Asylum Diaries

Waking up from a nightmare

I look around to see there's no one there

A warm drop of sweat brushes down my brow

Eyes deluging with terror and sorrow

It's still dark when I wake up again.

I guess I just can't sleep right

not with these memories, not in this life,

Its all futile; trying to fall asleep in vain

Living undone, quietly as I watch my life drain

I haven't breathed a sigh since you left

I have never smiled since you wept

An oblivious life, I lead in self-deprivation,

in false imagery and vague anticipation

The tears have all dried, its been long since I cried

Gazing into nothing, with eyes open wide

No voices around me, just whispers in silence

No sounds of your laughter or tunes of your violins

When midnight strikes, I sit by the window

No more songbirds on the branches, only a shrieking crow

I hear the sound of your footsteps on the fallen leaves below

And the cold wind knocks down and leaves open the door

Grasping for the wind, confined in this unholy constrain

What's this life, without you? Why do I cling so dearly to this pain?

I walk a corpse, I can't feel my own breath

Finding meaning in longing and purpose in death

Through the Pane

Gazing through the window pane

at colors and forms, moving all around

in all their shades and tints,

and Glory - conquered, inherited, claimed,

or sometimes just a disguise 

hiding the inner turbulence, the darker fears,

trying to fill the bore, the deep void,

attempting to veil the failures.

Lovers walking hands in hands,

in oblivion, in the bliss of ignorance;

And friends, claiming one moment that they are

and then forgetting it the next.

Looking through the glass

as the sunlight spreads on the grass and the pavements,

as some choose to face it, some search for shade

but never truly finding one to rest in.

Faces, they're all a stage.

Expressions, never alike.

A zealous lot of youth playing in the distance

as innocence echoes in this lifeless vacuum.

What's a victory on the field, when you've lost your soul to the material?

Everything looks alive.

everything lives, walks , in and from all walks of life.

I see the beauty, but I see no purpose, if you're not here.

What's a life that wasn't touched by you?

Why is my life? Why must I live?

Tabula Rasa

The sounds of silence please me,
their rhythm flowing through the hollow of my being,
the holes in my sanity impart the music
Just like a flute;
Amusing to you it sounds.
That's my purpose, after all.

The objects in the dark fascinate me,
shapeless, hidden, forms unknown,
scared to be dragged out into the light;
Just like my existence,
Hiding away in the corner of a murky abyss,
in fears and repercussions,
Struggling to find peace.


Where fire dreams of calmness, and smoke of comfort;
where dust wishes for wings, and clouds for feet,
Where angels dig for venom, and the devil falls in love,
where objects seem to wail and hearts turn to stone,
is where I live,
is what I witness.

I choke on my own breath

A Dirge and a funeral

I wail before my own decaying soul,
I weep over the corpse of a dead tree
the tree I saw, wistfully, in my vague reflection,
wryly, grinning back at me.

Its seeds I carried beneath my skin,
nurtured them with blood, my own
I tore my flesh when I sowed them down
Watered it with tears until it was grown

My dreams, I fed to the soil every morn
And Oh how I cried when I saw the first leaves
Visions, sure I had, of how it'd rise
And Oh how I cry now as the tree bids me leaves

In the torments of the burning sun
Did I not stand beside you for shade?
Notwithstanding the whirling tempests
My arms, your haven had I not made?

Did my love clamor loud of intention?
or covert perhaps a surmise of greed?
Did I shelter you because I expected the same?
Would I rape the self of my own seed?

My whims, urges and all my dreams,
I bred underneath the branches you grew.
All my pain and all my secrets,
oh when were they ever secrets unto you?

And then the drought of empathy when struck,
and dried your soil of fathom and discern;
and they punished me for dreaming, and rebuttal,
For compassion and forbearance, my heart did yearn.

I sang to you my serenades in our days,
and oh how you'd sway as if it did pour;
Now I chant you a requiem as I bewail unto thy mort
The carcass of the tree I once envisioned soar.

Stakes

It takes the span of a breath for castles to fall,

to turn to ruins that gather nothing but appal

I'd pillar alone the weight of the crumbling wall

but how long, with a love so deep for a heart so small?

Its a shame that must smear our countenance with disgrace

How the words we once exchanged have now left no trace

Looks for refuge, who'd once sworn to be my brace

Now the one who carves a bigger bruise would be the one that wins the race

A spell before you took a step, would you ever think twice?

When the stakes get too high , must you roll the dice?

As you walked away with the laurels, I battled to pay the price

As you cherish your complacence, I find home in my disguise

Autumn in our Orchard

Indifferent even to the Maple that bore us,
Unaware of its countless branches,
We were two leaves
that had never known the wrath of the seasons.
Tiny sprouts, of vibrant crimsons,
the fiery shades of the sun,
callow, but unperturbed.


We'd sway in the breeze that'd call on our orchard;
Overjoyed and restless,
as we witnessed each other grow.
The lofty cypress would gape in scorn
while, the brambles would chuckle amongst;
The little daffodils that grew beside our feet
would glance up and dance at us
whilst the bare oak turned away in envy.


It was an uncanny summer, ours, that year
odder than in the stories of the old chestnut.
I saw you drying, as your shades grew pale
I grew paler, as I gave my own life to you.
Silently we gazed afar
as the rain washed us over.


Our crimson faded, as we bled profusely,
But breathing, in solace of our togetherness;
and oblivious, of the iniquity
of the stranger times that awaited us.


Recalls of the whirling sounds of our laughter
as we'd sway in pleasant harmony;
Songs of our chortle, our muse be the breeze,
Psychedelic sounds, inducing synesthesia
of before when autumn dried our veins.
Then,
pale and gloomy, we fell from our shoot
on the insolent ground
whilst our colossal maple took no heed...

Now the only sound we make
is when someone walks over our parched, lifeless carrion.

What's with the label, dude!?!

We have descended into a materialistic world. Moving forward with an exponentially increasing velocity, over the past recent years, we are well ahead on the way to becoming a dystopic, aristocratic totalitarian society and the U.S as the imperialist power.

Why are we becoming such puppets to the tune of utter commercialism? Where are we taking our society? We're pushing and establishing social norms that will one day lead to our kids living in a society who's castes are based on the kind of designer labels they can afford! Somewhat like the Armani, Gucci, Cavalli, Chanel league is the most affluential, the trendsetters,

Louis Vuitton, Burberry, etc. are almost as good, yet have less power.

Loiuse Phillipe, Mango, Harley-Davidson, Calvin Klein etc. are wealthy but chilling kinds.

Levi's, Benetton, Bizzarre, Pepe Jeans, Tommy, Van Huesen are getting-there's.

The rest don't even matter.

You want to earn a lot and buy your favorite car and wear your favorite brand, because you saw someone flaunting it al the other day outside the club! It has become more of a point to prove than honest ambition. Such is our desperate need to fit in!

Why should the society define stringent norms for what being 'cool' or 'hot' is? And who is this entity called 'Society' if not we ourselves? Why do we need to be mental and economic slaves that follow the rigid norms, once defined strategically (and succesfully affecting our logics immensely overtime) for what success is? And also for what is right and what is wrong, unjust or justified?  In a world, where we only have tentative, and rather blasphemous, institutions that generalize the legitimate and the illegitimate, should we not free ourselves of the parrot fashion and mass labeling?

Is there no meaning left in our lives except to be born and grow up and eventually die in the same old beaten way?

Does one's materialistic inventory make one 'cool' or 'successful', and hence authorize one to atrociously encroach upon another's basic human rights?

The obvious answer is no. Because it was this approach that drove Adolf Hitler to carry out heinous genocide of the Jews! It was the same mentality that nurtured Apartheid and still promotes Racism, Gender Abuse, and Violence everywhere in the world.

It is time now that we wake up and be aware of the slow poison that is silently decapitating us. It's time you start questioning the existing norms and ideals. Unfortunately, there are no magic wands or spells that will change the world for better in less than a minute. The change begins from you!