Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Jul 2014 Sunanda Pati
Lunar
beware when you fall in love
with an artist
be it a painter, a singer, or poet

for the artist will
paint you
with strokes and hues
in shapes of every kind

sing about you
with heartbreak lyrics
and feelings which rhyme

write about you
with the simplest words
and a secret message she wants to say

beware of the artist,
and her love
one wrong move
and you're an artwork in her display
 Jul 2014 Sunanda Pati
kenzo
Night.

It makes me sad that we choose to sleep at the prettiest time of the day.
Put down your phone. Pause what you're doing and go outside. Go outside and lay down and stare at the stars. Forget about everything for a while. The night sky is so becoming, isn't it? It makes me seem so small, like the speck of matter I am and feel. It's the time when my thoughts are efflorescence; when I grasp a pencil and begin to write down whatever visits my mind.

Though those thoughts are quite evanescent, and that seems to make my writing 10 times better than when the sun is present. (I write better under the influence  or when I'm depressed as well and I think that's ironic.) Maybe it's the lack of of halcyon from the sun, but when it comes to night, my emotions are lilting. Knowing that there is so much to this spinning colossal cylinder we live in that I have not yet explored and most likely never will makes me so unbelievably sad. Knowing that nobody seems
to acknowledge it anymore, that we are neglecting earth because technology and narcissist have taken their toll.
We are told we have freedom yet we spend more than 17 years in school full of ****-sapiens differing in traits, personalities, class and abilities. Traits that don't clash with yours, making it easier for them to judge you based on your differences from them, putting pressure and preventing some people to  be who they're not. It is human nature to judge what we don't understand. We are forced to get a job to pay for cars, houses, bills , insurance and  cigarettes (well, for some)
Go to college, fall in love, get married, have kids, watch them grow up and barley ever call you and then, you die. Congratulations, your skeleton is turned to ashes in a urn in your daughters closet tucked behind old boxes and you exist only in peoples memories and photographs and stories. It's something we neglect to think about, the truth.
At a young age, we are asked what we'd like to be when we grow up. Silly us, we responded with an astronaut, firefighter, doctor etc. Nobody ever told us that we most likely won't achieve those goals.
Nobody ever told us that through all the pain, you must maintain that grade because It's not about the lessons, it's just about your GPA and how good your memory is.If I could go back in time to my 6 year old self while being asked that as I play with my barbies, I would say I don't want to grow up. Life isn't dulcet. The word life itself isn't very mellifluous to
me. It only gets worse as you age, and thats the bitter truth.  All the people I love will pass away, more responsibilities and stress will be piled on me weighing me down, my lungs and heart might get weaker due to my nicotine and cannabis intake which is my panacea. Then again, you
can live your life as if you were to die any second, which you could.
For **** sake, I don't want to live a life of a normal human being. I don't want to follow the orders of life, I'm naturally rebellious, I hate living like this ******* it. But I have to. Pieces of paper run our whole entire world, community and ecosystem that we have completely destroyed. It doesn't matter how you are in person, all that matters is what is printed in files and
papers. Your future is based on how your grades are in school, not by our intelligence, but how different teachers graded you. Not only that, but some of our lives are lived by a book. Some of our lives are ended by a book, and destroyed by a book. The Bible, if you didn't catch my drift, and frankly I don't want to live by a book. I want my life to be my very own pastiche.
I want to travel, not only to every place on the planet, but in the stars and in space. I want to make imprints, to leave something behind as proof I was here, I was somebody, that I survived.
I want to come face to face with the man in the moon, to touch the milky way with the palm of my hands and I wouldn't even mind being ****** in by a black hole if it meant I  had the opportunity to be in space. This is what the world does to you. It makes you believe that you can achieve your dreams, that you can do whatever you want. That's the demon of it all.
I am so sick and tired of just staring up at the dead stars, smoking my cancer stick and imagining scenarios in my head. The stars make me feel so alive, yet so dead. Dead knowing that I'm probably never going to go up there, maybe in astral projection, but my meditation skills are not up to par.
When I die, I want my soul to be in space. I don't care how cliche that sounds, I want to be with my loved ones exploring the places unknown to the majority of  individuals on earth.
There is more to this earth than we know, life itself is one big mystery and I don't know how far the universe goes, and that to me is scary yet astounding.
It only makes sense that there is a world after this one. There just has to be. Think about it. We have no idea how earth got here. We know we're made of flesh and bone and stardust, but we have no idea how we are formed. We have theories, so many theories, but no proven facts as to why we are here. So many varieties of different life forms and different planets. There just has to be something after our organs give up on us. We're more than our organs, so much more. I don't know how to explain it. But I guess until my time to leave this earth for good comes,
I'll never know the denouement to life.

— The End —