This One's Beyond Fancy Titles

This one's special.
Raw.
Unedited.
Uncomplicated.
This is me. Slobbered over a paper.
Here we go.
Hi there.
It is one 'o' clock at night and as I write this, I am surrounded by four walls, painted a soft, comfortable shade of white. Tinted by the glowing yellow lights on my bedside.
And. There is screaming inside my head. Why is there screaming inside my head? I don't know. I didn't ask for it. I never do, but it's always there. A hundred thoughts at once. Hundred, completely unrelated, conflicting thoughts. Maybe it's an artist thing. Maybe not.
Out of the two thousand thoughts that I'm evaded by, every day, one thousand nine hundred and ninety nine, are trash. But there's one thought, that's so beautiful, so magical, I could sculpt a masterpiece on it.
I'd like to believe that this is that thought, for today. So. Here. I begin.
Much too gladly, the thought propels me to elucidate my love for what I do. Is it even possible for me to express my love for literature and writing, in words? Of course it is. That's my job. Or is it?
All I've ever done, since the beginning of my writing career, is bury my thoughts under dazzling imagery, or metaphors, or whatever literary device you deem fancy. It's not like my poetry doesn't come from the heart.
IT IS ALL STRAIGHT FROM THE HEART. AND SOUL.
But filtered. Or shadowed. In an attempt to make it worthy of someone's time or opinion. Because writing, for me, has always been about reaching out, or introducing an unconventional ideology, or striking a chord. I've never written to 'express my feelings.' I've always been someone who'd probably walk away when asked how she's doing. I could never understand. Why is everyone so bothered about how I feel? Why isn't anyone bothered about what I think? Doesn't that make more sense? The minute you say 'think' you are automatically elevated to a new level of intellect. In my opinion.
Some people advise me to write from the heart so I may reap the best response. I do that.
Some advise me to write for others around me, so that they may understand it and appreciate it. I don't do that. Writing for someone else's appreciation would be the last thing I'd do.
Arre yeh toh jaan hai meri.
Yes. Hindi. You can't judge me.
Anymore, that is.
I changed my school. Here they don't have boards all over the place that prohibit one from speaking in any language other than English. (Yes, it's true. Carmel had boards that read, "THIS IS AN ENGLISH SPEAKING AREA. ANY OTHER LANGUAGE WILL NOT BE TOLERATED AND THOSE CAUGHT WILL BE HEAVILY PUNISHED." But then, it was my school. And now it seems lovely all the same.) Hindi, is beautiful, I discovered. People here know how to experiment well with it.Shaayar hain yahaan toh. I've always been a huge shayari fan.
I came across SUCH talented and wise people. Writers, most of them.
But after some of my experiences, I doubt if I should even call them that.
As the saying goes, "Art, as its finest, is nothing but deception."
Aren't writers supposed to be free, abstract and borderlessly brilliant?
Everyone here is just so analytical. And politcal. And gratified. And proud.
They aren't writers. No.
Writing must be treated as an art, not a science.
But this is just the grey side of the story. The white side is, that they're all good at their own thing. I'm fine as long as they don't compare a philosopher to a mathematician.
But. You never know what they're capable of.
Sometimes I feel like I don't do justice to my readers. All the time, in fact. I've never written as who I am. Nobody really knows the person who writes this, at this moment. I write as a woman of grace, a dignified woman with a seemingly impressive frame of thought. That's just a fraction of my mind, I'm really just a regular girl with an overactive imagination. So yes, I'm writing as myself. I've never felt so free. Probably because I never allowed myself to. All these thoughts pouring out. Wow. I'm glad I'm here. What a fantastic time to be alive, basking in the wonders of this art.
Khushkismat hote hain woh loge, jo apne aap ko kisi kalaa se jode paate hain. Apne aap par naaz nahin karte. Doosron ko naaz uthate dekh, andar he muskuraate hain. Kalaa koi bhi ho. There are writers, actors, musicians, artsists and all sorts of geniuses. Marvelous people. Sublime thinkers. But also, solitary beings.
Berukhi si zindagi mein, khud ko kho dete hain. Apne kaam ki ehmiyat nahin dekh paate. Magar yeh bhi nahin samajhte, ki jo kalaa se judah, woh khud se judah. Apne aap ko dhoondne nikli thi main, aur meri kalam ne mujhe dhoond liya.

Midnight Discoveries

Song inspired.
F&M. :']
Here we go.
I was looking for a trace of light,
Trying to find myself in the middle of the night,
But all the choirs in my head sang, "No, oh, no, no."
I fetched a shoebox of memories from under the bed,
Memories in moncohrome they had all been,
But all the choirs in my head sang, "No, oh, no, no."
Shaking the dust I found a stack of children's things;
A young mother's love and a mixtape about maleficent kings;
A hopeful daughter walking on freshly mown grass;
Hands dipped in the ocean, in an attempt to escape a deranged past.
And that's where the pain came in,
Like a second skeleton, trying to fit beneath the skin,
Because the choirs in my head sang, "No, oh, no, no."
But I had to defy the forces for I needed one more touch,
Another taste of devouring rush
So I sat and let the invasions collide,
Enter my head. Ten thousand people lined up from left to right.
I felt their footsteps tapping on my eyelids,
Saw their eyes glistening as countless farewells they bid.
A sky-blinding streak clawed my existence,
My hallucination witnessed a symphony of brilliance.
I read a verse nobody wrote,
A song nobody sung,
A portrait nobody made
And a prophecy nobody feared.
And this dream could've come alive again,
But I did open my eyes before the end,
And the room was so quiet, oh it was too quiet.
And the silence was almost suffocating,
All my time, I whiled it foolishly waiting,
For a possibility, perhaps a remnant of a forgotten tale,
When every second, particles of treasurous dust I inhale.
Caged by the nothingness of a shoebox, I was looking for a trace of light.
I found a glorious land in the middle of the night.
Yet the choirs in my head sang, "No, oh, no, no."

Perfect Symmetry

To Jini as she turns sixteen.
To friendship.

Perfect Symmetry
If I saw the world as a shadeless sea,
Black, white, greys, all over thee,
Then I'd wish I knew,
If I shine the same as you.
Then you'd mean more, mean more to me,
Than any colour I could see.

If the world sang to me, a silent song,
And I would never be able to sing along,
Then I'd wish I could hear the birds as they fly,
Like vibeless strings, in the sky.
Then you'd be more precious, you'd be rare,
Than any music, I could ever hear.

If I woke up on straw, and slept on streets,
And I would never be able to own, enough coloured sheets,
Then I'd wish I were a glorious star,
With cans, crowns and shiny cars,
You'd still mean more, mean more in turn,
Than any penny, I could ever earn.

So I guess, that's how it's going be.
If I have you and you have me,
The world shall be in perfect symmetry.


Eyes.

I wish someone wrote this for me. I wish everyone finds the love they ask for. I wish it happens to be this pure...

Eyes.
I see that rich, sparkling hazel, and I know it's your eyes. Never have I seen something so beautiful, that stuns me in a glance. But when I see that thing shining, then I know it's your eyes. The way those lashes send letters, to thy face, with every blink. Oh they leave the letters, for me to understand. And how they rest in silence, with all that goes around. They fail to see what's wrong, and shut in perfect timing. Oh they leave the wrong, for me to correct.
That heart melting look, when there's something you strongly desire, it can make a king go down on his knees, like a peasant. And when tears, like silent raindrops fall, it seems as though, the oceans collide, with all their might. I'd do everything  it takes, to cease them.
Your eyes are all I see in the world. They're my muse, for all I do. I close my eyes, and I see yours. They keep me going, all day, all night. Sometimes I'm gloomy, sometimes I'm numb. But when I see that rich, sparkling hazel, then I know it's your eyes. :)

Poison Dreams

Now this one, I can smile about. I hope you love it as much as I do. :']

Poison Dreams

Life, they said, "What a happy place to be."
The lie was believed, so they blamed it on me.
The ones I trusted, turned their back on me,
I was ditched by their smiles and their distance from reality.
All I have now, is this dark story of mine;
I was just another girl who wished to go far, who wished to shine.
It was that day, when I closed my eyes and a vision took over,
I saw a stage, bright lights and a crowd to pass over.
Since then, to make the vision come true, was all I wanted,
Little did I know, that it would turn into a tale, so haunted.
The vision made me struggle, it gave me pain;
I was nowhere close, it drove me insane.
It made me walk, it made me run, it made me travel;
But it all seemed in vain, as though I had nothing to unravel.
Soon I learnt, "Dreams poison life at a slow pace,
You greet tears with a smile, they greet you with mace."
One fine day, I got my call of fame,
I was all set, to sell records in my name.
They were a rage, like wild fire,
Life lured me, into going higher and higher.
I reached a point from where the truth was hidden,
Any kind of goodness was simply forbidden.
How about you answer this simple question of mine,
Before our mad world runs out of time;
What's the price of the light that makes you blind?
Ahead of the glamour, there's flash, but what's behind?
My senses were too numb to feel the loss,
I was feeding on the glitz that lied across...
My conscience was dead, I gave up thinking,
Days went by, in puffing smoke and hard core drinking.
There were voices I could hear.
They cut right through the chords of my ear.
They said, "You've lost. This battle cannot be won.
This is the life you deserve. You've come out undone."
I screamed but they never ceased,
No drug was good enough to free me from my strange disease.
Black chains had tied me up;
But in one way or the other, I had to get up.
My eyes sucked the pain,
I swallowed my tears and silenced the rain.
So I saw myself rise once more,
It wasn't the same this time, there was a mask that I wore.
Today where I am, isn't such a pretty place,
It has what I wanted, but not a single 'real' face.
People go on, telling their believable lies,
It's nothing, just a piece of hell, in disguise.

Doomed

Yeah, this is what happens when you have a Math Exam, in three hours. Not my usual stlye of writing. Not at all.

Doomed
Scream. Shout. Bleed. Out.
I'm living my life on the foundation of doubt.
Tears. Cries. Scars. Stress.
This whole damn thing is one big mess.

Leave. Go. Jump. Fly.
I'll do anything to escape and not give a try.

Burns. Cracks. Marks. Or a Curse.
This paper before me, deserves much worse.
Veins burst. Shadows run.
I look around, they killed the sun.

Light. Hope. Joy. Over.
They abandoned me in this crossover.
No this rhyme won't have a happy ending,
'Cause I've still got a few sums pending... -.-

All That Flash

This is for all the b**ches I know. It's to tell them, that I love them. This poem's pretty much like the rise and fall of a star. Sounds like a rap though. This is the censored version and I sincerely hope you like it. :]

All That FlashYou're a queen, you set the world on fire,
Babe! You're every guy's wildest desire. x]
Shawty when you hang low like a hook,
All 'em losers don't know where to look.
They love the way you dress, they love the way you move,
They love your swag, they love your groove.

Just how you hide your pain behind those glittering lights,
It gets too much to take, with all that flash and all those nights.
Enter the darkness as you turn around,
All those pretty faces make you fall to the ground.
When the blinding glamour stabs you in the eye,
The whole world may seem like a big fat lie,
That'll be the time, when I'll take your hand,
To show you a world that you can understand.

'Cause you're not the kind of girl who won't get up,
You'll make those haters swallow your hurt like a bitter syrup;
'Cause you're a queen, you set the world on fire,
It's time to bring the house down, and take yourself higher.
Love you all for being the people you are. Xoxox