Val's valley

A random art blog

[mellowvalleymist]

Roses in December

Roses in December, a rare sight

An occurrence once in a blue moon

For if a rose can bloom at the end of the year

At the end of ones life one as well might

The rose - an overrated flower

As is the idea of achievement

For achievement comes in many forms

Each carrying their own significance

As I write, I think, why roses?

A symbol, a stereotype, a status

An overglorified gift flower for the achiever

directing its thorns at whoever opposes

Instead of roses, why not lilies?

Those delicate, pure petals

displaying humility even after years of devotion

Devotion to life and striving through its melancholies

It's 1am thoughs, I suppose

that make me question roses

It's not their fault they're linked to greatness

just like the ideas of achievements imposed

Roses in December, a rare sight

Not everyone can witness

And hence society's pressured into watering plants

And hence being remembered is overglorified

So now that we've discussed

what makes a rose so special

can we ponder why winter, end of year,

is compared to the time before biting the dust?

Depressing image, winter days

Everything's stagnant, frozen stiff

Symbolizing death is too harsh as it has beauty

And tho things faded, the main structure stays

But it doesn't have to be so

Not the best, but not waste

If not the roses, the snow itself

The snow holds sculptures, footprints, plants for spring

Let me retreat into the comfort of fog without haste

And each snowflake is unique too

Different patterns, paths taken

Falling to earth, I know the ground is nourished

and my existence came out of the blue, into the blue.

[mellowvalleymist]

Sometimes, I do

I read a book, I draw a line.

I watch some shows, I waste some time.

Scroll on my feed, refresh the page.

Then suddenly, I feel so caged.

Sometimes, I do.

Isn't this the time to feel alive?

On the brink of adulthood we stand.

For how long should lie?

Can someone make them understand?

Tell my parents I'm am normal.

Tell my friend I want to hold her.

I fill my head with useless things.

I shouldn't care what someone thinks.

But sometimes, I do.

Isn't this the time to spread our wings?

Time for romance, when hearts sing.

Time of laughter, parties, flings.

Building skills, seeing what life brings.

Why can't I enjoy those things?

But sometimes, I do.

[mellowvalleymist]

For my "best friend"

I hope you drown in guilt

just as I am drowning in it.

The guilt of trusting you.

Afterall, I've seen it.

The smile on your face and the panic in your eyes.

If I didn't already know, would I see otherwise?

So I take a step behind

and overthink myself to sleep.

Overthink about us

and the friendship we keep.

I wonder if I can overlook the lie

and justify the action taken on the sly.

Honestly, it overwhelms me.

Didn't think my judgment fails me.

But I think it did

and I paid the fee.

So you can keep on dragging mud

on the carpet to the doorway of my heart.

Cause I hid away the key.

[mellowvalleymist]

Well hello there, dysphoria

Why do I pretend that this is fine?

All these decorations, laughter, waste of time.

Writing rhyme after rhyme in silly lines,

Whilst something binds me, confines me.

Breathless, weightless, aimless spirit

in a body of expectations, dictations -

foundation upon foundation of society rules and regulations.

So I laugh a bit, a bit too much.

Waste an hour or two with stuff to do.

Stuff to do? What can I do?

And days pass and pass and finally I succumb.

If femininity's so strong why do I feel weak

when I cry so much I can not speak?

Speak of this endless loop of self assurance.

Exercise, art, poetry, physical and social endurance.

Oh,

A bird chirped at my windowsill,

and I can pretend that time stood still,

but my plants bloom, I hurt, the sky is gray.

I pray - Gloom, wash away by this rain.

[mellowvalleymist]

So in class we had to write a short story using movie names...

My life is like the movie Alien but the gruesome gore is acne on my face. Extra Terrestrial Series of Unfortunate Events occurred that make me want to Scream. It's a never ending Nightmare on Elm Street and I feel as if I'm the protagonist of Inception 'cause I just can't wake up. Every day my migraine resembles clashing of Thor's hammer but instead of Thor Ragnarok it became Bore Ragnarok. The Hangover is a way of life when every living moment brings me closer to Final Destination. Cinderella without prince Charming, Sleeping Beauty without the beauty, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory but without the chocolate and I'm the Oompa Loompa, Dumb and Dumber but I'm the beheaded bird. Poly wants a cracker? Feed me a cracker in my Pursuit of Happyness.

Eh, my life is not that bad, I'm just a Liar.... Liar.

[mellowvalleymist]

Summer bygones

Scent of summer is in the air, sea salt on our skin.

Palms placed on the bench barely an inch apart, we're watching the ending of the day in third person perspective.

Your hair slightly swaying in the breeze cover your flustered complexion.

The waves wiped out our wishes long ago, the sand is a blank slate to newer possibilities.

Remember how as kids we used to laugh at couples by the seaside? What can you do.

Maybe it's the summer magic, the spell of heat, or maybe I'm enthralled by your smile.

The holidays won't last forever and not seeing you daily will be the norm. I will cry.

Together we shall complete this song of seasons passing - sing it while we have the chance.

Your eyes focus on pedestrians, as if to occupy your racing mind. Unsteady heartbeats, damp foreheads, I become a little distant, it's the tension.

Where are the easy going, comfortable silences?

The moon and the sun dominate the entire sky, the ocean merges with the horizon.

Before summer ends and autumn begins, let's imprint this moment in our minds.

[celestesdomain]

What’s the point?

Alone on my bed,

again I sit.

Pondering my worth,

and all its meant.

What’s the point

of trying?

When all it offers

are broken dreams

and pieces of your hope

shattered all around you?

I have tried for so long.

I keep on trying.

I keep on hoping.

I keep on dreaming.

And yet in the end,

I achieve nothing.

So I ask,

What’s the point of trying?

Give up,

I am nearly there.

I’m still clinging,

stubborn bitch that I am.

But I’ll get there,

it’s only a matter of time.

After all, what’s the point?

Of dreaming and of hoping,

when all it leaves are lies

and a gaping maw unto your heart?

So I ask again,

What’s the point of trying?

[mellowvalleymist]

The point of trying, that is, in my case,

Is so I can see your beautiful face.

And no matter what challenge,

Or how long is the race,

That single chance I ought to chase.

When I feel down, that thought I embrace.

You and I and a faraway place.

So if there is hope, in distant yonder,

We'll meet again, is what I desperately wonder.

[mellowvalleymist]

To go back in time, is what my soul seeks.

To go back in time, of rose coloured cheeks.

But time doesn't stop, it waits for no one.

Never turns back, only moves forward.

And so should I.

[mellowvalleymist]

Birthday blues

Twenty candles on the cake,

gotta add one more.

Happiness is hard to fake

when tears hit the floor.

And hit the floor they do,

my friends they take the stage.

"Why do you feel blue?

Cheer up, act your age."

But birthdays are just days for me,

normal as can be.

Another year, a clear page

opportunities are endless.

So why do I fear to age

and birthdays leave me breathless.

Some friends give me stress,

some friends understand.

If I switch off my phone,

I have the upper hand.

Hence birthdays are just days for me,

normal as can be.

So what I mean is,

don't pressurize me

to celebrate aging,

just be nice to me.

[animals-lovers]

(Source)

[mellowvalleymist]

SCREAMING. Look it's the second type of pussy I'd love to pet.

[mellowvalleymist]

What worried me at 12am

It's 12 am thoughts I suppose,

but years pass and never pause.

Just yesterday I was fourteen and wondered if it'll get any worse, and I suppose, it will.

But I'll never be fourteen, and

it all now seems a dream, and

I'm older than I've ever been.

I suppose I'm thinking gibberish,

blame midnight for this rubbish.

Lying in bed I'm wide awake and then my heart, my mind just leap - and for what sake?

I realize I'll never be fourteen, and

I'll never know how it did feel.

Oh, God! I'm older than I've ever been.

And then? I'm 30, 40, 50, death.

Inevitability of flowing time.

Life is too fast, but that life's mine.

So much to do, can't always rhyme.

But what do I do?

I go back to bed.

[mellowvalleymist]

Inspiration through procrastination

(When you write poetry instead of studying)

I lift it up, I put it down,

I opened it, I closed it shut.

Those books of "knowledge" handed out by less bothered teachers.

What knowledge? You just have to pass.

I will pass. Passed for the past 20 years. Passed with fear through heavy tears, anything may come, but I shall pass.

And then what?

Repetition, repetition, repetition.

Institution after institution for tuition, with fee so high just for ppt submission.

I ain't scared, you think I'm scared?

Scared for the future that could be?

For path we make is path we take but what am I making? Breath is shaky, will is breaking. Suffocating, palpitating.

You think I'm scared? I ain't scared.

For what if all I do is in vain, nothing to achieve so what's to gain?

Drinking hot tea by the hour, pretending everything is ours to take - but was it ours in the first place to take? Fate in our own hands? What a mistake.

Children we come, children we go, so unrecognizable thought, prancing as adults all around the place, but that place is just a spot. And on that spot? We rot.

So when you ask if I am scared, I ain't scared,

I'm terrified.

For all such reasons, as I see, that "knowledge" that's fed into me, fades.

And all that remains is the unseen.

Until we see it, we march on, into our fates, into unknown.