Foolish
You think I’m foolish,
I do not comprehend…
The things that transpire behind my back.
Let me tell you this,
I know,
I understand.
But it’s good to be foolish,
Than to be wise.
For this world sees not with kindness
On those who fight,
Sadistic ways.
Test of our patience.
Let me be stupid,
Alone.
And away from all the games you play.
You, who claim to be mine.
I seek not your approval.
I seek not your love.
I seek the stupidity of an infamous fool.
Evanesce
Slowly fading, like the setting sun.
Do you belong to some,
Or to none?
Music drifts further away,
It’s the way of this world.
Never to stay,
Are you watching me smile,
insincere though,
turn away, let me cry a while.
Hold me in your arms,
Then disappear
When I’m calm.
I won’t cry, I promise you,
Please let me be
The one you go to
I’ll listen as you speak,
Will forever
your secrets keep
Just one small promise I seek
You’ll say goodbye
Every time you leave.
Now what?
Now what?
Should I just let the door CLOSE, and shut out the voices?
Or should I fight, knowing it’s a lost battle?
Now what?
Should I pick up the pieces?
Or should I DANCE on them and watch the colours unfurl!
Now what?
Are you going to just WATCH as I bare myself, moment by moment, piece by piece, one by one, to one and all?
Aren’t you going to stop me? Slap me? Shake me from my trance?
Do you delight in my reverie?
Now what, sweetheart?
Now what?
Is there no beginning after this end?
There should be, the stories say so,
Legend says so
History isn’t going to REPEAT itself?
But mama made me believe…
And I believed. Sadly, I still do.
This is going to CHANGE, right darling?
You’ll wake up any moment now,
Abandon your grave and hug me tight?
I can’t hear you.
You’re scaring me!
Don’t joke with me anymore!
Just SPEAK to me once baby,
Tell me love…
Now What?
I Miss You
Sometimes I miss you
But I guess I shouldn’t
I’ve only to close my eyes and I’ll feel your embrace
I’ve only to hum our song and I’ll hear your sweet voice
I’ve only to remember and I’d find your lips meeting mine
I’ve only to lose myself and my soul shall drift to you
I guess I don’t need to miss you
Because…
It is you in I and I in you
Forever
Or is it?
You’re beautiful
You’re so beautiful.
And you deserve so much better.
And even though I miss you,
I’m happy for you and this new life you’ve chosen.
But I’m selfish and sad.
And you being beautiful just makes it all the more insufferable.
Why do you have to be so beautiful?
Living Or Dying
Every moment counts,
Every word,
Every touch,
Every promise,
Every breath counts.
Enjoy it while it lasts.
Life and its uncertainties…
You can never tell
This mystery is some vulgar, beautiful, wretchedness,
We have got to endure.
Loving empties us within.
We forget that we’re losing strength
We forget that it’s robbing us of our sanity
But we give in any way,
Just for those few stolen moments of bliss.
Temptation. Yes, we’re tempted to enjoy the temporary glory.
Forgetting the eternal damnation we are calling upon ourselves.
Life. Love. Misery.
I know not of any other way of living,
Or dying.
A Love Story
What’s lost?
She didn’t mourn during the last rites. Numb with bereavement, she stood motionless.
They lowered his body into the earth and therewith buried her spirit.
She had not wept at all in days. They shook her, wailed, brought forth memories of him, but to no avail.
She had lost the will to feel…
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The Crowd
And when I let it in, it crushed every ounce of me within seconds.
I was a goner the minute I let my guard down.
It was as if the consequence I so feared were unraveling in front me at the speed of light.
And the blow… Oh, it was just too fatal.
I took a deep breath, again, in search for some solace. Ha, all in vain.
Standing there, in the middle of the square, no one could tell the tornado inside.
People indulged in the hustle and bustle of their own lives.
Babies crying.
Old couples holding hands walking in the silence of their love.
Young couples fighting over a trivial deal.
Children rushing to school.
Mothers scolding kids.
Father rushing to earn the bread and butter…
Standing there in the middle of the square, no one, absolutely no one, could tell there was a tornado whirling within.
The calm facade camouflaging the crumbling structure.
So beautiful.
So lovely.
So picturesque.
Yes, life is poetry.
And I just hugged the soil beneath my feet.
Divine Ipseity
We’re afraid to face ourselves.
We’re afraid of what it might do to us,
Even worse, what we might never be able to do, ever again.
Once the truth is spilled from our lips,
Ones ugliness is made known.
We feed ourselves with pride and then with guilt.
We revolt harmony,
We treat it like we would an enemy.
But why should it matter?
We do what we think we should.
We do what we must.
And in doing so there should be no remorse,
Only contentment, that we did what we truly wanted.
There’s great joy in being who you truly are.
No matter how crude, lonely, gruesome, painful it gets.
It’s a beautiful melody when we reveal the true ugliness of our soul.
It brings a very evident change in us, celebrates our liberty and all that we are, is made known to all and sundry.
Grace After The Beauty Is Gone.
Summer Rain
They sat upon the shore.
Looking straight into nothingness.
They were happy.
Away from the chaos.
From the maddening crowd.
They really were happy.
She looked at her friend and said, “You know this land is beautiful when it rains.”
“Well,” her friend replied, “This place is beautiful always, everyday.”
“Did you see that?” she asked. “No, what?”
“That!” And just like that, it began lightening.
And then on that summer midnight hour, it poured.
They danced together.
Two insane friends.
Danced on the beach.
Mimicking the waves.
***
So the waves,
They danced upon the shore.
The rain,
Drenched us in laughter.
Breaking our hearts,
A million times over.
Sanctuary
I forgot where the safe place is.
It was burnt and caved in by them, there is none but just open moors and taverns.
Lost homes, missing havens. How do we find them again? You reckon, we never can.
Don’t we scratch the walls and extinguish beacons.
Build walls we can barely climb. Build the impenetrable cage of memories of a different life. Lost life. Rotten beautiful life
Skinned knees, broken bottles. Oh! How we climb and slipper and wither, these thought the choke how feeble are we to dangle.
The more we sink, the more taller it gets. The more we try to forget the more we feed the growing chaos. There’s no escape.
Just somebody put us down, the clawing on the earth of fable, for a faithless climb. Broken, distraught and hollow.
Let’s fill the pit of sorrow, with tears of the past. Let’s burn our present and our future let’s swallow.
Such shame and deceit, No honour in your crimes? We weep while you bask in your rhyming lies. We reap and we reap…
And we reap some more.
~ By Varun Chakravarty & Mitchelle Rozario Jansen
My 24th contribution to NaPoWriMo
Checkout Varun’s other works on http://stateofmaroon.wordpress.com/
Blood
I let blood spill all over my white gown,
My Hands,
My Temple,
My Feet,
My Paper,
My Morsel,
My Drink,
My Soul,
My Spirit,
My Life,
My Dreams.
I let his blood spill all over me.
My 17th Contribution to NaPoWriMo.
Knot
The inexplicable.
Beyond rhyme or reason.
Beyond wrong or right.
Just the insane birthed out of irrational want.
Just one tied to another with strings of love and hate.
My 13th Contribution to NaPoWriMo.
Myshelle Congeries 
They came, they saw, they said.