Music

Dear You,

I'm still going through my poems, but here's a good one. An optimistic one for you. :D
Here goes:

A simple gaze, a longing look over your shoulders
In the eyes of these two strangers held the ability to move boulders
Out of old boredom and instinct, these two lives intertwined
Linking themselves together with words of bread and wine
In just a few clicks, the enchantment began.
Though love was already banned
But, both had a brain and heart
To step up and take a part
Minutes turned to days, both spoke so freely
Talking about anything to utter silliness
While in their abyss, they became something
Both learned to fly, in the grips of nothing
Lost, forgotten, and uncared for was what they were
Till they met each other in the heat of a blur
Their heart so pure, captivated by the intent to save
They took a hold of each other and learned to behave
Names maybe unfamiliar to their tongues
But both need each other's words to fill up their lungs
Darkness may have taken control of their lives
That they would have resorted to taking a hold of knives
And have sown themselves in the seams of darkness' glove
For what is known in this world as love
Neither felt until the sight of a dove
All both needed is someone to start over with
Though distance is the one thing that separates them
They have learned to abide by the rules of realism
Who can say what both are truly in search for
When they might have just needed another open door
With compassion and wit,
The answer to their worries, this may be it!

One Night Stands.

So I was looking through my old note books, and found a ton of old poems, I'll eventually post most of them on here.. But for now here is one...

Here, you are
Half-naked or fully clothed
Submerged in a nostalgic mode
-- Basking in the feeling of being wanted,
Enjoying all that's shared.

Again, here, you are
Behind closed doors
Lying in bed -- someone's or yours
In the comforting arms of no one
Yet someone?

Now, here, we are
Alone and trying to kid yourself
That intoxication justified your actions,
And that all can be easily omitted,
Especially whatever you felt.

And, for awhile,
That reasoning solidified,
Requiring no retraction
Until you realize that no one insisted
To care for whatever that lied within
-- How much you bleed for the world, yet persisted

And to realise so,
You can finally say, "Fin."

Writer to Reader.

I recall those instances,
When I would go off in my little corner,
Scribbling profusely to understand my circumstances
Rather than becoming the next visitor of the corner.

At times, my aimless verbiages
Were simply written recollections.
Yet, what seemed like garbage
Turned to an enlightening composition.

Truly, a sense of satisfaction exists in creativity,
Despite how difficult it is to be original.
Each stanza portrayed my personality
- Honest yet implicit
empowering yet condescending,
light-hearted yet cynical.

And, though, I would usually challenge my readers
To pose their judgments and to chip away at my innuendos
Now, I ask you to take on the craft, to be a writer
And to eternally preserve your woes.

Playing Catching Up.

Pull away from the norm

And jump into the cellar hold

Watch your world form

From the dreary bleak
to a colourful streak

Though the void may rip and tear
That you’re reminded of the loneliness

Know it’s okay to feel the world’s stare

You have a certain loveliness

Incomparable is who you are

A radiant, twinkling star

So, soak up this moment

If you need the space

It’s alright to pace

To find your supplement

It’s your time to sit back and relax

Maybe, it’s what you needed all along

To keep yourself intact

Winter is coming soon enough

Just hang in there, no matter how rough

The tide will thrust into the reef

It’s your life to keep

Babbling.

Pedestals aren't meant for anyone
For once complete faith is placed on another,
It can be easily lost as it was to gain.
Disappointment spreads rapidly
As the progression of the night to day.
From now on,
It'll be best not to be so inclined to someone,
To give so freely, a heart.
Weakness shouldn't be felt nor should it be shown.
This mask will be placed back on,
As if to dare the world to scare me to death,
While I patiently hope for someone to save me once again.
Like they say the world is better with your smile
than your constant whine
There's bound to be a happy ending somewhere,
if not a slow disintegration.
Truly, I can't accept your words whether sincere or not
Don't take it to offense,
They just weren't meant to be heard with these ears of mine.
Thankful that I am for every encounter
With those who tore down barricades
And those who constructed them
Seeking thy refugee is over;
However, my mind is my own compartment
As my body is that of which is the prison itself
Gesticulations and speeches can bring so much harm
Despite its own comfort and warmth, besides our whelps.

Menagerie.

As I get off my car and wave my mother goodbye, I realise where I am-- the place of my mediocre experiences; where I had spawned in circles, where I screamed at the top of my lungs despite the hoards emerging and where I fought through with such vitality and naivety in their wake. And, as I am about to take my first step back into this circus, I turn around and make a dash for it. I run into the parking lot to find a living souvenir of this horrid place.

He stands about six feet tall with his vibrant red hair not as haywire as before, but neatly trimmed. In such scenes in a movie, it would be expected for me to slowly gait my way to him, caress his face and accept him into my arms; instead, my feet drag me swiftly to his passenger seat without a wave of hi or hello. In turn, he gets into the drivers seat, turns on the ignition, and within a few seconds, we are on the road again, just the two of us, like that one night a few years ago.

And, while he drives us to what I would call uncharted territory, I make no sound throughout the trip, not even a whimper or a sign of curiosity. Though he would normally yell at me for my silence, he does not utter a word to instigate a conversation, merely drives past buildings until we reach scattered houses and a mesh of green.

Finally, we find ourselves at this spot. He parks the car and gets out. And, I follow. Still, with no eye contact. No interlocking hands. Nothing but silence.

We made our way to the depths of uncertainty. Wherever he had left his mark on the ground, I covered it with mine. What most would perceive as mere seconds, we found endless with this grueling anticipation in our hearts. Suddenly, everything accelerated, and then stopped. With a whisper from the past, in this hammock, where the clock ticked away in its own realm, we laid and said our regrets of the menagerie we had left behind.