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Dec 6, 2011
These eyes are seeing white.
Where once a smile would evoke
The visions of red colours, dancing brilliantly,
They now appear flat. Dull.
Dead.
The world that was once artistically painted
With an impressionist’s scattering of
Cerulean blues and blinding, buttery yellows
and grassy greens and vivid, rose-like pinks
their edges blurred and merging, a beautiful sight---
Everything is now grey.
As if I am colour blind.
This beating entity inside my chest
Feels detached and pointless---
Just a composition of cells and vessels
A rhythmic reminder.
Someone must have sneaked to my bed at night
Artfully slit my chest open,
Delicately extracted this heart
And boiled it in scalding water.
Nerves no more tingling with sensation,
Skin no more sensing the feathery touch of friendship,
Eyes no more seeing the colours of life.
I feel sterile,
So clean. An enchantment on my own.
Everything is numb, it’s morphine, it’s white---
There are only greys. There is no emotion.
A zombie walks through these shadowed streets at night,
Wearing my clothes,
My hair upon its head,
My voice (lifeless) emanating from its larynx,
My shoes on its feet,
My possessions in its cupboard.
Such pristine serenity
In a whirlpool of numb nothingness;
I am just a body;
A withered corpse sucked dry of blood,
An earthen pot smashed on the floor,
A soulless creature,
A sponge squeezed dry of water,
A lifeless, limp flag of independence.
Life is where love is, where freedom is,
Where trust is.
Where home is.
But I have no home.
Nov 6, 2011
Insurmountable Hate
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 12:10 PM
Part I
Here it stands - a pristine, blank mirror
Reflecting back tortured eyes and a blackened soul,
As if you with your deranged hair and sadistic tendencies
Sacrificed a night of sleep
To hold up a piece of paper with my name on it
And watch it blacken with disintegration
And curl with degeneration
In a fire with fierce flames that spit reverently
Admiring the food you are dangling in its arms.
Part II
Could it be a knife your words brandish?
Because the sharp nicks that painstakingly cut my willpower
Have left nothing but shredded ribbons of flesh behind
I am bleeding – there is nothing in me but blood –
Don’t you see what you have done?
These shocking, piercing, excruciating needles
You have dislodged in my resolve?
Part III
My blood has thickened into petrol
Bubbling gelatinously in its confined presence in my heart,
Giving way to fissures of gas that escape like refugees
From a country tormented by dictatorial damnation.
The heat with which it froths and churns;
As if it is waiting to catch fire, biding it’s time
Until the day it explodes into a crazed entity
Of fire, anger, hatred, torment and abhorrence
That consumes me till the point my skin rips at the seams.
And then you would be happy.
Then you would be satisfied.
Then you would die a pleased woman.
Part IV
It was like sobbing relentlessly on the shoulder of the
two-faced devil,
Telling him the deepest, most precious sentiments of your
heart
And finding comfort in his counterfeit promises.
But you, with your blood red horns and your fiery trident,
A grin dripping brutally with contentment and amusement
Gripped my trust by the hair, tugging at its sensitive
roots,
Threw it at hungry cannibals, to watch them satiate their
appetite.
Yes, you laughed as they sank their jagged teeth into it,
You laughed as they ripped the skin off its poor flesh.
Part V
Poor, pristine mirror. Pity that your innocent face
Should have been the victim of my insurmountable anger,
Because in you I have seen my face,
In you I have seen the depths of that black soul,
In the depths of that black soul, a woman burning paper,
In the depths of those flames, the consuming hatred,
In the depths of the hatred, a breach of trust.
And in the depths of all that,
The shocking pinks and blues of pain so irreparable
Nothing can heal it ever again.
Sep 5, 2011
It's autumn all over again,
And as the orange leaves fall
As the wind tousles my hair
As it whips the buildings tall----
I find the change in who we are
The dying friendships I tried so hard
To keep alive with this
Constant burning of lard
To keep this fire burning,
To dissipate the air of mourning;
But it shrivels before my eyes,
The love that kept us both alive
And as it fades
Into a dark distance, into a hive;
These mistakes we made keep repeating again,
The times we changed keep playing over again
And the heartbreak hits the same way every time.
Though you tell yourself you'll be strong,
And it's painfully loud that something is wrong,
I guess people never change. Not even with time.
Mistakes,
They repeat over again.
Never cease until the end.
And the end's just so far away.
Feb 7, 2011
With fascinating you watch as
The slime slips from a child's finger
The joy it brings him on his quest
To hold a toy that would never linger;
His meek attempts to hold on to it
Remind you of your heart's efforts
To forget the love of a friend you cherish
Who walked away with a silence to ascert.
Oh, you recognize that hollow pain
That fills up the cavity in your chest,
And you seem to know the darkness that
Has set up in your head a comfortable nest-
Aware of all that leaves you
With every passing second of the day
Failing attempts at smiling and positivity
Be it as it may.
It's like a chasm of water
And you're sucked under the surface
The water overwhelms your lungs
And you feel yourself slowing that pace,
That easy breathing smothers,
And that happiness you felt is gone
For the ones you could once count on
Have left you to walk alone, on and on.
Jan 3, 2011
Nothing Authentic
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 5:32 AM
Looking into the mirror
Scanning that expression,
A character from a movie:
With the eyes of another,
The lips of another,
The skin of another.
Replicated smile
And a plagiarized laugh
A soul molded by scores of people.
And nothing seems to be authentic.
There is no real beauty on that face,
There is nothing unique
It seems too plain to be real!
The expressions change from bright to bleak;
There is nothing authentic.
Just tesellated repetitions.
And though it brings much sorrow,
And though it perforates esteem,
That tear of disappointment
That cascades down the blotched cheek-
It shines
With the light of authentic thought
And that's all there is.
There is simply authentic thought,
And authentic love,
None of which reflects on the surface.
The surface of the sea
Is all that people see
Only a diver, one of heart
Dares to explore beneath
And in a rusted clam,
In the depths of a coral labyrinth
Does the magnificent pearl lie
Does the understanting lie.
Nov 28, 2010
With the viscous pulls on my wings,
Stay rooted firmly, on the ground,
Shaking uncontrollably,
The rebellious streak lying unfound;
Though you know you cannot deny me
The fortunes I deserve,
I remain bound by your lack of diplomacy,
Lost in a reserve.
You ask of me to fly with my wings tied,
Ask of me to smile in venomous bile,
Having robbed me of the need
To want to live in happiness indeed!
The things you do to me
Blind me to the point I cannot see,
You demand of me so much more
When you've taken away my tools and left my heart sore.
And now I long,
With every beat of a song,
To be free
Of your tyranny,
And every sucking pull
Chafes my face like wool
So much so that tears burn
My sore face as my stomach might churn-
For the day when I can fly
With my wings untied
And smile with all my heart
Sans the feeling that part of me just died.
Sep 1, 2010
Heiroglyphics on tombs never fade
The hearts carved on trees never fade
A dot of permanent ink will never fade
The need for family will never fade.
But memories, so set in stone,
Dissolve into the jetstreams of the open sky
It's time that decides to wilingly pry
The happiness of our past from our hands.
Sitting silently sometimes,
Regurgitating the painful emotions of absence
Hating myself for forgetting, little by little,
The cost of love, pence by pence.
My apologies; I don't mean to forget you,
You just seem to fade away from my conscience..
Pixels of you disappeareing one by one,
And a blank canvas stares back with confidence.
Mar 21, 2010
28) Slashes on My Wrist
1 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 6:44 AM
The searing pain I feel across my chest
Is all your fault;
Tears are beginning to glaze my eyes,
Black drops on the asphalt
And by the end of the night
I know I'm going to lose this fight
With my own will and my own ways
Because I've been thinking for days and days and days-
Is this really what I want, the pain?
Do I want to feel hurt all over again?
Isn't it better to end such reckless insanity?
When you told me, my eyes did rain
Tears of fear and hopeless on the terrain
Left me wondering, is this your charity?
I would never want you to go like this,
Sad and crying that you I'd terribly miss
But this darkness - it won't stop mobbing me.
I know there's a way to stop the ripping in my chest,
Sorrow can get to the best of the best
Blood is clouding all I could see.
Distract me from this emotional backlash;
Sharp blades I see; a hidden stash-
Just one swipe and it'll all be gone
(The pain, the hurt, the sorrow)
Words adorn the base of my wrist
Want infiltrates my mind like mist
Not caring what you think, I reach and slash-
And when it's over I won't feel again,
Your presence keeps me sane
Now that you're going to go away
I won't be here to play.
Feb 11, 2010
23) Drown (Part I)
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 6:05 AM
As the winter rains tattoo the windows,
And the skies turn inky black,
Walking on, I know there is no road
That will help take me back.
For I feel so lost in a giant world
Made out of concrete and metal dreams,
Each step I take is made so complicated,
No simplicity remains, it seems.
Where did all the happiness go?
Did it evaporate like these puddles of rain?
For Man makes this life so hard to live,
So borderlined and downright insane.
The largest lakes or the smallest teardrops
Call me name for I, in them, want to drown
To insulate my mind from the grasps of the world
As this insanity continues to pull me down.
Feb 10, 2010
21) Why So Hard?
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 3:15 PM
Every step taken forward,
Is bringing regret closer than ever,
Every glance up norward,
Makes sure that there is no joy, never.
But of course there is,
There is hope in everything.
Hope in all but this.
For moments flit across one's path
Like shadow crossing streets,
Like the moonlight switches objects,
Like hungry lice on beets.
Moments like these break one's armour
And rob them of hope,
Leaving them to mope,
With not a way to cope.
If answers come, we will recover,
But if the don't, the regret will hover,
Haunting us until we give in:
Give in to sheer denial,
Not a hint of luck on speed-dial,
Which is when we will drown to deep,
And aqueous sorrow into our skin will seep.
Feb 7, 2010
17) I Know Pain Too
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 9:35 PM
Mirrored in a person's eyes,
These lips smile and these eyes twinkle
These tresses flick and ripple
These bubbles of ecstacy show
Just these, these, and nothing more.
Not shown are the purpling bruises
Hidden beneath sweaters and a shirt,
Not shown are the marks of tears
As soap counters their tracks of hurt
Nor the blood from internal pain
Borne by the sounds of metal on flesh
Neither the the sounds of sobs again
That with each moment emerge afresh.
Just that mask,
That hides so much and shows so little,
So that the world does not judge,
And the soul is not be belittled.
Where there is no option, no shelter
The only alternative is the open;
The solace of birds and seas:
Peace do they singly shapen.
No support, no help, no aid,
Asking for the hurt to quickly fade
Just a stoked poker face
Shows and blooms and well is made.
Lies coat this utopian world
That has been built out of nothing but dreams
And what there is to my sharp pain
Nothing, no one can dream to realize
Free to be hurt, controlled and defied
I may dream, sound true, but my words are lies,
Not a single essence of my masked pain is
Mirrored in a person's eyes.
Feb 3, 2010
Though the spirit is elevating,
I do look out the window
And the sight strikes me of an epidemic
The twisted face of a widow....
There lies a battlefield stained with tears,
Where men simply lie drowned in fears
And the face is upturned in grief,
Teary dewdrops like that of a morning leaf;
There is one in sorrow no one knows the source of,
One in pain no one knows the meaning of,
One in worry for the one in sorrow no one knows the source of,
One in worry for all three.
One upset over the rotten fruits of sweet labour,
One upset over the species of the fruit of no labour,
One I feel I have upset with a lecture,
One who's moodiness is only a conjecture.
Why do we drown ourselves in hurt,
When there is really nothing curt?
Why do we sleep with frowns on our heads,
When we never even toss and turn in our beds?
And such stupidity, such complication
Is a contagious disease,
For when one has shed the slightest tear
Not a single person seems to be at ease.
Only I am happy in a land of the dead,
A yellow flower in a sea of red,
For it seems to be that I am immune,
To the grief with which others are commune.
Sadness spreads like an infection
And ruins characters built to perfection
And it is only we who give in
To the temptation of hurt originated from false sin.
Feb 2, 2010
11) Sharp Edges
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 6:39 AM
If words were like knives
In the hands of a killer,
Their cut would be sharp
And our bodies would be stiller.
If they could cut with the grace
And the stab of a dagger,
The world would be dead,
Empty even in it's swagger.
If words were like sharp edges,
So easily bringing to skin blood,
Slowly removing a layer of sanity,
Our virtues would be caked in mud.
If every utterance hurt,
If every sentence could kill,
You'd be the only human left
With much secrets to spill.
If words were so sharp,
So shiny, so cruel,
This world would be gone
And crushed into gruel.
If you could hear yourself speak
And spit out venom with every syllable,
The world and you would remain
Eternally immiscible.
Jan 27, 2010
Only through experiences do we learn,
The complexity with which life can toss and churn,
How the energy of the waves runs down our face,
How in sorrow we are but a black hole in outer space-
And the pluck of this hurt,
That throws itself against our happiness,
An onslaught of anger and grief
Berating our contendedness.
Like the work of the wind,
These emotions war on our happy souls,
Dragging with it's flow: the essence of a smile,
And leaving behind only bleeding holes.
Like a disease, a virus, a breakthrough,
Sadness erodes all peace.
We can only hope for the famine to cease,
For you to embrace happiness,
Yet you're too far gone,
You tell me so with your snappiness.
Your whirpool blackens,
And walls crumble.
Your whirpool strengthens,
And hopes tumble.
Your whirpool wins,
And birds flee,
Your whirpool dies,
And we cry in glee.
8) There's Always Hope
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 7:29 AM
To you there's no hope, no,
But I understand,
How things might be getting
A little out of hand,
Without a shoulder to weep on,
Without a bed to sleep on.
To you the world is black and white,
Yet I understand
How you only see grey
Because you need a helping hand,
But you're recovering from a fall,
That's all I want, yes, that's all.
You may be right, but I know you're wrong,
Your heart will never stop singing a song
To lure Hope to your side and she'll come,
Just believe me.
You may lose your head and think you'll die
From this pain that tells you life's a lie,
But there's always Hope,
You'll see.
Jan 24, 2010
7) Spare Me That Frustration
9 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 5:19 AM
Why don't you ever get it,
Pain is not the answer.
It's the question,
The answer is "no".
It's not the solution,
Not the means by which you'll be better.
It's a maddening lure
To which you say "no".
You must enjoy it,
Hurting yourself so vehemently,
Until the blood from your body vanishes,
Huddled in a pool on the floor.
You must be so relieved,
To inflict pain for reasons nonexistent,
To hurt all those who ever believed
That you had it in you to be strong and let go.
Go on. Hurt yourself.
I won't be an obstacle anymore.
I'll let you live in your pain,
Even if it's a crime to do so.
Like the spread of a single spore,
Hurt your body, feel the sore,
Believe in your ignorant core,
Live in your pain galore.
Jan 18, 2010
5) Don't Cry Tears
4 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 6:55 AM
Though I'm smiling,
When he bids me farewell,
A life without him well,
I'm crying.
Though I'm smiling,
When he ends my world,
Leaves me when I'm being whirled,
I'm crying.
Oh no you don't see my weep,
You just see my grinning face,
Telling you what you did, wasn't a waste.
You just see my smile,
Like I accept what you do,
But no one sees me cry....
Because I don't cry tears,
I don't let myself weep,
Even though I hurt myself so deep.
I don't cry, I don't cry tears,
There's just death and hope leaking from my eyes,
And I still seem so wise.
You see me smile,
You see me laugh,
You see me accept your wish like it isn't breaking my heart,
You see me jump,
You see me hug,
You see me ready to let the world fall apart,
But I'm crying, though you don't see,
I've run out of tears...
I'm crying and only I know,
Because all you see me is leaking air from my eyes.
Tears are gone,
No more song,
And all you see me do is smile.
But I cry,
Tearless I sigh,
Wondering if I'll make it through a while.
Jan 16, 2010
Ever needed to escape time?
Ever needed to walk the lifeline?
The end is on your mind,
Loneliness is all you can find.
Ever needed to wait things out?
Ever needed to slowly die out?
Guess all the stories are true,
When in mind, there's nothing more to do
But to break out and fly over the edge
Leap down the Holy Ledge
Fly and fly and fly,
Fly like there's no tomorrow.
But to dream of all those dreams stuck in the hedge,
To dream a lonely dream, the only pledge
To fly and fly and fly
Fly like there's no tomorrow,
Time will work things out.
Time will carry us through this endless game.
Time will help us, it will help us,
Or so I hope that it's not too late.
I need escape, I need to breathe,
I need to fly over the seas.
I need to escape, I need to breathe,
Counter this friction, covered in grease,
Just embracing escapism,
The need to leave the world behind and move on,
Just embracing escapism.
Jan 6, 2010
Abattoir
Abattoir of memories
Hang from the poplar trees
Like strings of spider web
Swaying in the steady breeze.
They are eroded graduallyBy the ebb and flow of time
And they fade into the air
Hiding both our loves and crime.
Abattoir of memories
My own pet slaughterhouse
Will remain permanent
As memories will escape like a mouse.
Lovely pain and happiness,
Gone with this abattoir,
Revel in emotionlessness
And a tired sight so noir.
Why but I can break it down
I can surely control Time & raze
Raze the ghosts of my past,
For it’s just too much time cannot erase.
Let the memories linger,
Let the pain stay,
Let it remind me of the past,
Pray that remain, it may.
;;
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