The Library

we are wordsmiths, we are silver-tongued

[phyrrus]

How easy would it be? To just let you heart shatter into pieces The physical representation of your life as it is A breathtaking picture of a gory mess  Highlighting the gold of sinew and blood red Feel it, taste it, savour the absolute necessity To go from caring to its very antithesis You crave the ability to breeze through life wholly indifferent  (Such is empathy, such is vulnerability)   Shackled to your abusers with your wings clipped Quick to morose, slow to defend (Quickly now) Rid yourself of anything soft and malleable The soft underbelly claws can dig into  Torn asunder as you observe in absolute horror Such is the outcome of your flagrant docility How easy would it be? If you could stare dead into their faces Spit into their eyes and mouths and claim it a blessing  God be with you, my fair lass Go with God or your Idol, heathen Blessed be your life eternal Claim it a show of gratitude to their confusion A gift, undeserved but freely given Watch their faces bloom in unfiltered delight  (Violent thoughts beget violent delights) Relieve them of their tongues and eyes (Become invisible to their disdain and condescension) Be judicious with your violence, their punishment (The gift that keeps on giving) Relieve them of their senses so no stimuli can irritate them (Such is consequence, such is the most favourable outcome) Stare dead into their unseeing eyes (And ask) Isn’t life blissful now that you have fixed it?

"My Violent Delights" by Sofi Saeed

[poignantwriters]

Your holy scripture,  The guiding words, Absorb it well,  Read it true, Have it cleanse your mind,  And purify your heart, Look not upon your six, Let the devil lead you not astray, Winding down a brambled path, Be not tempted by the moss covered ground, The softness under your feet, Let your mind not be muddled by the flora, A true vision in a rainbow of colours, The scent of something holy, A virtue in this economy, Pay attention with every blink, See the bloodshed that surrounds you, Scripted as something of a necessity,  Be not swayed by the frivolous splendour, Pay attention! To the open wounds, The cuts that linger on your skin, Forever seeping, Unhealed and rotting, The gore that smells like roses and ozone,  A deep breath, You have a question? Anticipate the answer from your universe, Remember! It is not the stars that beckon, But a great beast, This big sphere of dust, water and shit, Your mightiest test, A God who has blessed you aplenty, With a home, hearth and God-fearing children,  You still need more,  How much more do you need? Has your God cursed you with avarice? Is it greed or gluttony that you feel? Do not let the agents of chaos tempt you,  From the road of dirt and strife, Stray not unto an easier path,  For that leads to brimstone and fire, The path of eternal pain. Stay your course! Even as your orifices bleed, Even as you quiver with bone-rending pain, Under the burdensome weight of one struggle, After the other. Let it run its course, This mighty test... And at the end of the darkest tunnel, Be invited to sup on, An endless course of Heavenly delights.

"Scripture" by Sofi Saeed

[poignantwriters]

I miss those days  When I played in sunbeams  Floating like dust particles  Dancing in the sun Casting shadows on the street and the walls  Ethereal and sparking Imagining that I was a magical entity  Filled with happiness  Uncontainable Overflowing like champagne foam Dancing to my own tune  No care in the world And in my imagination I was a witch and you my familiar Beloved and warm like Wiccan crystals  Our random bursts of laughter Irrepressible  My happiness around you Like oxytocin in my blood Until everything and anything looked beautiful This high I never came out of  Heart bursting with love How I miss those days When I played with sunbeams  Running my hands through the light  I could feel them  With a cheeky wink like Sabrina I could bend them, no? How you laughed at my silliness  With love in your eyes  How I miss those days.

"Retrospection" by Sofi Saeed

[poignantwriters]

I attempted to carve myself a corner in your garden To enrich my life with some colour and vibrance Like a peacock shuddering his feathers Begging for your kind attention In my hubris, perhaps, I had conveniently forgotten That all colour began leeching out The very day I first met you Until the soil under my feet were dry and grey Until the air I breathed were dull Lifeless much like my soul In my arrogance, I had spurned basic comprehension Like a fool giving myself away Inch by inch, piece by piece Until all that remained were the atoms that you rejected Self recrimination and a mountain of hatred So away I go now, to find myself And perhaps in search of a little peace Permanence, and maybe a place to rest Away I go to the cold embrace of my ocean

"A happy marriage" by Sofi Saeed

[poignantwriters]

I look to you in my darkest hour Filled with rage and envy  Hoping to catch a glimpse Of a soul deemed worthy One Pure and protected Bright white and clean like the winter's snow Wishing With my entire being That this Shredded unclean thing of mine Can be wiped clear of the rot Of days old blood Mended whole  This blade that my soul was welded into To be of use For the protection of those not mine But those most undeserving Ungrateful. But when the rage of this sword eclipses the sun And blankets the Earth with soot, ash and fire Turns air into noxious poison and death Inevitable Would the snow be able to purify the dirt Or will it become one with the world Same as us Most unclean Like sludge and mud

“Inevitable turns” by Sofi Saeed

[poignantwriters]

There are choices we make in life, both good and bad. The choices either push you one or two steps forward, leaves you stationary or pushes you backwards. Think, Newton's laws of motion. That applies to life too. However, there are some choices, that don't feel like choices, for they almost feel coercive in nature, by the environment you were brought up in. Like take this girl, she has an absentee father who she worships, an absentee mother who she's indifferent to, a step mother who is cruel to her, and a plethora of aunts and uncles who reared her in their stead. They tell her to be good, to be kind, to be righteous, to smile, and most importantly be obedient. They say that her worth is tied to her beauty and her womb. They tell her that her purpose in life is to be a "good" wife and then a "good" mother. They tell her that the only way for her to go forward in life is to be tied to a "good" man - not kind necessarily, for kindness is superfluous. They fill her head to the point of over saturation until she defines her self worth with her husband's smiles, his laughs, his letters, and his words. Only, in contrast to her dreams and expectations, her life with her husband starts withering. His smiles are slow to come, his laughs turn mocking, his letters come once in a blue moon and his words trickle to a stop. And yet she loves him, or she convinces herself that she loves him. Because her path forward is tied entirely to him. Her self worth is defined by her waning beauty and her dysfunctional womb. His gaze starts roving and her confidence starts diminishing. His words become cutting and her self loathing pikes. In her desperation, she ignores his rancid breath and convinces herself that it smells like flowers instead. In her desperation she scripts his cruel hands into loving embraces. In her desperation she turns her bleeding raw core into arousal. Coercion? It is a husband's right - her path forward is tied to him. That desperation gifts her with two children. Only the two children are girls - and a part of her soul breaks down in grief, because she has brought into this world two innocent souls who will face the same cruelty as all women do. Will face the same coercive choices that all women do. Who will be weak and will need the protection of a man, the same way all women do. A part of her resents it. Resents her children that she created with her husband's X chromosome. However, she has no choice now. The only way through is forward. A step backwards means the grave, becoming stationary also means the grave, and the grave spells death for her two daughters. Her poor innocent daughters. But innocent they don't remain, meek they are not, fierce they become, rage they breathe. To her dismay, her daughters question her on her choices when she least expects it. After listening to her story, they say, 'Perhaps the grave would have been a better choice for us after all' and her heart breaks.

“Choices” by Sofi Saeed

[poignantwriters]

We are all born With a predestined purpose A tragic sense of discomfort Awash in the air we breathe Our dreams are prophetic They show us the shackles That enclose our limbs Binding them together Our wells turn into poison Our creativity ebbs It leaves us lifeless Like butterflies with scarred wings Do you see a path for us? When you envision our lives It seems so microscopic The dimensions you laid out Will you deny us? Deny our suffocation Can we demand freedom? Or is it death we should seek?

“Shackles” by Sofi Saeed

[poignantwriters]

They call me crazy When I am just blue They hate it when I am muted But the palette I prefer is too murky Sometimes too deep, Too dark, too threatening So I go by the masses And use the soft shades of rainy days To paint the background of this life Keeping in mind to remind them Of opaque bottomless waters The stormy seas on a thunderous day Like the eyes of their violent fathers And their co-dependent mothers The colours that bring about a sense One of sadness and helplessness Of loneliness and keen frustration Shades that make more apparent   That I am not where I'm supposed to be Not the life of the party, no, no! I'm meant more for the fringes Like a shy wallflower peeking in  Always peering in to the warmth Of this cumbersome noisy society I don’t hate it, it gives more security  I promise! It’s just existing in muted colours Soft fuzzy shades of grey and blue That bring to mind the existence of dreams Soft sleepy ones, making one lethargic Perhaps reminding you of lonely hearts Is preferable to being awake and judged By the likes of you.

‘My preferred palette’ by Sofi Saeed

[poignantwriters]

We are the forgetful The self-important and the righteous Selfishness written into our DNA Intricately wound into the fabrics of our soul Lovingly carved into the marrows of our bones Shining through the cracks of a Carefully constructed false personality It is a talent well-taught The act of balancing all this Good and evil on delicate scales It is a fraught process, this choosing To choose yourself or to choose others Do you help people even if it means harming yourself? When harming yourself means harming your loved ones Or do you harm others preemptively? To “protect” yourself… After all, isn’t that an act of Loving and caring, the most unselfish If so, is your choice a selfish one? Questions… questions…. Philosophy is not my greatest talent Having to think too deeply on one thing Exhausts one, bores one… It is as our leaders say Being wary of choices is of no use When all our choices lead to death, dirt and maggots Is it a choice at the end of the day? And not a path foretold and written to stone That feeling that rises unbidden up our chests To the throat like bile and gore Helplessness; is one best avoided It is best to cultivate a sense of self preservation after all Let them die, your leaders tell you Let it all perish, a quiet voice whispers Be ice cold and unfeeling, they tell you The only way through this, after all Is to create a shield of apathy And name it objectivity For death dogs our footsteps Hell beckons you, my dear, arms open.

‘Our path to eradication as mapped by you part II’ by Sofi Saeed

[poignantwriters]

Imagine there is a wall in front of us Solid steel and brick, ten foot thick Hard and unforgiving but Riddled with tiny cracks Why you notice is a mystery best left unsaid But I see you and recognise the thirst in your eyes  And an ominous bell rings in my head Warning me of the suffering ahead You poke your fingers in and wiggle Wriggle it until one brick comes loose I watch you grasp it and pull With unfiltered happiness of one fulfilled I watch you calculate the angles The infinite numbers in your overactive coked up brain Use the knowledge from your education Festering beneath a layer of chemicals That you and I cannot name You slowly, but carefully pull the bricks out, One by one In patterns and weaves that make sense only to you Perhaps because to you, this is a game And not a matter of life and death Unbeknownst to you and me You have provided our enemies with the very thing The key to the temple of Damascus The way through the walls that have kept them out For the past unknown thousands of years And what else could I do but watch? Watch it all with bated breath, With the ominous ringing in my ears Growing louder and louder Until my very breath deafens me and I stop I just stop It is only when they break in that you realise Just what is at stake. And suddenly, All the bemoaning that you did While living in decadence and sin Brimming and overflowing with all that you could need All you could want All, except for your freedom, just seems so silly Doesn't it? Had you known, that your freedom would come at a price Of the safety and lives of your loved ones Would you still have taken this path? When I see you hesitate to answer I realise with a sinking heart The answer would always be, an irrevocable Yes

‘Our path to eradication as mapped by you part I’ by Sofi Saeed

[poignantwriters]

A quick intake of breath and hold Feels like asphyxiation  A forbidden temptation Led into a spiral of darkness Drown in air that cannot be absorbed Did you just initiate something That you can’t control? I clutch at my chest, And scratch with my nails, Gouging And yet you turn the key on Heedless of my warnings Ignite the mechanism for your own self destruction Like an utter fool. Don’t say that I didn’t warn you My heart, it pumps aggression and spite With the want of consuming you Destroying you, until you are nothing Your future is a mass of fragmented atoms Meaningless and trembling Are you holding your breath now? I peek and watch For a sign of realisation Laser focused and full of judgement I can see how it affects you My attention.  Muscles straining and eyes all pupil I look, narrowed eyes smouldering Lips parted and wet with spit Liquid gold dripping down like pearls Do I tempt you like this? This shapely forbidden fruit Delivered to you on a platter of poison Ready for consumption and instant death I am spite, anger and madness And in spite of all my warnings Your need stretches out, grasping Mould my body around this great want you carry Such a selfish, greedy man. Is my clutch the pleasure you really sought? In it, I feel the first of your deaths Heart stopping and vision gone white Carved into deep where I cannot reach Shoved so far in before you dissolve Foam thin, formless and shapeless It dissipates, just like the whole of you And I see it finally hit you The unchangeable conclusion I see it in the whites of your eyes When you unequivocally catch on Your final death, inevitable.

Warning Signs by Sofi Saeed

[poignantwriters]

My interest in playing with you Your “tricky” little mind games, Thickens and wanes like the, Cycle of a trusty moon… It may, make me seem like a Cheap version of the mighty Artemis, All damaged, boring and aloof Like a chipped moon goddess, Not even a capable huntress Unworthy of your precious time… but I… I never really asked for it, did I? Never in the first place… So why do you insist on pushing? Shoving your way in to places Where you are clearly unwanted Not that any sane woman would deny you Of course, my good man! But I’m not all there, am I? So why do you insist that I smile Upon seeing you glowing visage? When you know I’m incapable of it… When I am clearly unworthy of it… When all I want to do is go home And sleep the night away Like the boring ol’ moon goddess As you said, I am… Not even capable of being A good huntress… worthy of you Your time and coveted attention I’m more wallflower than ferocious tiger Shrinking violet kinda girl Blossoming away from your calculating gaze Best buy date already gone past A millennia away Trust me when I say this… I’m a broken moon goddess Not even worthy of your attention Not even a capable huntress Not even deserving of the title ‘goddess’ Trust me, I’m best left alone

The self-actualised moon goddess by Sofi Saeed

[poignantwriters]

It’s a struggle, this concept of happiness. maintaining the highs when you are at your lows it feels like a constant fight trying to smile with your eyes imagine, wading in a pool of unforgiving ember being pulled into a sinkhole gravity working against the mass of your body the force of it pulling, and pulling the power of a supermassive blackhole working against your being despite you trying despite you kicking but then, when you drown it goes quiet and there is a peace precious in its fragility you cup it in your hands and hold still so still because for the first time in days, in months you feel a modicum of joy like a flower slowly unfurling inside your heart you take a breath of fresh air because now it’s allowed after being consumed in a cloud of smog you can finally breathe.  you gasp! and voila, there is clarity. in the quiet of this shadowed dark because in that moment your sadness is put on hold you can stop piling black thoughts upon black you're distracted imagine! a sense of permanence quietly lingering in a forever silence until, you are pushed out against your will and the chug of life begins anew the descent into the blue starts once more and you keep wishing for yellow but the blues just turn to greens and you wish for shadowed corners to swallow you whole for the blinking lights to embrace you like the stars that have fallen before you to the quiet of this shadowed dark. in time you will tell them don’t miss me too much when I am gone.

‘in the quiet of this shadowed dark’ by Sofi Saeed

[poignantwriters]

Someone give me something A task to soothe my mind Clear the clutter away I compartmentalise everything But the drawers are all wrong Files are haphazardly organised And I panic as I descend Into the darkest corners of my mind I need a Marie Kondo to do her thing Tell me where to put my demons Do I need to call a Constantine?  Exorcise the ghosts of my forgotten past My past is the past is the past Barricade the unforgivable memories Behind a six feet alloy and concrete wall But my demons are like kaijus Category five and heading to Mount Fuji Blow my life apart in a volley Of ice, fire and Kaiju blue My brain is my biggest enemy My thoughts like poison I die clawing at the clutter Come watch me drown.

‘Ice, fire and kaiju blue’ by Sofi Saeed

[poignantwriters]

My sadness is a progressing sound A note that keeps building   Like dreaded anticipation Somedays it crests the mountain top And I drown in muted colours My aura washed thin Until its thready and weak like sunlight on a dreary day The hues dull blues and greys Some days just don’t bear repeating I live, for the sake of living But my joy is weak and capricious   Two faced, like a double edged sword Some days, this life doesn’t bear living But I do it anyway, for the sake of you.

‘on a sad note’ by Sofi Saeed

[poignantwriters]

Is being directionless, the same as being lost? the ebbing and flowing of time, the fast pace of it, makes me stumble and oddly breathless I feel the need to run and jump higher, faster and stronger clutching at the end of a rope fraying and unraveling as I watch the panic clutches tight within my throat this anxiety, its like a rock that I cannot swallow I grasp and clutch and claw but like the sands of time it keeps slipping from me faster, the tighter I try to hold where do I go from here? do I go west or do I go south? would east be better? would north be kinder? no matter where I look its planes and planes of grey its a purgatory no sand dunes or suns rays to mark the way not a single oasis to tide the way Is being directionless, the same as being lost? or is this just the passing of time wrecking havoc?

“Directionless and lost” by Sofi Saeed

[poignantwriters]

my mother once said to me hear me when I say to you fear not the forces of the light for the Angels may judge you by your actions and thoughts hold them against you but they will always judge you true humans were made to be imperfect to stumble and fall to pieces to love for all the wrong reasons and hate the same fear not, my love, the forces of the light for while my heart beats consistent I will pray for your soul's safety, pious

“Forces, Part II” by Sofi Saeed