Hamlet, Act 3 Scene 3 [OG comic interpretation]
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Hamlet, Act 3 Scene 3 [OG comic interpretation]
.
.
My vision's clouded,
My mind is crowded,
I've been trapped in a corner.
No matter how loud I shouted
No one can hear,
No one is near.
And I fend for my sanity
As the rest of my hope is gasping for air.
.
https://www.instagram.com/p/B2A4ATQhJPF/?igshid=n2ervurowzns
AS ONE.
You say, “Go back to your country.” But here’s your contradiction. You sit under that blazing sun To reach my complexion. You call it a “third-eye,” But when you wear it, it’s a bindhi. You sing “Jai Ho,” By the way, you know that’s Hindi? Wait, there’s more. You make fun of how he speaks, But you then tattoo the characters of his Language later that week. Say what? Is that hair difficult for you? But now his cornrows are your “box braids” And as fashion it passes through? She covers her head, So she must be hiding a weapon. But nuns do the same, So is that religion or just deception? Okay, okay - I ain’t placing all the blame. The media outlets elsewhere Wanna do the same. They wanna “copy” Hollywood When they create their films. Or is that artistic inspiration? Think of it what you will. We all learn to take, But we forget to give, To recognize and share, And to be cooperative. Sure, we follow different visions. And sure, we occupy a different space, But let us not forget one big thing, That is to work together as one As the human race.
- Thiviya
Do you see what I see? A twisted city - deceivingly stable, but flooded with anxiety and the consumption of social uncertainty.
Robotic faces with like-minded expressions merge into one as I watch from the sidelines, from where our paths diverge.
This beauty envelops the superficial, continuing its life as immortal from the destruction of the natural.
Cold Heart
The lights dim into the horizon as I slowly begin to feel numb in this cold and ice surrounding me, waiting for what may never come.
The safeness has disintegrated into the crystals of the hearts that were one, which I have shattered just as my world trickle apart.
This heavy weight will never leave while the presence of warmth is frozen and I wait for the warmth to return to bring the fire in which it arose in
I weep and weep these ice cold tears as emotions slow down this soul because this heart that was once beating will truly never be whole.
Wilting Hearts.
You may have every basic necessity, the love of family and friends, growth towards a purpose; yet you come home heavy-hearted.
You open your eyes to sunlight; but everyday, the warmth seems further away. Your soul continues to grow colder, and you don’t recall when it started.
Thorns of agony puncture wounds, releasing your heart of life; your colour drains. Although weakened, you still stand.
Each night you feel the loneliness; you’re stranded in silence, darkness expanding. The illusion remains that the wilting of your heart will drain you; but her abandoned soul reaches for your hand...
Let Me Sleep.
I’m choking. Every inch of my will Broken. Gravity has me down. This heat in my head set ablaze to my chest. Between the sheets, I’m hiding. Not riding the waves of serenity. Let me sleep.
The exhaustion from this heat Of society My beats are accelerating impossibly. The anxiety. Make it stop - the memories and The voices setting fires to my mind. Are there no remedies?
Am I this never-ending disease?
Let me sleep.
Inhale. The smoke surrounding me. Inhale. It’s the illusion that I claim I will prevail. I tip the scale For your delusion.
Poof.
Your intrusion set a firewall, Unwelcomed.
Let me sleep.
The firewall is distressing. Building, growing. The somberness possesses me. Burn the key. My sheets are ablazed.
Hazy. Every inch of my will; Time is still.
Broken. I’m choking.
Ya Feel?
If you have an important question to ask about me, you ask me that is, if you're gutsy.
None of that third-party bullshit and don't just assume "it." It ain't smart, you lack wit for talkin' smack that ain't legit.
We don't talk about your folks And how much your girl smokes. Keep talkin' and you will provoke the monster that will destroy your foundation because, simply, Y'all a joke. Sure, you can judge by my pictures of liquor; last week's stripper; the kiss I gave to that miss or mister with an Instagram filter, and the shit I post on Twitter.
But really, most importantly, and I say this from my heart out of goodness, forgive me for my rudness, but just mind your own damn business.
You'll be happier. Ya feel me?
Trekking Through the Future of Tranquility
My vision of the future is defective, so I got a telescope as my camera lens for a fresh perspective. Click. Snap. I see the distance clearly, things that were once hiding. Or where they always there, like our subconscious that only reveals itself under intoxication or slumber? I wonder.
I don't consume enough words; my creativity is sliding. I mindlessly settle into the eruption of the city, searching for the inspiration; reminding me of the previous frustrations with the flirtation of words and imagery; no filtration.
Just flow. Let the v i b r a t i o n touch the soul as you lose control...
Like music from the bass reaching your feet, and as they meet, you dance; like the words shimmying off your tongue; like the ink whirling onto your sheet.
Don't miss a beat. You become reacquainted at the enchanting visuals you've captured and painted onto that empty paper, and you open the doors to a future of tranquility; These fresh perspectives become inscriptions; these inscriptions are the emotions' release, and the emotions grow to mold your creativity.
Perspective.
Sitting around like everyone else, I struggle for words. I find that borrowing some famous words would be okay, if I quoted, they don't mind; because a story is only copied when written line-by-line, but a story with a twist is always one-of-a-kind, like you and me. We are copies of our mother, father, sister and brother, but we have all these uniqe features that make us different from each other, we are unique. This is art. We are art. And it is art like us that create our own story, whether it rhymes or follows beats, verses, goes in some chronological order - it's a story. That's what it is. Like this poem. See, my poems are all about my life; the darkness within, sometimes the light, right? We all have our troubles to write on, our fantasies to thrive on, when bad emotions are all gone. Gone? Are they really gone? I hope not, because with these mixtures of bad and good vibes, sharing it to the world is key. Can you see how much you share to an audience and hey share back to you, spreading vibes everywhere, to every soul, daily. Isn't that a goal? Each time you speak these heartfelt rhymes you've been writing from that time when you had - your first heart break - your first child - all the love you have - all the sadness building within you; Ain't that wild? All the forms of expression one can use to tell the world, "This is my life!" When you free your mind and create more spaces to find a better you. An open mind. You are not only letting your lungs breathe, but your mind breathe, Your eyes see all these unique forms of artistry made from pencils, pens, colours, beats, vocabulary. They look similar, but different, because they have a unique twist, a personality, a story,
like you and me.
Seasons of Memory.
Oh, how I miss those summer nights When we would walk together hand-in-hand; We would sit and laugh by the river Unaware that our love would expand. Oh, how I miss those autumn days When we would enjoy the pouring rain; We would hide, give up, and fight it Knowing we may have looked crazy, but we were sane. Oh, how I miss those winter mornings When we would sleep in until noon; I would hold on to all the warmth With sadness that I would be cold soon. Oh, how I miss the refreshing spring When we would look forward to the end of stress; We can spend more time together And put the bad memories to rest. But no matter which season I dislike or adore, I reminisce and look forward to create more.
What You Did.
I scraped my knee many times. I've cut myself, accident and purpose. But what you did hurt the most. I've been called a whore, a bitch, a slut. Some of my friends I thought I trusted talked bare shit behind my back. But what you did hurt the most. I was called "useless" by my mother. I was called "unwanted" by my father. But what you did hurt the most. I was neglected by many people. The one who noticed me put his hand between my thighs... against my will. One who I called a friend slipped his hand down my shirt when I was falling asleep. My own father, drunk, wanted to give me a "gift" and stripped the sheets away from my lower body. But what you did hurt the most. All my life, I trusted almost no one. All my life, I found myself to be alone. I feared closeness, but you came into my life, and nearly crushed me with your lies. Have you been in my shoes? Have you seen my life? Do you really understand the struggles I have experienced? I was buried under rocks and gravel and I'm still clawing my way out with my bare hands. I have scars that will never go away from trying to reach the light. I gave up many times thinking, "This is the end of my life." Yet I try and try again hoping, breathing, believing, seeing that there is something for me out there. Someone for me.
Someone to stand by my side and lift me up when I sink back into the gravel. As the gravel slowly falls through and I see the light a little more each time. There are those who forgive, others don't, yet it will never be forgotten. My perspective changed, a part of my heart still shattered, more of my mind skeptical, questioning your words, because of what you did.
Originally written: 03/30/13 Edited: 07/07/13
Streetlights.
Darkness envelops the streets Nearly stripping me of sight. I mindlessly walk, following the streetlight.
Turn right.
The guidance reassures my safety. Behind me, the silence threatens with hate.
Walk straight.
No where to go. No where to be. Nothing I want. There's nothing for me.
Right again.
Hope disappears. Emotions absent. Questions left unanswered
Another light, guiding me left.
I walk straight.
Rock Bottom
I’ve hit rock bottom, but I continue to climb In hopes this wretched world will reach the sublime. I grew. I grew with the soul do f a warrior who vanished overtime Until it was the strands of hair remained to burn. I climb. I saw. Betrayals of trust created, easily seen through the exposing glass Which shatter, rendering you to bleed the truth and pain. I climb. Don’t lie. I fight many battles, losses exceeding wins. Where lies my respect? Where lies my reason to squeeze your every being out of my world. So I can climb. I poison. Your guilty conscience must be fed with such poison As I poison my heart with the thought I will tear both our souls apart Shred it into pieces, letting blood water the soil and vanish. I cry. Because my world is unknown to have life that will fairly share its honesty And blood continues down the stream away from what was once alive. I’ve hit rock bottom, but I continue to climb In hopes this wretched world will reach the sublime. Yet this heavy weight beckons me to let go As my limbs grow numb, tired I suffer alone.
Will You Remember?
Will you remember me When our paths separate and we gain more knowledge in different locations? Will you remember me when you gain more outstanding friends?
Will you remember me When you’re successful and graduate Or study abroad? Will you remember how far the love extends?
Will you remember me When another bonds with you intimately Or you seal your life with another in a contract of love? Will you remember me when someone else occupies your mind everyday?
Will you remember me When you become busy with life; with a lover or a child? Will you remember how our hearts intertwined?
Will you remember me When you become severely stressed And you have no one else to talk to? Will you remember the joys we had as we danced in the rain?
Will you remember me And the times I came running when you dug a deep hole? Or if I’m enveloped with illnesses? Will you remember the times we shared our pain?
Will you remember me When you become famous Or welcome darkness with a broken heart? Will you remember me when your heart becomes cold?
Will you remember me When I thank you for my successes And your support? Will you remember the moments we shared when you grow old?
One morning, I awoke And hoped everyone will forget me When I vanish; no where to be found, When the sound of my voice is gone.
Yet, the experiences of love and support in this lifetime has taught the pain of being forgotten. But from success to illness, young to old, These beloved memories will carry on.
Will you remember those who made such an impact on your life?
- Thiviya.
Late Night Thoughts
I'm not always strong. To these emotions, I'm weak. Days of searching for answers; I found what I seek. It grasps me tight. What I feel ain't wrong. Heart pounds; Pressuring my chest. Failed attempts to sleep; My mind won't rest. Emotions surge through the body; I have only the best. So, if you want something, strive for it. Find the drive for it. Don't hide from it. Take pride in it and believe. What your heart feels is real. Don't deny it.
Silence.
Silence. It rings in my ears; I yank at my hair; No soul is around to show any care. The storming eyes; the terrored screams; doubled over with the pain clawing with no where to lean. The door is locked; you cannot enter; mind is closed tight and inside I surrender. A sharp sting; wrist is burning; a life-long sleep is what I've been yearning. Hate envelops the surroundings, making distance easy; fading away as I greet the lonely. Heavy eyelids; sheets of tears set; whispering my love with one last...