ohso

the life of a flier as she lies to the higher
sense of reason as she's tired
waking up in the morning
crack of dawn she's still yawning
but she tumbles out of bed
like her life without warning
decides to expand till it fits
into all the places she's never been
all the places she wants to see
as she's chasing all her dreams
across the seas.

reeling in from the last one,
from the last night
from the last fight
that nobody sees
when he's grinding on someone else
and she thought he'd feel
something for her
like a little emotion never hurt anybody
we all have our scars
we still watch the stars
it's dark out here
and nobody will focus
on your disfigurations when they're
so enamoured by your light.

still no expectations is a tough call
living like a moment's gotta pull through
from a connection everyone thought was magical
but he doesn't seem to know
how when life knocks you down
you get up though, you get up
to see it in her eyes
that she isn't judging you
and you wake up to him
yearning to be forgiven
against the trauma of this world
and the wind couldn't get any colder
as it lashes across her shoulder
without an arm around her
without her personal sun in the winter
it's like a life she never lived
captured in a kodak moment
only good enough for firewood
something to keep her lonely days
warmer, better than nothing at all.
it's happened again.

nauseating to think that the only choices
she's got left is to live a life for herself,
a selfish girl returns selfish to the shelf.
like that's the only safe option,
what a lie in a kiss,
what a lie can be spoken in words that sounded so sweet.

thank you mr skype

today you asked me whether you could speak to your son.
i'm not even your wife.
you're not even my husband.
but i won't get involved.

take me back, to when we would laugh as the kid
walked out the door, in search of mom
who had left to look after her ailing father.
once, twice, thrice a month.
but we're okay.
because you took care of us,
we laughed at the kid.
who thought she was so far away
that she was in australia.
his "australian mama".

fast forward it a couple of years.
the faithful husband feels like the faithful extra.
the wound deepens as the money gets stuck
like a bone in his throat,
piercing through every time he speaks.
he rasps and cuts
with words in between his teeth.

one day,
she says i don't know what to believe,
he'll sell me for money,
he'll sell me real cheap.
so back we go, scarborough fair moved from down the road,
it's a live auction,
for what cannot be bought with gold.

i remember you washing toilets,
cooking lentils over a tiny stove,
your huge frame hovering over us,
making us eat, so you could watch us grow.
polishing our shoes till our faces shone in them,
brushing my hair, so the whole world could see
my face.

then i remember you defeated. pulling that knot of silk away from your neck,
a marks and spencers man, walking in shoes,
that previously we'd have to sell our souls to afford.
you'd sit down and simultaneously, a hand would extend,
the tv zaps on,
and you move from one world onto the next.

you never picked up a brush again,
and you certainly never scared me.
you got old,
and weary. and i could not give you anymore happiness
than a stamp of that A on a piece of paper you never had.
but i had other plans.
see i wanted to see the world, beyond the two extremes i had known.
i wanted to fly away like her,
and i want to feel what some feel,
when they discover they were made for more,
than living the stationary life between the strings of newton's cradle.
i was suffocating,
under your silence,
and yet you were unable
to snap out of your trance,
between the western unions,
and the local masters,
you tried to brave the whip,
but the lashes came.
bottle to your lips,
the lashes fade.
we remained,
we remain.

today you asked me whether you could speak to your son.
it'd been so long since i heard you.
i don't wear shoes that need shining,
my hair is always in my eyes,
my heart is hurting.
but of course, you can speak to him.
please, please, just don't ever ask,
me that again.
my friend,
my light,
my strength.

voldemort

i burned all my diaries.

i tore up anything, 

anything that held you accountable for what you did.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

i close my eyes.

swaying my head from side to side,

my limbs follow,

my hips too.

all of a sudden, 

i'm rising away high above the dull grey ground.

flashback,

clock ticking, ten twenty

sweating bullets, as it's getting heavy

burden like a leash on me,

it ain't on my back,

no they took i by the neck

leading me into the dark

with only a tug here, a tug there to follow

my feet don't stop

they take i 

they take i again and again

till the blood drips 

and i cry.

then i look down.

i left that behind.

i left them all behind.

and now, i'm flying.

i'm free.

but the cold air sweeps across my naked back,

and i'm reminded how metallic that concrete pavement tasted,

the day they threw me out.

for trying to help.

for shouting for peace.

i realised then

that i was too small to understand.

i was too dispensable.

because even in the grand scheme of things,

all that mattered was the way they treated each other.

every time they argued,

that leash would tear at the back of my neck, 

making red streams of tears flow,

tears my body cried

against the confines of my mind.

my arms are stretched away from each other.

i lift my head up high, and even though,

i'm losing altitude,

i'm plummeting,

i want it to end soon.

i know i'll meet my old friends again.

but i want them to know,

i'm no longer what they knew.

i take no sides,

i have no say.

i just want them to see,

that i'll be okay.

i'll crawl on without them,

they can leave their chains on me,

but i'll move on with them.

all that matters is how they treat each other.

because my life will go on,

i'll learn to fly again.

but they'll be left there,

alone on the ground,

if they don't learn to pull each other up,

to the skies,

to our eternal home beyond the stars.

where the greyscale of our lives,

the mundane existence we have lived,

ceases to exist altogether.

the scars left by your chains will heal,

but until then, 

when will you rid your own demons?

when will you join me?

i still love you.

i can't help coming back for you.

and every time it ends, with that metallic taste of blood and concrete in my mouth.

can't we make it different this time?

try harder.

please.

'no sound but the wind'

lashes of multi-coloured light
sirens that deafen you
that separate our rational senses from colliding
into submisson.

you can't hear yourself over the sounds of those screams.
quieten all around us, please
don't lose yourself
in the need to survive here
it isn't such a cold town.
it isn't such a cold town.

i'm banking on the sunshine
while i'm getting drenched by the tears you cry
late at night
when you miss his arms.

i'm fleeing from the train that rushes right behind me,
the train that's coming to get me to send me back home.
it's a war out in our minds,
but i don't want to be separated from you.
why don't you see that behind your clenched teeth,
it's okay to show me you want to cry?

why don't you see we all need to be laid down.
we can make this home.
we can mend ourselves.

"I"ll help you carry the load,
           I'll carry you in my arms."



No sound but the wind by Editors

This is not psychology

I think time was contracted to run faster as we got older. Or maybe we just got busier, we got heavier, we got slower.

Every day seems to move at a different pace bringing me new things every moment.

Every year seems to whitewash the last, a whole year of inescapable bubbles I found myself in, is pushed to the back of the shelf. Further and further till I have forgotten what those feelings were like.

The people that were a part of my life, the music that filled in the spaces when silence was nowhere around to quieten down the restlessness of a childhood passed from hand to hand.

I’m afraid that as we move into our futures, we lose our chances when we quarrel, when we slur against each other, when we are separated. When we are hurt, we start turning away from the world, we start turning our backs on our parents, and our siblings and we choose to forget them. We forget to take them along to share in our moments.

I know there are some things I need to experience for myself and I will, gladly. Space is something we all crave but at the same time, as easy as we demand it, that’s how quickly we want it to disappear. We try and wish it away, but we still feel cornered by what we have asked for.

I’m afraid that when I look into the future, I won’t see the people I love because I would have forgotten to love them. I would have just gotten angrier and angrier that they couldn’t understand me, how I grew and why I turned out to be the way I am. I forget that I didn’t give them the time of day, I didn’t let them care about me because when they tried, I didn’t explain. I didn’t want to take the effort with them. Instead, I wasted my time with strangers and people that took me for granted. I chose to tell them when they couldn’t care less about me or what would happen to me.

I told them anyway. Because telling them was easier, facing them felt lighter and talking to them, reaching out to them I did quicker than searching for the caring in my own blood.

I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to be detached. We all have to move on. But we don’t have to forget. I want to learn from them as much as I can. I don’t want to have to regret that I wouldn’t know what they’d say or how they’d feel. They are not my enemies. These are people that had lives before I happened. These are people that made plenty of their own mistakes. These are people that tried to be right and sacrificed who they were for me, so I could grow.

Who shut up, so I could rant. Who got hurt, so I didn’t have to.

But I did, I still did. Even after you stood to try and protect me, you didn’t protect me from yourself. I didn’t think it would occur to you how important you were. But now you do, you are what I know of love, sacrifice, pain, and strength.

drunk

it felt like flying
gliding, sailing,
fleeting away from you.

the other half of me.
the right half.

you saw through me,

this incongruous feeling.

this breach of a parameter.

i crossed the line.

i turned off the lights.
and danced in those laserbeams.

invincible rebel.
come to me.
feed on your weaknesses.
feel free to be anything but 'me'.

i thought i wouldn't be able to remember. but i do. 
i remember everything.
screaming out for you.

inside. all on the inside.
and then the curtains open, 
and there you are.
standing centre stage,
spotless.

and then the mask 
falls off, and they all saw you.
my demon.

the other half.
the wrong half.

CHOKE

Friendships are great great things to make, especially hard to keep, and absolutely wonderful to have.

If they go well, that is.

It feels like there's an arrow in my chest and all the words I need to say are written on a note that's been pierced through with it. It's like a 'kick-me' sign, or something you'd see...a piece of robin-hood literature on a tree somewhere. I feel looted for loss of a better word.

Looted of my ability to express myself...and currently, trying to speak to a certain someone has been very very difficult. Trusting someone again with the intimacy of your thoughts and the raw nature of your emotion and true self is NOT easy. Obviously. Then, having this weakness...your awkwardness suddenly resembles someone they know, and the only way they can console you is that, they know 'you'll come around', so automatically a bridge is built and a map is drawn, and you will follow the markers set out for you...they wait, you start loosening up, you become really good friends and everyone's happy. 

But the things is, I don't know why its so hard to speak to you. Maybe its this gigantic fear of being vulnerable, or sounding so self-absorbed. Maybe its because I'm so intrigued by you and how good of a person you are. I could never tell you this in person, but I actually really really think you are absolutely amazing. Which is the primary reason why I choke...I don't want to ruin this. You don't know what you're getting into when you ask me 'Why?'. 

Sometimes I feel I should just take a deep breath and take the plunge, and it doesn't matter what you think of me and there's nothing more I want than to not be compared to her. I am so completely done with being compared to 'her'. I'm me. And all I want, is to be honest. With myself and with those that matter.

And you know what the scary thing is? You're starting to matter.

BITE your tongue

Contempt. curls on the
tip of my tongue
and bites, grinding
against the crowns of my teeth

contempt
burns in the back of my mind
and walks at the heels of my feet

contempt

layers life after love
with a brilliant cunning black streak

contempt
deals with the
world who has forgotten
their ignorance, the poor and the weak

contempt
is the reason
the air i inhale
feels like a foreign fire in my gizzard

contempt
brings out the claws in
my hands the savage in my blood
and the masses…

my heart beats faster---
it’s started

Carry it in your fist, throw it away

15 December 2011 11:40:01