's not change the mellow mood,
And forget the needle and the pine.

Let's lay by ourselves for a little moment,
While I spell our love out on your spine;

Let's share ourselves a life's dream,
And paint it on the starry skies.

Let's pen ourselves our memories,
To remember for all of time...

*I told you we'd write ourselves a poem,
But you ditched me for the dime!

We live under the sun,
Its brightness warming us,
Leading us to every other minute,
One moment at a time;
It casts our shadow on the wall.
But in every moment we live,
We forget.
The shadows, they lengthen till dusk,
And vanish in the dark.
And we don't miss our shadow,
We don't remember.
That gentle touch that didn't leave a mark,
But marks our existence in the light...

Just as we don't always remember,
The gentle love shared with us
In a stranger's smile.
A smile, which with a helpful hand,
Lifts us up and tells us we were seen.
*A gentle touch that doesn't leave a mark,
But acknowledges our existence in this busy, busy world...

The beauty of chaos is that,
It doesn't always stand for destruction;
Sometimes it's merely a lack of structure.
It's Fate, undergone a twisted lobotomy...

--

You're caught in a whirlwind, with no sense of direction;
Once the storm has passed
And the feeling of sanity is restored,
You get up and walk on,
On whatever path you've been dropped on;
And after a few miles you'll ask yourself:
*Was it all meant to be?

We walk around in solitude,
And stand by ourselves.
Our eyes see each other:
Flesh, and flesh alone is what we see,
It's what we seek.

We want the outer shell.
The soul is just an addition on the inside;
A thing hidden from the world,
That's not to be considered:
Just ignored and suppressed.

We're dominated in our minds,
We're slaves of the likes and the trends,
We want to be who they see us as,
But they, but we, but everybody can only see the flesh;
And that is what we seek.

We won't believe in what can't be seen.
We've grown to forsake the lurking monsters,
They were banished by rationality;
And when our conscience raises it's head,
It's just ignored and oppressed.

We've turned into Automatons;
Mannequins, who can style themselves.
The soul, hidden inside,
Is something that can't be seen,
And so, it isn't considered, isn't wanted;
Only flesh is what we seek.

While our soul shrivels up, decayed and decrypt,
Our flesh, we keep intact.
We swallow the infernal ache,
And plaster the cracks on our smiling face--
And the cries of our soul, we keep repressed.

*For, we care for what they see.
They can only see the flesh,
And flesh is what they seek.

Remember the first good day we spent?
The sea washed out the sand at our feet,
The city lights twinkled like the stars above.
Only, these were the stars we could touch.
It was the first I'd seen of your carefree laugh;
I told myself then, I haven't seen it enough.
I still haven't had enough of it...

She said, 'The city lights are the stars,
They twinkle in the shrouded night.
I have been waiting for someone
To help me reach for the light.'

It's like I'm in a dream...
Were we together in our past lives?
I was holding this torch forever,
In the darkness, I could only burn bright,
For my neverending love, to seek the forgotten light;
To reunite, and spark into flames together,
Like the Sun, warming, *burning, with it's light;
And I finally found you, through all those blackest nights.

He said, 'If this was meant to be,
I will die over & over again to be in different eras with you.
*To live forever despite living various lives,
To live in the end and die in the beginning!'

We live another complication everyday,
Adding another thread to bind us.

It's been so long...
Can't move my wings, my limbs--
How did I get stuck?
Did I do this to myself?
The *puppeteer is pulling too hard!
I want to move,
But I can't
I'm twisted up,
The thread is too tight;
I can feel the dread of suffocation on the horizon.
I'm trying, I'm fighting,
I want to be free!
But I can't move anymore...

The thread won't let me,
The strings are being pulled too tight--
My prison, it cuts into my skin,
I can barely breathe enough to live on...
I want this suffering to end!

Aah! Yes...
I remember now,
I took the thread of my own free will!

It started that day...
When I heard them speak,
I did as they asked,
And the thread wound around me.
I didn't ask for answers and didn't speak of my questions;
I kept on going where their path lead,
And I ended up here:
Suffocated, stranded, in naïve ignorance.

Even though the puppeteer wants me to move,
Even though I can feel his anxiety to help;
He can't do a thing.
The thread has been wound too tight,
*If the thread won't snap soon,
I will.

It's easy to be good at many things,
It's sad to be known for just a few;
It's alright to try everything once,
But it's hard to be an Ace among the crew.

It does take a lot of courage
To accept the norms and later pine;
But to stand up to what you believe in--
That takes a hell of a thick spine!


People call it arrogance,
To walk away from the crowd;
But with time, the one who walked away,
Is the one who walks proud.

Free will is an illusion for many,
It's a social necessity to walk in a herd;
Society accepts you on its own conditions--
Which if not fulfilled, you remain unheard...

There's a monarchy of tradition,
That feeds a monopoly of disappointment;
It's your charity to their egos,
That secures your appointment!


Go, find where you belong,
Amidst this raging tide;
Swim through the mailstorm,
Pull at the chains that keep you tied.

Break free of those psych bonds,
Move out into the light;
Rid yourself of that ancient poison,
And proclaim your own path as right.

Overdone rituals and the burden of traditions.
Peer pressure and annoying gossip prevailing above reason and reality.
The unwarranted compulsion of academic excellence, with no acceptable compromise!

Our rotten society and it's cruel, cruel judgment!
Living in a body, no, it's a cage--
Craving acceptance in isolation--

The cage became a cave
And eventually, the door shut.

It got so dark inside,
I could only see black...
I was sick of it!
Frustration rising to the point of retardedness!
Angry! So very ANGRY!
I wanted to defeat it,
This darkness on the inner side.
So bad, the ache for reprieve was getting worse!
So desperate!
For a way out...

Then, inspiration struck!
And a melody chimed its way in.
With the clock going tick tock
I imagined a chocolate block;
And I ate my way out!

*I've never bothered with their rules again.

Their laugh was your alarm,
You woke up to find yourself down.

Don't let your awakening be caught
In the circle of sleep and sentience again.

Live. In every moment. Don't close your eyes anymore.
Don't rest now. An uneasy siesta just isn't enough.

Saddle your dragon and fly to the limitless sky.
Breach your extremes and push through them.

Let your armor shine, let them know they forged it.
The pain they caused, it has welded with your skin.

When you arise from your trial,
*The next time they laugh, there won't be tears in your eyes.

That day was the first time
That I saw the light.
Out of a carton, and onto a shelf.
My life was about to begin,
But I was alone and confined.

I could feel a presence to my left,
And another to my right,
But no one to please my eyes.
Till the little boy came,
With the tingle of a bell.
Wonder, gleamimg in his eyes;
He looked around and smiled.

He ran straight to my rack,
Brimming with excitement,
And jarred me with the shake of a lifetime.
Jumping to get his mum's attention,
He said, "I wan' this 'un!"

I felt a pang in the middle of my molded chest,
And I wished I could keep that smile.
I tried to imitate the little boy,
But for all my wishes I could not move;
I was but a plastic doll: armed, clothed and inanimate,
Stored to be sold...

The little boy was a joy to see,
Every morning he would wake up to me,
He would speak to me while going to school,
And play with me instead of eating his food.

His father and mum were hardly home,
He stayed with his nanny and loved her so,
But talk was little for the endless chores.

Late at night when his parents would come,
He would try to talk to them,
But was rushed away with talk of excuse.
In the dark he lay, tucked in with me,
Tears would stain the covers and me,
He held me close as he shut his eyes,
And the next morning again he'd wake to me.

For a life to be spent alone is sad indeed,
With a world so big and plenty,
To have not a soul to talk to can be lonely.
He cried with me by his side,
Thinking he was all alone;
If only I could move this plastic form,
I could let him know it wasn't so!

He played with me day and night,
He kept me close when he shut his eyes,
He took me to his school and everywhere else,
He gave me friends: his other toys and himself;
But his tears every night always stained my heart,
I strived so much to play my part,
To make him smile from dawn to dusk,
To comfort him when smiling was tough.

This cursed life I wish to forfiet,
If only once I could shed but a tear along with him--
*Even toys have things and people
They wish to protect and cherish,
But tears won't fall from these tin eyes...

I've had a life in the arms of peace;
I've lived a life with a heart for love.
I've been content in the themes of sorrow,
And the seasons of delight.

I've seen chapters start and end.
I've completed numerous volumes,
In the ink of tears and smiles;
And moved onto sequels and new characters.

--
My story is simple and incomplete--
It isn't a tale yet, just a work in progress.
It lives in the fulfilment of my dreams;
I wish to make it a masterpiece!

I hope I succeed till my last season,
Little by little, minute by minute...
Living in the throes of vibrancy,
Without regrets and with a hint of grace.

I wish to grow into an oldie in that last winter,
With a garden full of trees, each tree a completed story.
And I hope I can remember my dreams as my life;
*Even at the end, I wish for the peace of fulfilment.

Freedom,
Like the rain, it washes all away
Past memories, horrors - everything is rinsed away; relief remains.
It feels like sand between your toes,
Leaving you lost in your impulsive throes.

Freedom,
In her dissolving smiles,
Her mischievous flirts,
Her sweet small skirts...

You've missed her for so long...

The touch of her spine,
The caress of her thighs,
The weightless good byes--

Ah! Freedom, *she smells like rain...

By following the light,
You will break yourself.
You will be punched and pushed,
And stretched to lengths
you never thought you could venture.
But you will survive.

The light saves you from that decaying part of you that would be your demise.
It heals you and makes you whole.
By destroying you,
and putting you back together.
Tighter.
Stronger.

--

A new day,
A new person.

You rise from the fire;
The flames lick your skin.
They feel warm,
And you feel rejuvenated.

You are reborn from fire, from the light,
And light you become.

--

The darkness is repelled by your presence;
You have broken free of your deficiencies.
By conquering your demons,
You have proved yourself above the dark.

The blackness is trapped beneath your feet,
*It can never control you again...

I'm a steamroller on a highway,
Unstoppable, and gripped by craze.

'Get out of my way! I'm coming through!'
My vision's blurred, I'm trapped in a haze.

I swerve to the left, then swerve to the right.
Through the windshield, I see the moonlight;

Bright and shining; shining, bright,
Everything is coherent in that bright light.

The bang shocks the ride, and the glass shatters;
It's that rare moment of clarity...

The weeping bark is my destiny,
And I swerve again to meet the tree.

I've broken through my shell,
And I stand exposed.

So this is how the levee breaks...
I can hear the river barging as it explodes.

My crystal barricade has been breached.
There's no escape, there's no defense.

The night's conspiracy is in fruitition.
And I rest my case, cease pretense.

The moonlight was a gentle kiss,
On this night, it wasn't alone...

You were the target I was destined to miss;
I'd lost the mortgage for my time loan.

--

My number was up, I was your slave
Funny how that worked out

On saving you,
My core reactor burned out.

The little boy in the moonlight
Was the reason for my demise.

Were you my personal demon?
Or my salvation, my prize?

--

You devoured me, I worshipped you.
Then up you got, and there you left.

Guess you were my demon then...
You abandoned me, bereft.

You rushed in,
Charging through her barriers;
You wanted her, so you had her--

Then, you simply up and left,
*And she was wrecked...

To be beautiful
Is to be almost dead,
Is it not?

Your voice is never heard,
'Cause your face talks too loud...

I hate who they think I am,
And as a result, I hate them.
That's why I don't like a lot of people--
*You see, it's their fault!

'Life is still a blank canvas', he said.

So she told him to paint a house.
All fenced up,
And to color the grass extra green.
(So that temptation wouldn't court him)

'Why that picture?', he asked.

She replied, *'Because no matter where you go,
Your roots should always bring you home.'

'Because even if the sky is the limit,
And you reach it, the greenest grass
Even from way up above,
will always be your beacon.'

'Because change should be a shade vibrant,
Only then change could mean growth.'

'Because that home you build,
Will be your resting place.
After you've conquered your dreams--
It'll be your place of ease.'

'And', she said, 'because marks and goals
are set first,
the course decided later.
Lastly, *because those pictured endings,
are the best place to begin.'

You were supposed to give of yourself--
Your angel dust was dragon fire;
*The spark to her funeral pyre.

Twice upon a time, did our worlds collide.
Two pairs of limbs, had broken ties.
Two worlds had ended, when one began;
As a new dawn crept, I held your hand.

"As the same fire assumes different shapes
When it consumes objects differing in shape,
So does the one Self take the shape
Of every creature in whom he is present."
(Katha Upanishad II.2.9)

"As the rivers flowing east and west
Merge in the sea and become one with it,
Forgetting they were separate rivers,
So do all creatures lose their separateness
When they merge at last into pure Being.
There is nothing that does not come from him.
Of everything he is the inmost Self.
He is the truth; he is the Self supreme.
You are that Shvetaketu, you are that."
(Chandogya Upanishad IV.10.1-3)

I don't understand,
Why, in this land,
Where these sacred
scriptures were written,
Were so many religions born--

I don't understand,
How, in this land,
Were differences encouraged,
When the backbone of all life
Always was recognized as liberation--

The acknowledgement
Of all different religions, castes, creeds,
Really broke the deal you know...

Imagine, if all the cultures were mixed
Instead of being *separated, unconnected, segregated;
And churned into a liberal philosophy
The Philosophy of Liberation (read: Moksha)
We'd have prevented so many wars,
All fought under the cloak of differences and disparities;
We could have averted
So much bloodshed,
So many innocent screams--

And these shudders down your spine right now?
They would be the product of fiction;
Not the echoes of cruel reality...

She sings her sweet songs,
Calling all the sailors home;
*A homing beacon.

You get up every morning,
When the sun gets up from sleep;
Thinking about the day that passed,
And the memory that you'll keep.

You'll fall in love with hope again,
And begin to hate despair;
But you forget to see how both of them
Come together in a pair.

Time goes on like a rolling stone:
As love is lost and found;
It doesn't mean that you surrender,
And lay flat on the ground.

Life's too short to mope around,
And think of all things bad;
It's a one-time chance so live it out,
And forget what makes you sad.

My mind is the only thing
that keeps me from going insane...

Do not look at me like that.
With those eyes that see only what is shone to you.
And you accept all of it.
No questions asked.
No logic, no reason to seek.
No.
I am not just an object you can look at.

Do not look at me like that.
With the judgment of their thoughts
That you so shamelessly replicate
in your feeble, feeble mind.
No originality.
You bore me in your dullness.
No.
I am not who you think I am.

Do not look at me like that.
With ears filled with their whispers.
I can hear them too, you know.
You're not very discreet.
No.
I am not defined by the stories they say.

I am not an open book,
Or a single shade,
Or a monotone.
I feel nothing for their interests.
I am not alive in their ballads of woe.

I am alive in myself.
I am the abstract, I am the obtuse.
My colors, range to infinity.
My stories have happy sad tormenting everafters.
I do not care for their hollow affection or their false ratification.
I am unattached and I breathe fire--
in.
out.

I'm ablaze in my little place of ease.
Even alone, I have found my love...
She was there along.
Residing in me,
It was always--
me.

*I am myself. That is enough.

A voice speaks...

You hate me.
Yes.
You do not play with me anymore.
You do not think me *worthy.
You do not recognize yourself.
Do you not see what is inside You?

You answer, 'I do, I choose not to give you power.'

And yet you spend your days in the decadence of war, sorrow, suffering, jealousy, anger, death,
and with all that, I grow inside you.
Bit by bit, breath by breath, every single second...
I flourish in the dark of your heart.
The abyss where you stack your loneliness.

Know your true self.
Face me now, in this dark hour,
or I will devour you.

The light in you retaliates...
You protest, 'You are not a part of me.'

I am a part of you, a part of all that lives.
Why do you hate what gives you power?
You do not think me worthy...

You brace yourself to face this self,
a part of you...
The flame in your veins burns brighter;
A new resolve...
You say, 'I do recognize you..
Yes.
You are a part of me.
But you have no power over me.
Through patience, compassion, courage, bravery, serenity, and all the light that flows to positivity,
I gather my strength and I control you.
You do not control me.
You are that dark part,
deep inside, where you claim to stay;
And you will live there always,
For I reject you.

You are a mere reflection of my hubris
and the shadow of my soul.

*The beast is me, and I am the beast.
To deny you simply gives you power.'

I heard a sob from behind the curtain,
In the darkness, I strained to look through;
It was not cloth, *that was a bar.

when it aches,

with every breath;
in out in out in
out.
each inhale exhale punctuated with a sharp pang of pain that leaves you gasping on the floor.

when you bleed,

and you can't find a puncture wound;
drip drop drip drop drip
drop.
the crimson nectar that flows out of your veins, fleeing from your heart, evading you.

when you go blind,

your head aches;
bang bang boom bang bang
boom.
a hammer tolling on the top floor of your anatomy, like that church bell you religiously avoid.

when sounds get overwhelming,

screeeeeeechy sounds,
that make you want to jump off a cliff.
as if your ears decided to behave like 'whats-her-name' at 'holy-****-that-time-of-the-month!'.

you should know then, that you've been shot;
right at that literal sweet center spot.

and you've fallen hard,
for that treacherous huntress.
who would chew you raw,
with all her blunt honesty,
with all her fierce stubbornness,
with all her untamed compassion,
not to forget, her screaming womanhood
you can't get your eyes off...

the one who would walk all over you,
in her not-less-than-seven-inch Steveies';
and wouldn't give it a second thought.

and you know,
in that torn tattered broken cardiac ***** at your core,
*that you would let her...

They haunt you,
They inspire you;
They make you travel far far away,
But they are not true.

They make you wonder,
What is really around you;
They leave you almost speechless,
But they do not define you.

They are not spoken in words,
But play like a movie centered around you;
They seem real when you're in one,
But they do not control you.

People say dreams help us escape to a place
Different than what surrounds you;
It seems almost like an awaited vacation,
But it does not transform you.

Dreams are complex to explain,
And simple to have;
They come when we sleep,
But we can't choose which one to have.

They are unpredictable and changing,
Sweet to begin with then turn into nightmares:
Its like you start with dreaming of teddys,
And then end up chased by grizzly bears!

They can be sweet and peaceful,
And even bizzare and surreal;
The trick to enjoy the constant surprise,
Is to keep in sight what is real.

*Dreams are perceptions,
Could be illusions or deceptions too;
But don't stop dreaming yet,
'Cause someday they could come true.

Because it's the only way
to find some release...
to write down the words...

Life is simple,
but the human mind,
our heart
and our hormones (usually raging)
make it seem complex
and confusing.

And this society we have built for ourselves?
To help us progress...
It doesn't help either.
It merely adds another variable
to the logarithm called life
we're already breaking our heads on.

Writing poems,
penning down your thoughts
or even just labelling your confusion
by giving them words...
it's all writing,
it all means 'to create something'.
Depending on what one wishes to create,
they write a poem or a passage or an essay or prose,
or even a book.
It's an individual's choice.
It's that person's choice.

The words come.
Even we writers do not know where they come from,
but they do.

And when they do, we write. On paper or tissues or newspapers or any means available to us, like desperate beings, finding an outlet, we write...

People write about a lot of things,
feelings,
things they're attached to,
about people as well,
when the only way they can bear the words to flow is rhythmic,
maybe because if those intense words came out raw,
they'd devour the speaker
or the speaker would eat them up.

It's confusing even to us...why do we write?

Just remember,
if you've ever been a muse in someone's work
(be it a poem or prose or a song
or a photograph or a drawn/painted picture),
know that you've been adored and cherished
and you've touched that person's life
and left an imprint.
One he or she wants to immortalize
in the one way they know how to.

Do not take that lightly.

*Words mean something to us writers
and blank pages make us ache,
and even we don't know why that is...

light dark bright black white,
the yin and the yang of time;
morning, day then night.

fiction: the figment of a great writer's imagination.

the words, ink on plain paper;
feeble in their existence,
tell me to be *fierce and compassionate.
to have something to love,
more deeply than any being is capable of;
to try...
so that there is something my soul will reside in,
which is not me,
something I can face a fight to death for...

they are not only books.
they are the silent teachings learnt by these authors,
living through hardships.
they are metaphors,
symbols of lessons to be applied in our lives.
their passion, their wounds, living inside of their words;
they speak to us readers,
in their meek mild voices;
to hope,
to have faith,
to believe in something someone beyond ourselves,
to be human in the face of impossibilities,
eve­n through difficult dark times,
to be humble in the face of success­,
to ride our dragons into oblivion,
to hunt them down and slay them like wolves,
to never­ give up...


*'Winter is coming'
'We must try not to sink beneath our anguish, but battle on.'
'Do or do not. There is no try.'
'A hero can go anywhere, challenge anyone, as long as he has the nerve.'
'You endure what is unbearable, and you bear it.'
'If you have the soul of a warrior, you are a warrior.'
'We will not just be another piece in their games.'
'Fear doesn't shut you down. It wakes you up.'
'Old things are better than new things, because they've got stories in them.'
'Not all those who wander are lost.'
'We accept the love we think we deserve.'
'Grief does not change you. It reveals you.'
'This is my family. I found it all on my own. It's little and broken, but still good. Yeah, still good.

A friend to have,
A walk in the rain;
Drowning in the droplets:
To forget about the pain.

A hand to hold,
A heart to touch;
Requesting that your heart
Wouldn't hurt so much.

A light to guide,
A lesson to seek;
Trying your best,
Though chances seem weak.

Some Faith to behold,
A truthful tale;
Mending the peices,
Of a heart rendered frail.

A simple love,
A day in the sun;
Loving each other:
Two hearts, as One.

The angel that fell,
The one bound in hell;
Burning in fires deep and dark.

Banished from heaven,
His sins they call seven;
He eats off their bones like a shark.

Liars and cheaters,
Thieves and deceivers;
They squirm as for hell they depart.

He breeds on their fears,
He laughs at their tears,
And squeezes all hope from their heart.

He owns all their souls,
Makes them walk over coals,
He tortures their spirit with his fork;

He whips open their skin,
While he burns up their kin,
And slaughters their faith just like pork.

With hate for a heart,
He plays well his part,
As he waits for a new light of day;

A day when he shall be free,
And roam the earth with glee,
While those who banished him shall pray.

But pray as they may,
For another Godly say,
No warmth shall break through the cold;

While innocents are slayed,
And daylight delayed,
And stories of hope sell like gold.

I found my love,
*He told me to wake up!

The skies collapse;
Heaven's bright light,
the angel light,
floods through the gap.
The gap,
the inbetween,
with eons of history,
of wars
and of bloodletting...

Can
this
ethereal
shine
save
us
?

They say we are Different;
But how can that be true?
When all I see,
Is me and you.

Earth is but a ball of dirt,
Devoid of man's treaties;
Still, it sustains within itself
Thousands of different species.

So why by them were these
Distinct separations made?
Why were colours distinguished,
And Humanity left to fade?

What is their purpose
Of praying to God above,
When his creation of a Heart,
They condemn without Love?

They walk the same soil;
They breathe the same air;
They drink the same water,
Then why do they despair?--

It's not Faith as they call it;
It's Vile Hyprocrisy redefined,
That leaks Doubt and Angst
Into a perfectly Tolerant mind.

For they frown at our Choices,
They mock at our Bruise;
They scorn at our Differences,
But our Similarities they refuse!--

It's a matter of the mind,
That plays forth illusions;
*Differences are evasive maneuvers
Against mental intrusions!

standing alone,
confused,
you stare at the world ahead,
a life you'd once imagined in your head...

weeping quietly,
you hurt,
you finally acknowledge the dull hum,
the loneliness that made you numb...

waiting patiently,
you hope,
refusing to go down without fighting,
struggling to emblaze the torch you're lighting...

dreaming serenely,
you wish,
to see her again, to say it out loud,
explaining that your heart is ever afloat the cloud...

singing softly,
you rejoice,
she's standing at your door, torn and dazed,
glad you weren't just a memory she crazed...

vowing silently,
you've fallen,
she's in your arms for now forever,
for her, you'd brave a year of stormy weather...

*you'll never let her go, never again...