'my-self-orb-'session

she was unwritten
sprinkled all over
un-collected
a melting candle
a dropped tear
an unseen kite
there she lay
in the half-light.

sly earth absorbs
and rain dissolves
it began to rot
gradually
her odour was noticed
now every sight she caught
her scars were brought
deliberately
to the 'lime-light'
posing rawness
and ignorance
tragically..
there was no end
to what darkness did to her
light gave her 'start'
they made her,
forget the dark..
she did it all
yet 'wastrel'
she was called
she was designed
to lay in the half-light
eternally.

stillness of the world

I was totally calm that day despite of all blah-blah. Sitting on my t-point, i was looking at lots of loaded and empty vehicles running, beyond this highway was a field spread and then, my favorite part, 'horizon' where glimpse of purple with the setting sun portrayed a beautiful painting. I could hear my heart beat. The sound of waffling of leaves was a respite among all day torments. This was the day where stillness was in my inner-self, and the other day scenario changed.

I, couldn't bear the chaos and defeat, i went to my t-point as i was super-disturbed. Everything and anything didn't matter. Heart beats were not less than growls of a drum, that purple of sky was no more a painting...leaves waffled for no reason. I tried to look inside out, or googled the 'reason'. Everything was perfectly ab-normal inside me...then why? Then why, this chaos and no running vehicle seemed running actually...why the world grew still? Each part of me wanted to kill the other one, as if they were on some strike..heart beat became feeble, terribly sinking. I had to do something to stop, it goddamn 'running'. I knelt down and prayed then, i didn't know to whom i was addressing. I've heard those voices which are wiser .

*ende*

constricted version of me

And there's a pattern I've observed of a conflicted and constricted approach in my head. Being quiet (helpful in managing thoughts), being quiet(keeps you enclosed), being quiet(lets your demons reside in), being quiet(is anyway better than being fussy), being quiet(makes you mysterious), being quiet(isn't really being quiet but copying some-one who is better known for weight of the words). Latter keeps mind constricted, i never overcame these demons and fail every time i try to think my own peppy ways. Becoming habitual to ignoring that 'feeble' voice is easy and adaptive, but is dangerous too...it engulfs your identity. Following is shit. THAT FEEBLE VOICE is real you, is real me. May be i need a lot of time to understand its realm.

*ende*

a girl

she runs
and talks to the wind
her smile or laugh
echo all around
her little white dress
play up and down
she runs amidst fields
making euphoric sounds
her tender blunt hair
sway in the breeze
she thumps her small feet
joyfully against the ground
her wink and a gentle look
show purity of her woman
As her thoughts begin to grow
she runs a little slow
she wonders with eyes wide open
purity still irresistible
why she'd been given a seed to sow
and she sows it anyways
she is careful every time
compassionate and affectionate
she began to forget speed
for she looked after that seed
she's walking now
and walking upstream
she should like it
Her longer shiny locks
sparkling tiny eyes
make spectators think
they admire beauty
and pass-by
she is glad
as she can not cry
she holds this seed
which grew taller but a plant
she stands protective
patient with storms and sands
The woman became woman
girl remains girl.

:swati goyal (ende)

black smoke of you

you are a mist
you've become a disease
your blackness crawls in my veins
you are like a filthy creep

You watch me in pain
But you,
i wouldn't blame
moist eyes and anger mingled
I'd known the scar you'd linger

it beckons me, shall I give in?
Upon my end shall it begin
Forsaking all I've fallen for
I rise to meet the end...
free me..lest i blend...

i want death, for it is the only hope

i want sorrow, for it is the only mate

i want hate, for you are all over me.

:me

 

when eyes perceive...

Two months of Pyrrhic, its hard to make a decision. Don't know anything, it aches in my head like fear of nothingness of my being. I'm imprisoned, barred of living like me. I'm stabbed and expected to feel nothing, was expected to be 'happy ever after', tragically I'll be 'happy never after'. Or I'm just living a lie, am i lying to myself but everyone? Amidst a group, my eyes stop seeing, its all blurred...24*7 anger and irritation, of not finding a way out. I feel inferior to my own self, way I've degraded my presence in this world..no one else could do that, after few years I'll be lost forever in the web of family who wouldn't consider me theirs' and to my parents I'd be 'over' . I've agreed to all that was expected of me, because it would be a good thing to obey. And soon this passion for 'writing' would evanescent like it never existed...and I'm gonna consider it a foolish-dream of my hand to write another story of a woman. My eyes could perceive what my mind is trying to ignore, how can i lie to my heart....i was fucking busy, listening to it all these years. But, mind's gonna over-rule the dream part of me, it would vaporize and they'd say 'we're proud of you'. 

*ende* (totally)