Monthly Archives: November 2016

My body is no temple

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I have read a lot of books
That tell me
How my body is a temple
I should consider it sacred
Worship and respect it
Because, if not me
Then who?
I’ve read a lot of poetry
On intentions and aspirations
How positive energy heals my temple in rubble
I wish that I could tell them
I do not consider
This body of mine
A temple
My body is no shrine
No place for the holy
It is a forest
In between is a swamp
You will find only twisted pathways
Wetlands that will drown you
A bottomless pit
For an excuse of a heart
A shallow hole that only wants
It functions on parasitic needs
The canopies have poisonous snakes
Spiders hide in the ground
If you think this is
Young, wild and free
I am sorry
To deceive you with my words
It is a forest
That does not give birth to life
It is overshadowed by rage and cruelty
Left by inhabitants that once tried
To make a home of it
It is not free
The vines will trap you
Hang you in mid-air by your throat
If you dare venture in too deep
There is nothing saintly cherished in the atmosphere
So, if you think that this body is a temple
Go look somewhere else
Because, this is a forest
Thick and Cruel
It will devour your heart
Make you a fool

No going back

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As I grow old, a part inside has become deeply aware of time. It is not something that I am surrendering to consciously but rather, it is very unconscious. I’m becoming more conscious of how I spend my time and the people I spend my time with. Counting my days is easy, heck I’m just 21 years old. My accomplishments as a person have started to define me. I am the product of all that I have conquered. This includes my fear of the dark .
Victory small or big is still victory.
Growing up is not fun but it’s the only choice I have. I cannot go back in time so just as well go forward.
“Age is just a number”, this is a tiny piece of wisdom that usually pops up when discussing the relativity of time.
But how do I sweep my realizations and regrets under the rug that came with time and of age.
Time, however, can be on your side. I’ve learnt this. I have also learnt that a single moment can cause inevitable changes forever.
You know how when you’re drifting off to sleep and this sudden sensation of falling down hits you? So you jolt out of your dream into reality.
That sudden plunge feels like eternity but in reality is just a micro-second.
Sometimes I feel that becoming aware of time is a sudden plunge. Because, I’ve always been more carefree than I would like to admit.
My friends are growing up and people are changing. I have no definite plan for the future. It used to be scary but now, it is not.
 
I know that I’m falling right now but eventually I will wake up.

Psychedelic Sundays

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I have been searching for home
In between heartbeats
Among familiar eyes
Across unfamiliar lips
Walking and running
Sometimes towards it
And other times
Away

Never truly understanding the concept
Of having a home
Be it literal
Or metaphorical
Not knowing home
Always felt right
When you realize that there is
Nothing to fall back upon

I met a nomad, once
Who didn’t speak of wisdom
He kept talking about life
In a haze of smoke and wine
This is all I’ve ever known
He said
And I don’t regret it one bit
Because not every soul is meant
To find a home
Some just like to wander
Among bodies
And situations

Not everyone is meant to love
A glacial heart
And a fiery soul
But this is all I’ve ever known
And this is all you will ever know

So if you’ve never known home
And made hotels out of people
For temporary stay
It’s okay
Or maybe it’s not
And I’m just another fucker
Taking it out on the general lot

Bipolar Depression

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God is dead
Said Nietzsche
He is if you ask me
Because why else would we be
Made to suffer
In a perpetual whirlwind of misery

He gave up on mankind
Can’t you see?
Blood filled streets
Would never lie
You slit a vein
Call it a day

You’re there on the floor
Mother Mary screams
Outside the door
Drop the blade
Don’t give yourself pain

But you close her out
The devil is making his round
You laugh and laugh
This seems like crying
God is dead
Said Nietzsche
And you’re the one
Digging his grave

Born a woman

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We’re born like this
Pretty faces
Wide smiles
We’re born like this
Don’t you see?
Our bodies an open invitation
For you to tug at
Stare
Or maybe
Ruin

We’re born like this
Twinkling eyes
Delicate structures
We’re born like this
Don’t you see?
For you to rip apart
Throw away
Or maybe
Set on fire

We’re born like this
An abomination
A bliss
We’re born like this
Don’t you see?
For you to condemn
Glorify
Or maybe
Be indifferent to

We’re born like this
Your pride
Their shame
We’re born like this
Don’t you see?
Our bodies scream
For you to violate
Or maybe
Bury deep within

We’re born like this
We have long forgotten
How to belong to ourselves
So we belong to you
And never to us
To society and religion
Never to ourselves
Never to us
Only to you

Preferences

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I’ve always preferred the fake.
Fake people
Fake intentions
And a fake reality
While the world boasts about being “real”, I say, “Give me the fake ones, Charles”. You see when you’re given the fake it’s easier to access the real. The sugarcoated fakeness helps pinning down exactly what is real within. When you’re real it’s too boring. Don’t equate being real with bravery. Everyone is scared. Bravery isn’t exposing your scars to the world. Everyone is scared so they hide. Bravery is how expertly you hide something with sugarcoated words and feelings. I like fake people, they’re more honest in their struggle. They know what they don’t have so they make it up. Now, you’re going to say that this is all fake but fake is what I like.

I’m going to survive

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Last night
Around 3 a.m
I decided
There was no need for your ghost
To haunt my heart
Anymore
I didn’t need your memories
To plague my bones
I didn’t need the regrets
Anger
Or the resentment
I will not reach out to you
Anymore
Because the book we wrote
Is finished
And there is not point
In scribbling on the edges
With
What it was
What it is
And
What could have been
I buried them
Everything
And mourned
I let you go
Let us go
Because you see
The worst part of a broken heart
Is that we conjure up memories
And decorate them to our liking
Deceiving the reality
Of the moment
The event
And time
Itself
But I have survived this before
People like you
Who come in like hurricane
And go away like summer rain
But darling,
Lightning can’t hurt you
If you’re thunder, yourself
I have survived
And I will survive
So go on
Kiss your God
And I’ll sleep with my demons
From dusk till dawn

A poem for the outcasts

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Dear You
Who has learned to stand still
With your back straight and your feet
Clenched to the ground
While the world keeps turning
From underneath
Do not let this break you
Hold on to your ground

Dear you
Who has always kept her head
Above the tides
Drowning means failure
Your thoughts become too loud
Up in your mind
Do not let this break you
Hold on to your shore

Dear you
The one that fell in love with breathing
As soon as you inhale
It quickly leaves
Promising to come again
As you exhale
Do not let this daunt you
Hold on to your love

Dear you
Who practices smiling every morning
In front of the mirror
Putting aside the turmoil within
A perfect pinned smile
In hopes that it would become real one day
Do not let this discourage you
Hold on to your hope

Dear you
The one who looks at the weather
Perfect blue sky
And a bright sun
Your inside is hurricane
Promising rain
Do not let this sadden you
Hold on to your umbrella

Dear you
Who learns all about sanity
And practices sane behavior
It’s okay to let yourself slip
In the oil slicked room
Of your insane mind
Do not clutch to their normal
Hold on to your weird

Dear you
The junkie
The dipsomaniac
The hypochondriac
The bipolar
The manic depressed
The psychotic
The schizophrenic
The pyromaniac
The narcissist
The compulsive liar
The megalomaniac

This poem is for you