Albedo

I don't understand the human nature

I understand mine perfectly well, and I thought that is all I needed
Though there is more to life than the company of your own conscience
Human connections, see, lie at the core of the labyrinth of existence
We don't know the way around, so we stumble upon tricky grounds
The way back doesn't matter much,
Whether we sprint or amble in our walk
Nor whether we cross the length as we cry in despair or mumble prayers

It's only when you try to look for someone that you get lost

I tell my heart to "Speak !"
And it does, till it's gratified
I'm glad it grew to have a nature so mild
Usually kind and as fickle as a child
Occasionally brittle when it smells the odor of a lie
Hangs a little at the thought of mischief
And bangs so loud at night at the shutters of my mind's eyes
When it has a thing or two to say
Forbids my mind to switch off the lights and retreat to lay
So I listen, quietly
And I hear the giggles within as it's relieved of the heaviness
Untold lines
Forebodings and hopes
Romantic excursions and broken convictions
Prospect regrets for not having spoken enough, before we left
Hearts are so outright ,man
And human relations aren't akin to a pilgrimage uphill
When hearts are reckoned upon and discerned when they tell
Wish I could grab another being by the shoulder and bid them
To let their hearts rant, bargain in the open on what to give and take
Kick and squall if they want, even kiss and embrace , if needed at all

To just stop being so uptight it puts down their fire

I found it so cleansing and light, though one's emotions would tire

Wish people would tear their chests open for a hand shake

Let their disowned sins run and rollick under the sun
Untie their tongues and scream to the world their stifled thoughts 
Benevolent
Or insolent

But alas,
Hearts are too fragile to be exposed in the open

Though this one doesn't care, the spoiled wretch can't be left alone
Though it got hit a few times, flung by a handful of stones
Grew asthmatic with time, for the air is so rich
With rotten breaths
Of rotten intentions
Of rotten souls
It's gotten old and sickly
When still acting bold and bubbly
Perhaps
Hearts are to be kept prisoners of our rib cages
And another dimension of the labyrinth is woven
From the threads of every word that perishes within,
Unspoken

Strange, you think you pass on like a cloud in midsummer, plain and noiseless.
But sprouts appear where your shadow used to linger..

19th Jan 2014
It feels like time travel, flipping through old stuff..


"Did you know that one can communicate with the infinite blue ? all you need is scribble on the sand what it is you want to tell the waves, and they would leap forward and quickly devour it lest another pair of eyes could steal a glimpse of your private conversation. 
I used to go there to let go of trapped troubles and contemplate the multitude of anonymous footprints on the plane of the shore."

Ich Sterbe

"And if i’m to die before we spend a soft day
Know my final thoughts will be of regret.
If I'm to drown in the deep sea that parts us
I once lived and loved, don’t forget
Give my paintings to Alice
Tell all my good friends
That I didn’t dare
Earn their 
Respect"

I wonder what my final words would be

The last voice to tickle
My ears
Who is going to be the last to bid me farewell
Would they be clowning
Would it be a talk over the phone
Tender, or would I be running off alone
With tears in my eyes, frowning
At what I was told
I wonder
What would be the last scene I behold
A blooming  garden from the windows of a hospital room
The landscape of the earth from the height of a mountain
Is it the face of a lover, the kind countenance of my mother
I wonder and wonder
If people would recall my name ten years after
When i'm long bedded in the cold soil
And the waves of grief and turmoil have taken a rest
Would they
Remember me with smiling eyes
And curved lips, would they
Utter ardent prayers in moonless nights
Wishes heavy in meaning yet
Easy on the tongue, like the quips of kin
Fragments of the day to lighten my tight grave
And my
Sack of sins

Would they
Pay to my memory compelled eulogies that lack essence
Or
Put my share aside when they dole
Would they think of me
When they gaze at a painting that doesn't make any sense

"She would've debased it with guile, that one"

Would they be condoled by my dusty pile of unread books
My violin with rusty screws and profuse Pirastro
Laying on the couch surrounded by pots of agen flowers that I used to sing to
In that bare hall, with echoing walls
Could those who loved me tell that I must've lived with a burning zeal
Yet even more so have longed to leave
As I spaced out lengthily during a meal
Could they have possibly smelt
The smoke coming out of my ears and nostrils
And somehow have known all the way
How I earnestly felt

That I must've loved them more than I have shown

Would they still tag me in old pictures and retell my mirthful stories
Keep my number on their phones
The last of my remainders
A nagging reminder of my fading existanse
Before my soul
Was let free

Would they recall my life for the rest of their lives
Or
Mourn its end for mere seconds ?

And would they

Read these words ,with dread laden

Affable confessions and delightful visions
Insecurities, absurd, late adolescence anxieties stirred
Frolicking in my head
Would they repeat these rhymes in my trembling voice, at moments shaken
At times strong
Fill between the widened lines and empty spaces
The codes and cogent phrases I'll take along
When I'm long

Dead

?

De Profundis

They say your cheeks are mysteriously moist, as you lay
Your lips are rosy, and this faint smile is printed on your face in all obliviousness to the hilarity of world
You would open your eyes occasionally when the room is crowded
Perhaps when your favorite reader recites your favorite Surah on the radio
Or when your mother whispers to you a lullaby from a distant childhood
She
Sounds so grave as she brushes your hair, hung on your brows
The lyrics seem to have escaped the tips of her tongue

You look 
But you don't see

Hey, what's your name, quite friend ?
I shall call thee Prince Whishkin
So what are you thinking about right now, Whishkin ? it can't be bile with that pleasant smile
I shall ask you, you'd understand the meaning of it all better than most of our lot
For we are all blind
Puzzled and confined
You, after all, are the emobidiment of our most horrifying blot
Being stuck in time, frozen on the line wrecks the lain plot, ya see
If I learnt that you opened the eyes of your soul for a bit, I'd awfully be interested to know what you found
Stay, do you wonder how did a stranger, though mind their life they are ought
Have grown such a deep fondness of you
Stops to gaze at you so eloquently from afar, yet daren't step closer
Pray for you to come back from the vortex of nought
Or reach the other shore
Though the pain you'd leave behind is a bottomless bore

I hear they are taking you away, soon

Tired of waiting, I guess

Don't be surprised, we were born impatient
And cases of charity aren't kept for long, when they aren't much copious
Guardians of the patient
Regardless, I'm not that strong to speak in locutions instead of weak metaphors
To face your smile and not shatter into pieces
It mocks my whole existence
My vile breakdowns while working on my thesis
I'm not yet strong to stand in front of your lifeless body
Asking for absolution for my pulsing limbs that write these meek phrases
You stall your fate as you tip-toe on a fine line across the crevice
Though you swing at the faintest wind you still hang in place, in such grace

Refusing to fall

There is a storm of vigor trapped in these lungs and your soul 
Seems to have grown wings

Perhaps
You would pardon my obstinate refusal to call, if you knew my faint will
For your sight would scar this young gill
And it's not your frailty, by all means not my confounded compassion
What torments me in this fashion
As I stare at your vulnerable body, wrapped in a network of lifelines,
The frozen tips of your fingers,
And your head ,so bare
Your graying hair

It's none but your strength, mon cher

A strength that I'd never match, though your chest seems as still as a black forest
And the rim of your cape of victory, I will never catch
Grand and august
An uproarious tempest
Your strength, a presaging wave soaring from the depths
An epic tremor of insurrection, roaring

"There is still life in here"

There is still life in there, and it humbles me

I stare from my place, unbeknownst to you
With lips sealed tight, eyes recording an Iliad before its prime
Frozen in time
Robbed of its solemn rhymes
Its past and future
Its angst and torture
Of the thrum of life, and the finality of mortem
You got nothing but to persevere 
Every second 
Is a life time 
Every breath 
Is a puff of burning obduracy against the chill of death

Pray, tell
How does life become so precious when you we right at the frontier ?
Why are we so ingrate and capricious to realize that there is no price tag
On being alive, no matter how drear
That if we had to decide whether we could reside on a cliff
A square so narrow that there is only room for our feet
With the abyss beneath, the ocean, eternal darkness
Eternal solitude on which you could lengthily brood
For a lifetime, a thousand years, an eternity so queer
That it would've been much better to relish on a promise of tomorrow
Right then and there, than to perish down to our marrows

I gaze at you where my ears could pick the cries of that bleak box
That announces the state of your heart and lungs
And I heave and pant with every morbid round
Though I should've gotten around by now
A little mound up there
A wearisome trip up the hill
A slip down a chasm
A perpetuity in wait for that sound
Chiming my breaths to the rhythm of your beats, profound
Though calm and still
Like an ancient psalm

Hey,

What would I do if you left before I climbed out the pit, Whishkin ?

Note 13

"Anarchy"

Is such a copious word.
I think that's the perfect adjective to describe my current life. I have no recognition of any authority in flesh, and it makes me feel liberated.
It's not...I don't have a despondency for revolution, it's just that I don't like someone chalking the path I need to follow.
"Have to", "Must", "obliged", "Supposed to", these words make me cringe. Inwardly. They make me feel like a prisoner. Like I got no grip on my own life. Iron shackles on my ankles.

A friend of mine once mentioned that this perhaps is due to my struggle at the beginning of my adulthood ..Though I didn't struggle much in the general sense, I could relate to some extent, for there are certain tribulations that make one develop an innate feeling of arrogance ; more accurately, some sort of indifference to whatever shots fired at them later on. I've seen it all already, and people don't surprise me much anymore. Though I'm still a green horn, I've felt things that changed me in ways I can't describe, and seeing that i came through, I no longer allow anyone to make me feel like I'm wanting, like I did it with the aid of luck or pity. It's true that what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger, and makes you look down on it as you stand erect in full glory, shaking off the rubble of your battles. 

If I keep the Lord in my heart, there is no power on this earth that could make me kneel.

I've been called arrogant to my face countless times but I only think it's a kind of self-respect. My way of rewarding myself at my sunken victories, unheard and unwitnessed.

That's the least one owes oneself in this ruthless world that knows no mercy.

If I'm at gunpoint, I'd smile to my cheek bones and kiss the barrel. Pretty poetic and Thespian, I admit, but I know that I'm that kinda person; when push comes to shove I would at least pass on with a dignified air, a grand theatrical act of haughtiness. Prolly would quote Pushkin or say something like, "We shall face again, old sport"

On Vicious Truths

The transition from the usual candid expression on your face to a twisted grimace
Caused a throbbing ache in my chest.

There aren't many things that I regret in this life; the things that I didn't repeat aloud are a few, 
But fewer are the verbal pests that I casually threw,
Their fewness is something of which I'm proud
Being so shrewd and wise to my extreme best.

But once or twice; I could clearly see it. I could read it in their eyes :
Perhaps

They could've done just fine
Without learning that one.

I knew beforehand that what I say comes 10 times affront because I say it ,careless and blunt,
And aim at the festering wound. with a precision so sedulous.
I'm a pragmatic doctor like that.
And I could see that you withheld your tongue for quite a time,
So I looked away because I knew your eyes would be shooting questions

That I didn't want to answer

You know me too well to believe that I meant ill
That I was merely trying to compel your eyes to meet those of a truth that you couldn't bear to find
When it was staring at you
When it was screaming at you,
With tears in its eyes

Won't you stop dancing with lies and acknowledge me

Perhaps the whispers of zealous love have ruined your ears

And I had nothing to lose but our bond if you happen to be so obtuse as to play the weak card of jealousy just to deny the facts that I was trying to shove down your throat
Though it sounds like I gloat of knowing better while I rebuke you, as If I'm trying to say that there are more wrongs
And terrors
In this world than such a..

Such a spec of dirt on a cracked mirror

Don't look so amazed at my brazen ways
I may cast a floodlight at your face, but my only intention was for you to see through the haze of your own denial

You said it's just a story to laugh at but I could see you were hurting
And I didn't want you to suffer
A pain that you didn't need
A pain of a kind too heavy for your shoulders
I could gladly take on the bulk of your revulsion, but I

I can't handle seeing your heart twist in pain on account of another person

Perhaps I easily notice things about you that you try to hide so hard
And I take the matters of fixing you into my hands
Pardon my nonchalant obtrusion ,I just care for you
Too much to let you
Fall apart

So here are some bare truths served without sugar

For now I will allude that he walked away
Because he only wanted your fortune to sway
That stealing your heart was a voracious prelude
And that I'm sorry for breaking it out to you thus
How you happened to waste your time on the wrong beau

You were just too flattered you thought it a destined encounter

You flew on wings of feather and you believed in earnest that you could never
Feel this way again with another
Because you think you are not lovable like that
Because you think you have too many a faults that inspire disgust at the thought
Faults that would halt and drive your potential lovers away

Faults that stop as a bouncer at the doors to your empire

There are things that one cannot say out loud
And the rest of this speech I won't regret swallowing
For I know the minute they part with my lips
I shall spend the rest my life wallowing in guilt

But If I was a man I would have loved you like that
Not despite of, but for all your flaws and your coy ingenuity
I would've wanted to stay, no matter how gay that sounds

Don't you ever let your hate for your flaws makes you think you don't deserve any better

Patience, one broken thing to fix at a time, darling