Astonish
~~~~
I cannot see, I have gone blind. I've lost all thought, I've lost my mind. I've seen you go, I can't see more. I've heard you shout and slam the door. I want no more. I can't expect. And now I know what is neglect. I cannot quite understand. I trip away, give me your hand. You can't come back, have things to do. I have no one to tell this to. I won't lie now, I can't take care. I won't keep in, you've left me bare. I can't keep up. I have to die. I can't live on. I need to cry. You won't quite hear. The door is shut. And you aren't beyond it either, but...
Hope can't die. I don't want more. I should leave too. You've shut the door.
~~~~
Friday, November 13, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Little Curses
~~~~
When I'm alone at night, I often look back upon the kind times, when I used to sing Backstreet Boys happily and the both of us were unaware of each other's existence. I wonder if you're awake too, right now, trying to listen hard for a trace of my thoughts, begging to the winds for a whiff of my touch, but maybe you're no more like me. I try to think, sometimes, about how I'd definitely go and get you chained to my side when I'm "big" and have my own money, but happiness has begun to hurt, even in promises. I often think numbness and fire together do hurt... But you won't tell me if I'm wrong. When I'm crossing roads, in the day, I think of the convenience lying down to sleep right there would bring, but you were my bed-covers for so long. I try to reason, sometimes, about why I ever stopped singing, but I know that the answer is that it's no longer like that, when the only words that makes sense are the ones that talk about nothing in particular. I wish I had told you how pretty your ears were when it still mattered. I think I no longer want anything because there isn't your logic behind life anymore. Thom might say it's a gap but I know it's a chasm, and you don't begin even after that. I try to not think, sometimes, I remember iridescent fish scales but they're dead, I picture monarch butterflies but they're one with the autumn loss. My sentences grow longer and the hours do too, but thought will still fill them all. I try to tell myself the only reason I can't see ten years ahead is because you were always more imaginative and not because you no longer imagine for me. I can't think why it would keep happening, I only have to know it does. I'm thinking about you and I cannot stop, it pains and then the world doesn't matter anymore like you promised it wouldn't. I'm thinking about you, maybe I am crying, maybe I am alone, but I can't really feel, all I can do is think, because it's what you asked me to do "for once" before you left.
~~~~
When I'm alone at night, I often look back upon the kind times, when I used to sing Backstreet Boys happily and the both of us were unaware of each other's existence. I wonder if you're awake too, right now, trying to listen hard for a trace of my thoughts, begging to the winds for a whiff of my touch, but maybe you're no more like me. I try to think, sometimes, about how I'd definitely go and get you chained to my side when I'm "big" and have my own money, but happiness has begun to hurt, even in promises. I often think numbness and fire together do hurt... But you won't tell me if I'm wrong. When I'm crossing roads, in the day, I think of the convenience lying down to sleep right there would bring, but you were my bed-covers for so long. I try to reason, sometimes, about why I ever stopped singing, but I know that the answer is that it's no longer like that, when the only words that makes sense are the ones that talk about nothing in particular. I wish I had told you how pretty your ears were when it still mattered. I think I no longer want anything because there isn't your logic behind life anymore. Thom might say it's a gap but I know it's a chasm, and you don't begin even after that. I try to not think, sometimes, I remember iridescent fish scales but they're dead, I picture monarch butterflies but they're one with the autumn loss. My sentences grow longer and the hours do too, but thought will still fill them all. I try to tell myself the only reason I can't see ten years ahead is because you were always more imaginative and not because you no longer imagine for me. I can't think why it would keep happening, I only have to know it does. I'm thinking about you and I cannot stop, it pains and then the world doesn't matter anymore like you promised it wouldn't. I'm thinking about you, maybe I am crying, maybe I am alone, but I can't really feel, all I can do is think, because it's what you asked me to do "for once" before you left.
~~~~
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Everytime I Painted My Room
Theme competition on some community. Theme was Story around a song. I chose Chill by The Rasmus.
~~~~
"Whatever are you doing?"
He tried to snatch his messed notebook away, but he wasn't quick enough.
"... Dude. Dude!"
"Stop it, Parvati, give it back here!"
"But you're awesome!" She rose from her desk and turned fully, facing his seat behind her. "Arjan, you're good. You really are! Whatever possessed you to land your bottom in this godforsaken college studying computers when you could have blasted any damn art school? I've seen you sketch before, but this ...! Lord. You paint. You write. You draw with a stupid ball point pen! Dude, whatever are you doing?"
He was silent. She saw.
"Look. I know. You don't need an art school. But dude. Go out there. Four years are long. These next two years are going to be useless for you, and you know it. Look at me. I'm sorry. I am ever so guilty for making you give those tests. Please. It shows in your art!"
He shook his head and mutely held out his hand for his notebook. She handed it to him and sat down, still facing him, mirroring his expression.
I gotta let them know that I'm leaving everything behind me.
And politely, I don't wanna hurt their feelings.
"How are they, Arj? When did you last call them?"
Arjan spoke after a moment's pause, which was still not his, consumed as it was by the sigh handed down from father to son. "Weekend. Hating each others' guts, as always. I'm glad I don't have a sibling back home that I'd have to worry about leaving in that joke of a home."
Parvati dropped her head. "Still..."
"Yes. I'm a fool. Get it all out, whatever you wish to throw at me."
"You know I never would, Arj. Please?"
He stood up. "The stupid professor is not coming. I'm getting some fresh air."
She stood up too. His eyebrows pulled together. "Stay. I need loneliness. Please. I'll text you if something's the matter."
She looked at him and then nodded. The day was odd. She had never known so much about him in half an hour.
Arjan was an excellent sketch artist. She knew he could draw, but she'd never seen art expressed so purely with mere lines before... He could write too, and that was evident: the four lines scribbled beside the surreal blue swirls spoke more than she had ever known words to speak. She'd seen the potential, she'd seen that it was his only respite from everything.
I'll need to come back and I wanna explain why I had to leave them sleeping.
The answer's in the air but I really don't care, 'cause I couldn't really keep on breathing the smoke.
Arjan moved at a slow pace and made for the railings at the end of the corridor. That was the best place in the college; not many people came there, and there weren't any classrooms either. That was the place for silence, for his own space, that was the place he needed now. He could see the tree beyond the railing, and he saw nothing else.
Resting his arms on the cool metal, he raised his eyes to the blue sky. So extremely imperfect, the blue color was leeched away by the cottony clouds that fluffed around at random, toying with the son... Sun. Damn.
He looked down and took out his cell phone. He remembered last night's fight very accurately, and that wasn't something he was going to divulge to anyone. Not Parvati, if it came to that.
* * *
"What is your problem? Why can't you act normal like those other kids and --"
"Dad. Right. Shut up."
"Who the hell do you think you're talking to? You'd better learn some manners first, young man, or it's going to be hell for you."
"That's what you don't get, do you? I am in hell. You can try and bend things your way, and you can't make my hell worse. I don't want this. I didn't want sciences, and I don't want computers. I don't want to study this, dad, I --"
"You're being an idiot, boy. There's no way in hell your obsession with lines and paper would ever get two bites down your throat, you understand me? I've seen life, and I'm telling you there's no one waiting with open arms out there for you, there's competition, and there's a rat-race for simply stuffing one's pie-hole --"
"I've had enough, okay? I don't want anything, I'm not a rat you can project out in any damned race and demand accolades. I can't be what you think I should be, because I don't want to! This college is shit and you'd better know that now. I won't ever get a job through whatever I'm trying to drag myself through. You don't ever call me up again, Dad, it's more than one thing I'm going to rethink now."
"Boy, if you think of hanging up --"
Beep.
* * *
You roll like a stone, you should not stop, and I don't wanna step on your feet.
And you do what you do to stay on top. I don't wanna make you feel incomplete.
Oh, Dad, Arjan thought.
He sighed his father's sigh again. He looked up at the sky.
Who was he fooling? The sky wasn't half-eaten away, not leprous, not toyed around with. He couldn't be a cynic, he knew it.
Oh God, Dad, he thought. If you'd just see all the mistakes we all make. If you'd just forgive. If you'd once, just once think about all the things we do in life that we don't mean, and how they affect others in a way we would find unthinkable.
And everytime I painted my room, like a fool I hid my feelings.
And everytime I painted my room, I thought about leaving.
He looked at his cell phone again. Dejected, belated determination ran to the tips of his fingers and he thought of all the times when he was asked to paint his room, but also made to know in the same breath that he had no choice to paint it with his colours unless he was ready to fight. All the battles he had seen in his home, fought to ghastly ends by his adamantly-not-divorcing parents would come back to him and he would never have a desire to fight for what he felt was right. He could never create hell for anyone because he had trudged through so much of it.
Even though he always thought about leaving...
He started to sigh once again, but stopped mid-way. It was high time he stopped turning into his father. He should get his own sighs, his own sorrows, or none at all. He would not live like he was expected to, because he could not, and he knew it. He knew he was a wildflower, the most beautiful, the most original flower there was, and he knew he could be what he wished to be. He could be that easily, because he was born to be that. But his father... The college...
He remembered how Parvati helped him through his exams. He remembered the nights he had cried alone and she had called up, telling him she couldn't sleep and then asking what he was doing, without once mentioning the word "disturb". He remembered all that he had drawn on the last pages of his notebooks because he was afraid to buy quality drawing sheets in front of his father, in front of anyone. He remembered being avoided by people because they couldn't understand him well. He remembered putting up a face because sometimes the loneliness was too much to bear.
At the end of the day, I won't know what's here.
At the end of the day, I'll be flying away.
His fingers seemed to acquire a mind of their own, as did his legs. Sometimes all of it becomes too much when one least expects it, he thought. Sometimes the thickest iceberg has so many fractures within, that it takes a defecating seagull to break it. The day has ended. Maybe I should fly away. And he would. The belated feeling of determination in his fingers became more urgent as he flipped the toy in his hands open and tacked away at the little buttons.
Paro. Thanks. Going to Dean right now. Leaving college and all it means. Vishnu said a mag's looking for illustrator. Imma do it. But lady love, I'm marrying you, just do your college and I be an artis *some text missing*
~~~~
~~~~
"Whatever are you doing?"
He tried to snatch his messed notebook away, but he wasn't quick enough.
"... Dude. Dude!"
"Stop it, Parvati, give it back here!"
"But you're awesome!" She rose from her desk and turned fully, facing his seat behind her. "Arjan, you're good. You really are! Whatever possessed you to land your bottom in this godforsaken college studying computers when you could have blasted any damn art school? I've seen you sketch before, but this ...! Lord. You paint. You write. You draw with a stupid ball point pen! Dude, whatever are you doing?"
He was silent. She saw.
"Look. I know. You don't need an art school. But dude. Go out there. Four years are long. These next two years are going to be useless for you, and you know it. Look at me. I'm sorry. I am ever so guilty for making you give those tests. Please. It shows in your art!"
He shook his head and mutely held out his hand for his notebook. She handed it to him and sat down, still facing him, mirroring his expression.
I gotta let them know that I'm leaving everything behind me.
And politely, I don't wanna hurt their feelings.
"How are they, Arj? When did you last call them?"
Arjan spoke after a moment's pause, which was still not his, consumed as it was by the sigh handed down from father to son. "Weekend. Hating each others' guts, as always. I'm glad I don't have a sibling back home that I'd have to worry about leaving in that joke of a home."
Parvati dropped her head. "Still..."
"Yes. I'm a fool. Get it all out, whatever you wish to throw at me."
"You know I never would, Arj. Please?"
He stood up. "The stupid professor is not coming. I'm getting some fresh air."
She stood up too. His eyebrows pulled together. "Stay. I need loneliness. Please. I'll text you if something's the matter."
She looked at him and then nodded. The day was odd. She had never known so much about him in half an hour.
Arjan was an excellent sketch artist. She knew he could draw, but she'd never seen art expressed so purely with mere lines before... He could write too, and that was evident: the four lines scribbled beside the surreal blue swirls spoke more than she had ever known words to speak. She'd seen the potential, she'd seen that it was his only respite from everything.
I'll need to come back and I wanna explain why I had to leave them sleeping.
The answer's in the air but I really don't care, 'cause I couldn't really keep on breathing the smoke.
Arjan moved at a slow pace and made for the railings at the end of the corridor. That was the best place in the college; not many people came there, and there weren't any classrooms either. That was the place for silence, for his own space, that was the place he needed now. He could see the tree beyond the railing, and he saw nothing else.
Resting his arms on the cool metal, he raised his eyes to the blue sky. So extremely imperfect, the blue color was leeched away by the cottony clouds that fluffed around at random, toying with the son... Sun. Damn.
He looked down and took out his cell phone. He remembered last night's fight very accurately, and that wasn't something he was going to divulge to anyone. Not Parvati, if it came to that.
* * *
"What is your problem? Why can't you act normal like those other kids and --"
"Dad. Right. Shut up."
"Who the hell do you think you're talking to? You'd better learn some manners first, young man, or it's going to be hell for you."
"That's what you don't get, do you? I am in hell. You can try and bend things your way, and you can't make my hell worse. I don't want this. I didn't want sciences, and I don't want computers. I don't want to study this, dad, I --"
"You're being an idiot, boy. There's no way in hell your obsession with lines and paper would ever get two bites down your throat, you understand me? I've seen life, and I'm telling you there's no one waiting with open arms out there for you, there's competition, and there's a rat-race for simply stuffing one's pie-hole --"
"I've had enough, okay? I don't want anything, I'm not a rat you can project out in any damned race and demand accolades. I can't be what you think I should be, because I don't want to! This college is shit and you'd better know that now. I won't ever get a job through whatever I'm trying to drag myself through. You don't ever call me up again, Dad, it's more than one thing I'm going to rethink now."
"Boy, if you think of hanging up --"
Beep.
* * *
You roll like a stone, you should not stop, and I don't wanna step on your feet.
And you do what you do to stay on top. I don't wanna make you feel incomplete.
Oh, Dad, Arjan thought.
He sighed his father's sigh again. He looked up at the sky.
Who was he fooling? The sky wasn't half-eaten away, not leprous, not toyed around with. He couldn't be a cynic, he knew it.
Oh God, Dad, he thought. If you'd just see all the mistakes we all make. If you'd just forgive. If you'd once, just once think about all the things we do in life that we don't mean, and how they affect others in a way we would find unthinkable.
And everytime I painted my room, like a fool I hid my feelings.
And everytime I painted my room, I thought about leaving.
He looked at his cell phone again. Dejected, belated determination ran to the tips of his fingers and he thought of all the times when he was asked to paint his room, but also made to know in the same breath that he had no choice to paint it with his colours unless he was ready to fight. All the battles he had seen in his home, fought to ghastly ends by his adamantly-not-divorcing parents would come back to him and he would never have a desire to fight for what he felt was right. He could never create hell for anyone because he had trudged through so much of it.
Even though he always thought about leaving...
He started to sigh once again, but stopped mid-way. It was high time he stopped turning into his father. He should get his own sighs, his own sorrows, or none at all. He would not live like he was expected to, because he could not, and he knew it. He knew he was a wildflower, the most beautiful, the most original flower there was, and he knew he could be what he wished to be. He could be that easily, because he was born to be that. But his father... The college...
He remembered how Parvati helped him through his exams. He remembered the nights he had cried alone and she had called up, telling him she couldn't sleep and then asking what he was doing, without once mentioning the word "disturb". He remembered all that he had drawn on the last pages of his notebooks because he was afraid to buy quality drawing sheets in front of his father, in front of anyone. He remembered being avoided by people because they couldn't understand him well. He remembered putting up a face because sometimes the loneliness was too much to bear.
At the end of the day, I won't know what's here.
At the end of the day, I'll be flying away.
His fingers seemed to acquire a mind of their own, as did his legs. Sometimes all of it becomes too much when one least expects it, he thought. Sometimes the thickest iceberg has so many fractures within, that it takes a defecating seagull to break it. The day has ended. Maybe I should fly away. And he would. The belated feeling of determination in his fingers became more urgent as he flipped the toy in his hands open and tacked away at the little buttons.
Paro. Thanks. Going to Dean right now. Leaving college and all it means. Vishnu said a mag's looking for illustrator. Imma do it. But lady love, I'm marrying you, just do your college and I be an artis *some text missing*
~~~~
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Holy Flying Lemur-- I lost track >.>
~~~~
~~~~
YES!!
~~~~
Your Left Part Says You're Creative and Funky |
 You are naturally artsy and a little kooky. You do and see thing in a very unique way. Forget marching to the same beat as everyone else... you don't even hear the same beat as everyone else. You have always been a very independent person. Years ago you stopped even trying to fit it. Your very comfortable in your own skin. If people can't handle your eccentricities, that's their problem... not yours! |
~~~~
YES!!
Your Name is Green |
 Your name tells people that you are harmonious and balanced. You've got it together, and it shows. You are hopeful and optimistic. You know it's not over until it's over, and you keep fighting until the end. People see you as peaceful to the point of being zen. You won't allow anything to get under your skin. You struggle with envy at times, but you never let it show. You believe that jealousy is a weakness, and you try not to let yourself indulge in it. |
~~~~
Monday, September 21, 2009
Rejected
~~~~
I am a creep. I am a jester but the moon won't have me.
I am a lion, but a lion
has a tiny cage in circuses. Human, imperfect ringmasters-
I am wordless. Useless. Senseless.
I am the last Holly on the earth, sterile by myself;
I am the peacock dancing in a mid-forest clearing. No one watches-
I am left alone, by beauty and glee
and calamity alike. I am a fish
because there are no mirrors in the sea and I am
afraid to complete sentences and look at truth-
I am there and unseen. I am the peel thrown off
for the banana. I am futilely breaking boulders
with bare hands. I am rejected.
~~~~
I am a creep. I am a jester but the moon won't have me.
I am a lion, but a lion
has a tiny cage in circuses. Human, imperfect ringmasters-
I am wordless. Useless. Senseless.
I am the last Holly on the earth, sterile by myself;
I am the peacock dancing in a mid-forest clearing. No one watches-
I am left alone, by beauty and glee
and calamity alike. I am a fish
because there are no mirrors in the sea and I am
afraid to complete sentences and look at truth-
I am there and unseen. I am the peel thrown off
for the banana. I am futilely breaking boulders
with bare hands. I am rejected.
~~~~
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Horrible
~~~~
This just in. Two minutes back.
A pigeon laid an egg in our balcony, right in front of the door.
It was crushed accidentally when my ma went out there.
Whose fault?
Why?
~~~~
This just in. Two minutes back.
A pigeon laid an egg in our balcony, right in front of the door.
It was crushed accidentally when my ma went out there.
Whose fault?
Why?
~~~~
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
