‘A blend of colors’
‘Streak of Light’
This was an idea suggested by someone very important to me. (Jellybro,this one’s for you!). However, it took me an actual year to write about it simply because the nature of topic lends itself to such variations in meaning. Whatever I write lends itself to your, the reader’s subjective imaginations as well as mine. Allow me to attempt.
Metamorphosis. A keyword I come across when I think of its meaning is usually ‘transformation’ – mostly in appearance and/or function. I don’t mean to make this purely intellectual or scientific or even that serious. But as a writer, or someone who writes as much as she can, ‘metamorphosis’ is extremely important.
Metamorphosis occurs on so many different levels to a writer. For example, there can be extreme transformation in the way one writes. Although I would like to believe in a gradual change in the way someone writes, it has often…
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There is a constant need for distraction. I write this from a place that people come to be such. Our minds require to be busy. With people, music, food, something. We long to be doing something and yet we find ourselves focusing on nothing. Short term attention spans. To even know someone else, forget ourselves. Like a phone that begins to lag abit after a years use, we refuse to be patient with people we know.
We long to be doing something, getting ahead, going faster yet reaching nowhere. We long for some destination and we do not focus on our path. There is a constant need for distraction. There is a need to be busy or appear so. To appear like we have no time to spare. If we dare be so with others, how about ourselves?
Even while we sit alone, we require to be entertained, to be stimulated. With our phones, with ourselves. There is a restlessness inborn. We are tired and fed up when we have reached where we have. The destination seems dry and the journey seems arduous and futile.
We require to be distracted. To be drawn away from this reality we live in . To reject or be entirely oblivious. Something needs to ‘happen’. And soon. All the better if it is to us. We need to reach somewhere. With someone. With something. Like life is a huge reel of accomplishments. Like every day in life is set up with a series of destinations.
Nothing scares us more than ambiguity. Nothing scares us more than nothing. Being nothing. Doing nothing. Everything needs to be clear, concise, put in stone and steel and paper.
“Book your flight to Istanbul now!” says an ad. Like some cruel joke. It hasnt even been a week since Ive deleted you off all my inboxes and erased all our history. Virtually of course.
It stopped being real for you.
I stopped being real for you.
I became someone else, somewhere far away.
“But we haven’t touched each other.”
I replied. “Priorities”.
That warm, pleasant morning
Held great prominence to me.
But my fear wrecked me greatly
I could not succeed.
Yet through my tears I’d seen
Your smiling presence, comforting me.
In the rain I walked
Been given chores to carry out.
Going back was not an option
But I no longer knew the direction.
Yet my disorientation was short lived
As I had you beside me to walk with.
Shivering in the cold
I was bound to fall ill.
The insensitively brutal weather
Showing no respite whatsoever.
But you sheltered me from it all,
Let me feel nothing at all.
Now years have passed and time is my only enemy.
I close my eyes and recall seeing you by my side endlessly.
I can’t be too sure though, if you were an illusion or a memory
It was so long ago, sometimes I question my sanity.
All truths are ephemeral, expecting otherwise is a futile tendency.
Evanescence is inevitable, nothing lasts for an eternity.
Big mass of energy
It’s hard to explain
It just wants to explode
It’s fighting its way out
Surroundings aggravating it.
Can’t swallow nor stop it!
Why is life being so unfair?
When finally the crossroad has been pared
Everything seemed to settle in its perfect places
And right about time something appeared.
It wasn’t unexpected but it had a bad timing.
Don’t be a hurdle I said.
Don’t be a hurdle I requested.
It didn’t listen.
My big mass of energy grew
Paining more this time.
I didn’t wanna fight it but it left me with no choice.
Now here it is,
I will speak
I will say
It will listen
It will understand.
It had its time now it’s mine.
I can decide
I look at devil hands,
And do I get scared?
Get frightened and yell,
Or call my best friend?
Instead I wonder why,
They so crooked,.
Unkempt; is the devil so disorganized?
Now I think of our similarities,
Huge pride, ego breathing,
I smile and say how right..,
Let me take a picture,
Poetic imagination, go wild!
The devil’s given up,
I guess from all I’ve learnt,
Horror movies or from how events turn,
Is that the best way to combat evil,
a simple problem and stress givers,
Is to comically laugh at their thought,
Because nothing is actually lost,
Even if the pumping of our blood stops.
Whether you are healthy,
Or totally drained,
There’s nothing to fear,
Death is just death,
The devil can’t do anymore,
He will be puzzled and ask what makes you so bold,
While all you can do,
Is sigh with relief..
You know it’s better to die,
Than look that wrinkled and old..
Blue, green or black,
I draw with them,
I don’t keep track,
Of all the pictures,
And whether I colour within the lines,
I just like the brightness,
Time passes by,
And sometimes I scribble,
Sometimes it’s dark,
Makes no sense,
Leaves a stain and a mark.
Does it matter?
I sometimes ponder and ask.
And when I look back,
There I know might be waiting,
A mess of colours,
Many many shades and paintings.
Well, whatever it is I am glad,
It’s not just white paper,
Unmarked and completely blank.
Just a shard of my heart,
I gave it away.
No questions asked,
Hoping doors would open,
No more windows.
Without a single audible tick.
Pills, cough syrup, vodka,
scissors, blades and knots.
Thought I could die
You keep a shard of me alive.