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Feb 6, 2012
Oh, Look. Utopia.
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 4:17 PM
The visions I see, the visions I feel,
Why must they be tinged with fantasy,
And leave me reckless?
They leave me helpless,
A newborn calf standing on her toothpick legs.
Why must I have to taste the flavourless dregs?
Those daydreams take away from me
All semblance of reality
I wake up to a utopia so doctored.
Though behind my eyes, I see a perfect world
In reality, it's laced with famine and disease,
More holes than Swiss cheese.
But in the mountains where the buttery sunlight reigns,
In the sorrowful heart which happiness feigns,
Amidst a field of tulips,
Red, yellow and blue;
In the holy water that runs through rivers deep,
In the fertile soil within which the aromatic rain seeps,
In the eyes of a winner,
Eyes hazel and true...
I pleasure in such a fantasy;
But when faced with such happiness in reality,
Enriched with the belief
I have found utopia.
Under our feet.
Sep 16, 2011
To my mind,
I feel as if lately,
We haven't been in touch.
My heart whispers enticing words to me.
Words that I secretly want to hear,
But of course, you would know that.
Seductive whispers. You would oppose.
You would warn me against the temptation of succumbing to it.
But I have fallen into its alluring chasm,
And am unwilling to climb out. You must save me.
Mind,
I am overcome with emotions
That, like rivers nourished by the recent monsoons
Gush through my blood, saturated with love,
And with hate and with fear and with presumptuous pomposity.
Each emotion is the string of a marionette;
I pulls me in one direction, and then tugs me to the next.
Crooning with love. Simmering with anger. Drowning in hate.
You, who like a referee
Was supposed to monitor this change in entropy,
Have suddenly fled. The maps are blank and my GPS fails.
I searched in the bushes, under the bed, behind the curtains for you
Before these emotions could win their tug of war
And drag me to a corner to harass me senselessly.
If you don't return,
I will surely run mad. Maddened by the love I feel
When I imagine those wholesome faces,
Maddened by the stabbing needles of sorrow
That I wish could be a Chinese masseur skilled with acupuncture.
And crazed by the anger
That calls upon my blood to boil as if my organs were cooking.
Mind,
I need you to return.
I need you to scold my senseless heart with your logic,
And to preserve my identity before I lose it
To the separate entity that is attempting to beat itself out of my chest.
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.
Dec 28, 2010
Stop, Pause, Rewind, Press Play.
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 6:01 AM
If with every sigh of faith, I could freeze
The world, this time, these words, the breeze,
If we could put on repeat this moment forever
And revisit these emotions wherever, whenever,
What we wouldn't give,
To stay as we are and live
A life centered around our Now
If only we knew how...
At the sharp rising of the sun,
Or at the blanket of night, at one,
When my mind lies alert and thoughtless
I think of our story; I'm an empty mess unless
I think of our first hug,
Our first banter,
Our first song,
Our first field trip,
Our first moment of truth
Our first admission,
Our first awkward moment;
And the first time I first looked into your eyes
And saw in the depths something beyond comprehension.
And in that moment, I knew, I realized
That life isn't all that bad, it's not a ticket of detention.
Because though many a times, we lose those we love,
Even though our hearts are laid on a poker table to be played,
For every One that is lost, One is gained
Someone special approaches to mend your heart so frayed-
And in that one moment,
With that look in the eyes,
With the tactile sense of deep connection,
That moment naked of all sorts of lies,
Your heart yearns to say "I love you"
And the best part is that you mean it too
Because in a few years,
We'll be but faded memories,
Devoid of somebody to call,
Someone's name to carve on trees,
A firm hand to break your fall,
It's justified to wish that you could freeze
The best time of your life,
The Firsts; if we could relive them, oh on bended knees,
I'd propose for those moments back.
As these moments slip away with time,
You wish you could pause this process of growing up.
Stay forever in a world of honest friendship, honest naivete,
And an innocent heart, believing love to be as sweet as syrup.
Dedicated to a Special Unnamed Friend for being a great influence in my life so far ♥
May 24, 2010
Poet's/Author's Note
2 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 7:03 AMI am currently writing two books side by side and I would like to offiliate them so a) I can keep writing them and b) they idea doesn't get busted. I have two stories to juggle because I have continual writer's block, and I get inspiration for one or the other on occasion, so I write whichever one is more appealing to me on a particular day.
I have two novels running: a fantasy one and a modern-day one that I like to classify as philosophy.
Realm of Dead is the working title of my fantasy one. Brief summary: The Labyrinth is the Eden of earth - a network of underground tunnels and chambers imbibed with immortality that prevents it's refugees from aging under it's protection. Gwen of the Duchovnys, born under an Eclipse, is daughter of the new king, who, along with ten royal Welsh families, fled to the Labyrinth post the death of the former King. The godliness of the Labyrinth is marred only by the presence of the Dark Angel, a death-like statue in the middle- the Messenger from Hell. Suspicious occurences shroud the presence of the Dark Angel and each passing day, this Eden turns slowly to something darker, threatening to betray the secret of these families, preserved since before the Plantagenets, to the modern world. Gwen and Emrys of the Silas', her best, most intimate friend, find themselves far too entangled in these matters and attempt to handle their reputation, their far-too-intimate friendship and Gwen's suspicious connection to Death while keeping themselves a secret from the modern era.
Stepmom is the working title for my psychological-philosophical realistic book, though it was originally "Far Too Precious". Brief summary: Panacea Suvari, widowed, is a substitute teacher who finds herself attracted to the Jared Sullivan, divorced father of one of her students. When they decide to get married, she finds a maze of problems in her life, like Chastity, his daughter, a suicidal girl who disapproves of the marriage and shows it but self-mutilation. A battle ensues between Panacea and Chastity, where Panacea tries to assist Chastity get over her suicidal tendencies but the closer she gets, the bloodier Chastity becomes. She loves Jared and won't separate, but she wants to save Chastity, and when an atheist Panacea discovers the peace of a church, she finds a new insight on Saving her stepdaughter. A nouveau tale of rebellion, faith and finding the honesty of one's emotions.
Copyright © Aishwarya Nagar
I'm interested in writing them and finishing them, then contacting a publishing company on publishing them and I HOPE people will like the books. I'll put up a chapter apiece on here if you ask for it really nicely =)
Ash xx
May 1, 2010
4) Thunderclaps, Night Sky
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 10:55 AM
Claps of thunder
Rolling like atolls on the sea
Across the moon-drenched sky,
And I can't help but wonder why....
Dark clouds twist into shapes
Silhouetted black in the light
Omens flashing across the day sky,
And I wonder why...
The rain tattooes the carapace
Which shatters at the paranormal force,
Like a curtain of life and chaos both
Trees cower in sheer remorse,
And I hide in the building,
Not permitted to follow the drops
That hammer over the window
And land in puddles with innocent plops.
If I could come and go like the rain,
If I could hide like the moon, I would,
If I could show the world my dark skies
And prove that be the best I could.
If I could be so sudden yet so discrete,
And like the rolling thunder sweep your feet...
Regret filling me, the sight of the changing sky,
And I ask myself why I do cry.
Feb 9, 2010
19) Every Memory
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 6:54 AM
The times you laugh,
You remember the most,
Because it's evidence
That you're not a ghost.
But when you cry,
Your life is divisible
Because it feels as if
You wander invisible.
If there's not a reflection in the mirror,
If on sight of crime, you feel no thriller
It's just not right to be so sad,
And to make moments simply a filler.
If nothing else, just smile
Because it'll make you feel good for a while
It may not be easy, but set the tears free
If grief is what you want, just let it be!
But don't hold on,
Not every memory
Need be of sorrow,
And pain so sensory.
Not every twinge
Of mortal pain
Needs to be felt
Twice again.
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.
Jan 29, 2010
10) But I Do, But I Do
1 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 9:16 AM
Just because I'm besotted
Doesn't mean I'm in love with you,
Just 'cause I miss you every day
Doesn't mean I'd spend my life with you.
Just because you're my wonderworld
Doesn't mean I'm the one for you,
I say I don't love you,
But I do, but I do.
How do you explain such a crazy feeling,
This tingling of wonder and spice?
Raining down from my wonderous ceiling,
But oh, it feels so nice.
Though I say that I don't need you,
The truth is that I do, oh I do,
I may say that it's crazy to love you
But I do, but I do,
But I do,
Oh I still love you.
Though I'm besotted I'm not in love,
I'm just head over heels for you, for you, for you, for you,
I know I hide it so much,
And deny it as such,
But I do, But I do.
I do love you.
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.
Jan 18, 2010
6) The World Has Just Begun
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 6:06 PM
Let it be done, let it die,
Let it all crumble to dust,
Let all meaning become a lie,
Let us only recognize if we must.
Let it die, let it die,
So no one sees the dead and gone sigh,
Let it waste, let it die,
So our world climbs high...
How could we let it waste away,
The beauty of this life?
Murder and an escapade
In one breath; so hard to defy,
To throw it all away,
I'll tell you it's a crime,
I'll tell you it's a crime.
Bringing back what's gone is pain,
We don't want to live the past again,
Strewn with such a fairytale,
Tales that make our face pale.
Let life go by so fast,
Let the winds beat a tattoo on our mast,
Just subconsciously letting fate
Have it's way....
Letting destiny do what it does,
So we aren't so much a fuss.
But we waste away, we see clovers,
Letting destiny take over.
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.
Dec 24, 2009
Poem # 23 Fighting Temptation
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 7:57 AM
Fighting TemptationThere’s a promiscuous woman inside me
She’s calling your name again and again,
She’s flicking her hair to the breeze,
Swaying her hips in search of men.
Her heart’s match is you, she knows, She parts her lips to taste your scent
And wanton through her mouth flows,
Her will towards you is beautifully bent.
So she stretches out an arm to feel—
Just the air.
Because you’re so far, far away,
And my heart falls in everlasting dismay
For there’re mountains, earth, water and people
That stand firmly in our way.
And I’ve been told I can have anything later,
You too; but are you willing to wait?
I’m resisting this lust that
Like fire courses through my veins,
Fighting temptation everyday,
Obliterating thoughts of your warm arms around me,
Trying to forget the seductive words you’d say.
Shuddering sorrowfully whenever I wake from dreams
Where the sensation of your lips on mine is gone.
Dec 22, 2009
Poem # 22 If I'd Scream Loud Enough
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 5:33 PM
A poem I wrote reflecting Leslie's feelings in Ink Exchange, Book 2 of Wicked Lovely by Melissa Marr. She is directing this to Irial in her heart,
If I’d Scream Loud Enough
The wind may blow in the other direction,
It may yell into our ears—
But nothing will stop me from screaming
Even if you don’t hear.
Even the tallest mountain discourages my act,
What, have you now taken sides?
The rivers swim away from my simple touch,
Is it in darkness your heart resides?
I remember when I was longing for your touch,
Your promiscuous fingers called my name,Your inhumanity to me was nothing much,
Just an inconvenience in the game.
But I didn’t know you’d use me,
You were telling me you’d free me from my pain,
You freed me of hurt, pain, fear and too glee,
And all those beautiful emotions that had kept me sane.
I’d escape from you, oh yes I would,
Even though in your otherworldly love I live,
I’d wrench the door open and run away
Unbinding myself from the gifts you give.
I treasure my humanity, sanity more than I do you,
To free me, you can’t even leave me, can you?
To give me happiness, you can’t even let me go?
Though I’ve told you that this life hurts me so much more,
Why do you try to kill me so slow?
There’s people out there waiting for me to run,
There’re lovers and friends who’d never hurt me in a huff,
I know I can resist your passion and leave
If I’d scream loud enough.
Dec 21, 2009
Poem # 19 Erased
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 8:46 PMErased
What would it be like for the grass of forests?
Only I would know for I’ve once been eroded.
Only I could tell because I’m raw to the emotion.
Only I could say that it’s poisonous as potion.
What would it be like for a sprinkling hose?
Only I would know for I’ve disappeared,
Saturated into the air through which the sun seared,
Droplets slowly evaporating like they feared.
I compare myself the most, right now,
To the light grey lines of charcoal or pencil,
Obliterated so easily by blocks of rubber,
No trace remains of my substance or stencil.
I don’t want to be erased for I’m made to be viewed by Man.
I don’t want to disappear for I’ve made my present a good Plan.
I don’t want to be forgotten because I want to be loved,
And if I were to vanish, I’d rather be -down a cliff- shoved.
I need an identity because I am a part
Of those good old traditions which because of me, start.
I want a fixed factor because I’ve worked so hard
To not be a stranger in a world of difference and lard.
So keep your word, why don’t you understand?
To be accepted truly I need your damn hand!
You promised that I’d live on until the end,
But now I’m crying for a miraculous Godsend!
Because you can’t save me,
Because you can’t be right,
Because you can’t be true,
Because your promises aren’t bright,
I’m withering away into the sickening night,
With not a drop of humanity in me to help me fight.
Poem # 18 I, Your Heart
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 8:39 PMI, Your Heart ♥
You find solace in the sound of my beating;
My calming rhythm, my adaptation to your heating;
I keep you walking the tightrope of Life
I’m the reason you can bleed if you’ve been hurt in strife.
I’m why you fall in love, why you hurt, why you grin
I’m why you want more, why you cry, why you sing a hymn,
I’m the root of your existence,
And you overlook me with no resistance,
Though I know to me you’re oblivious
It’s nice to see that my effect is obvious.
But lately I’ve been thinking about how much I mean to you.
I mean, you hurt me a lot and leave me in rue.
And yet I continue to slog and pump your blood,
I continue to hold the burden of you life and your mud,
But I get the brunt of your work, not you,Whose life are you trying to screw?
You break me with every guy,
You break me when you kill a fly.
I give you blood. I give you love.
I give you sensation and emotion and all else above.
I fashion your mobility, your choice, your sake,
And yet all you give me is painful heartbreak.
Poem # 16 Melodies Like Ribbon Fly
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 5:45 AMMelodies Like Ribbon Fly
I falter at the sound of that sweet music,
Such melody eluding the lies of life;
Like pure, auditory, saccharine magnificence!
Sad beauty singing the woes of a wife;
I turn up the dial and whimper in earnest
The slow, earnest flow of the song is like white-
An expanse of so much, so hidden…
And her sorrow is the dark shadow in sight.I bow my head as I hear her sing,
The song isn’t music; it’s the tune of her heart
Stuck on heartbreak and jammed on that floor,
She sings the song like she can do no more.
Her melodies like ribbon fly,
Travelling with the current of the gale
Fuelled by the ferocity of her hope
That her love listens and to leave her he’ll fail.
Broken, listeners like me bordering the earth
Send our hopes to accompany hers,
As her lonesome ribbon of melody flies
Yearning to relight heartbroken embers.
Poem # 15 Not My Skin
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 5:27 AM
Not My Skin
This is not my skin-
Coarse, riddled, like melon rind.
This is not my hair
Two strings of ribbon tied around my head.
This is not my nose,
Halved and jewelled and insignificant.
These are not my lashes,
Covered and suppressed, so invisible.
The only hint of me are the eyes,Hollowed holes; only they let my soul bare.
Otherwise, my face is covered,
And none of the skin shows if I’m shocked from a scare.
It takes effort to pull off this suffocating skin,
Inch by inch, the material parts with my pelt-
And when the strangulating suction is no more,
I look at the beautiful mask in my hands and sigh,
The sophistication
The beauty
The otherworldly demeanour
The bright jewels,
It’s not my skin.
Poem # 13 Freefall
0 comments These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 1:50 AM
Free-fall
Is this how it feels to fall?
The adrenaline that gushes in my veins
Seems to push my heart upwards into my mouth,
And drowns away all the pains.Is this how every suicide in the world feels?
Free-fall through the weightless air,
Like my feet were swept clean from the ground,
And hardly any of this heartbreak seems fair.
I’m just hurt that I didn’t find this earlier
Find what? This exhilaration of falling from above
Falling through time and meaning and fate
Falling, falling, falling in love.
;;
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