Mine Deep

Words Leave Color Stains

[wordstainedcanvas-blog]

Strange God

It is a strange god indeed Blue skies of hope rain on me today Cold winds on arid plains Of my heart

It is a strange god indeed Stormy winds pull down the leaves Scatter the spring, it’s autumn In my heart

It is a strange god indeed My veils shake loose Turn upside down, break loose From my heart

It is a strange god indeed The rain washes clean Blossoms bud In my heart

It is a strange god indeed Blue skies of hope Rain on me Today, my heart stands free.

[wordstainedcanvas-blog]

The Sun

I tried to write down the glory of the Sun, Tried to get him to blaze on the pages of my diary, Tried to get him to bleed beauty on my page with words. I wrote him down onto the diary of my heart In the morning When the haze of the night wore off My heart was all ashes. I tried to hold down the Sun with my words And my words too were ashes in my mouth.

[wordstainedcanvas-blog]

The Girl Inside

I watch The smoke Veil the world And I feel her Stir inside Her claws sink in And the light in My Soul Is all Smoke She comes alive In these dark places Of forgetfulness Of lust and love And secret longings Hushed conversations And loud laughter Momentary pleasures And lasting regrets Every single time A little stronger She grows Towers above Inside the dark spaces Of my heart and soul She is me If darkness could be light And light, darkness The battle is endless She wins I lose She loses I still lose The embers glow In the evening light A dying sun's Farewell colours And I still fight I still fight .

[wordstainedcanvas-blog]

The Rusted Blade

I painted my nails

A bright blood red

Draining away ever so slowly

A picture of mental angst

Dripping away 

Blip by blip

And my eyes are black hollows

Yet the red stops me overtime 

From taking that rusting blade

And adding a new scar

And a new jacket to my wardrobe

To hide those trophies of mine

Don’t ask me why I feel

This irresistible urge to see blood drip

It is just a mental picture of 

The angst of living dripping away

It feels like pain

It smells like iron and salt

Like the tanginess of a sea wave

The chill of ice 

A serpent unwinding

Red and glistening

Soft and seductive

Bright red living blood

The rusted blade

My shaking fingers

My closed room

My hair over my eyes

As i bend down

The green of my veins

And i stop there

Frozen in time

The last final step

The setting of the edge

The feel of a cut

I stop there every time

And I am proud

Hold myself close

Keep it back

I feel a little whole 

A little more alive

Existence felt real

[books-n-quotes]

…Her wings are cut and then she is blamed for not knowing how to fly.

Simone de Beauvoir, The Second Sex (via books-n-quotes)

[wordstainedcanvas-blog]

Absence I have scarcely left you  When you go in me, crystalline,  Or trembling,  Or uneasy, wounded by me  Or overwhelmed with love, as  when your eyes  Close upon the gift of life  That without cease I give you.  My love,  We have found each other  Thirsty and we have  Drunk up all the water and the  Blood,  We found each other  Hungry  And we bit each other  As fire bites,  Leaving wounds in us.  But wait for me,  Keep for me your sweetness.  I will give you too  A rose.

Pablo Neruda

[wordstainedcanvas-blog]

Train On Schedule

I have never seen anyone as determined as my Grandfather for sticking to a routine. He would get up at a particular time, have coffee at a particular time, read the newspaper for a particular time and so on. Everything was meticulously done from the way he would make his bed, the arrangement of his books on the shelf and yes, most importantly, his daily dairy writing. So far, there are more than 35 diaries that contain within their pages his life from the time he was 21. He is 96 now. Though we learn about the suddenness and the inevitability of death, we somehow never seem to be able to apply these rules to our near and dear ones. The first time I believed my grand father was slipping away into the void, slowly but steadily, was the time he stopped writing. His hand was no longer steady and he could absolutely not see the letters on the page. It is extremely painful to see someone who has lived with a fierce purposefulness their entire lives, suddenly take to sitting vacant on an arm chair for hours. I would get a jittery feeling looking at his vacant expression and try to engage him in conversation but the threads of his thoughts had become too frayed to be stitched into meaningfulness. Just today morning, I walked up to him and announced that I’m leaving for office. He usually would just smile and ask me to come home before it gets dark. But today, he held my hand for long time and said take care. I walked out of my house with tears because the take care sounded too much like goodbye. This despair has darkened my afternoon until I realised there was nothing to about it except just accept the inevitable. It is 12 30 pm, the time he would put down the newspaper and ask to be served lunch. I can hear the sound of a train chugging not far off. The wheels are turning slowly and the train could leave the station anytime. All that will be left is a rush of emptiness and smoke in the air. But I imagine this train has new worlds to travel to. It has been such a comfortable and loving journey with this train that it is a little difficult to let it go. Many are the passengers who have been lead in the right direction by following this train. When the time comes for the train to leave the station one last time, I hope to be able to stand there with a smile on my face and bid adieu without any bitterness clouding my face.

[wordstainedcanvas-blog]

Balloons in the Wind

Have you seen the little girl next door? Have you seen her little braids Little wisps flying in the wind As she swung herself on the swing So carefree, so light So unperturbed by the heights

Have you seen the little boy next door? Have you seen his flat tire? Rolling on the sand Guided by the stick So playful, so bright So fleet and so light

Have you heard their voices? Their laughter in the night? Now listen to their silence It stretches across this country From tip to the toe The snows to the sea

Have you held a little hand in yours? So tight is their grip So strong is their assurance Have you tried letting go? Have you tried telling a child That you don’t care?

Have you thrown a child high in the air? Their little arms raised to the sky Their eyes looking into yours They laugh as they fall down They are so sure of landing safe In the hollow of your arms

Have you blown a balloon? So pretty is the colour So fragile its resilience So easily blown to bits Have you flinched when it burst? The sound echoing in your ears?

Balloons and colours are a child’s play All the more reason to remember that They easily fade away Or with a single scratch are lost Unless held strong and safe And given a chance to bloom

[wordstainedcanvas-blog]

Vaccine

Did you know vaccines contain the very germs in a weakened state, you want to become immune to? I think you were my vaccine for love.

[wordstainedcanvas-blog]

Pls

Me when I am tired of life : Will somebody else please take over authorship? I am writing wrong characters into my life.

[wordstainedcanvas-blog]

Home

You took me in I was still wild Bristly and cold to touch You reduced the fire Made me glow embers instead You made me relax Learn to trust

You took me in Made another person out of me I became like anybody else Searching for happiness So chained to normality So caged by society

Then you decided You have done your bit Took the challenge Boosted the ego Felt charitable Time you thought, To let me go again

You clipped my wings You tamed my spirit You made me like a cage All bars and emptiness Now you felt I am safe Asked me to learn to fly again After making me forget how to.

[wordstainedcanvas-blog]

F' rends

They are all about alleviating boredom when they text. Only theirs. Mine doesn't count.

[wordstainedcanvas-blog]

Many selves

Don't ask me who I was yesterday. Don't ask me who I am going to be today. Don't ask me who I am going to become tomorrow. They are three different people and they are all me. I don't limit my selves. The only time they all connect is when I write.

[wordstainedcanvas-blog]

Only later did I realise that I had loved you the way I should have loved myself. The bits and pieces of you that you gave me were whole universes to me.

And now when you decided to try something new, I turned back to Me.

It didn’t hurt to return home after after an adventure and I love myself more for loving you.

[wordstainedcanvas-blog]

When I Read

When I read

You see

A girl with a book

Curled like cat

Still and stagnant

When I read

There are dragons flying above my head

A three tailed cat

Washing its wings

By my side

When I read

You see

Screwed up eyes

Pursed mouth

And my nails spitted out

When I read

I battle a goblin

I die due to a curse

I fly on a broomstick

Or I eat pickled geese

When I read

You see

Nothing

I live a thousand lives

When you have 

Just one

[wordstainedcanvas-blog]

Flamingos

Flamingoes fly

In a daze of a pink sky 

Watered down blood

Diluted reds

Black ink stained wings

Here I am

Grey scudding clouds

Moods Flash past

And rain on me

They fly on

Imprisoned

Life is walls

Scratch scratch

Finger Mice

Dust Motes Float

In The Pink Sky

They Flap by

The sound haunts my Dreams

Im Awake

In a Nightmare

In Prison Walls

Of Stereotypes and Genders

His’s and Hers

Green is Money

Red is Blood

They mix a Nasty Yellow 

Here I am

In the Rains

Of Moods and Pink Flamingoed Skies

Of Diluted reds 

and 

Vomit Yellow Walls

[hplyrikz]

Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worst kind of suffering.

Paulo Coelho, By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept (via hplyrikz)