Cockroach

Of what's left (Bank Page 5)

He left his heart in the arms of the poor

He gave his mind to the ones who were greedy

After all that was given

He smiled and thought

That his job was done

The night was silent

But the silence always is broken

He got up

But with weakness

He saw the destruction

it burnt  him.

He saw the pain

He fell.

He smelt the smoke

He couldn’t breathe.

The tears couldn’t fill

The oceans that had disappeared

He pulled at his hair

Because he couldn’t understand this misery

But to realize the hair was all gone

With every pain, sorrow and death

The wrinkles grew on

He saw that innocence was lost

Where he saw it once belonged.

He looked around for answers

And found it in the distance he saw a boy

Standing armed and frightened

He looked down and asked

“Why have you created such destruction!”

The boy removed his mask and said

“Because they told me it was all for you”

RETARDED RAMBLER

  (BLANK PAGE) 

What I Type But Don't Tell...

Sometimes it’s hard to write. All you really want to do is bang the keyboard hard enough so that it can understand your mind and reproduce your feelings in words, you try to type, “my life isn’t going the way I expected” but all that comes out is “saohafkwbVNLwhdjkvhnalef guvhW Vwhefng akhrwg”.

Because you see writing is just a process, a way of understanding your emotions, but the truth is do you connect to yourself apart from this writing? The words we say here are nothing compared to what we do with them in reality. Believe me when I tell you that words cannot compare to the satisfaction that you receive when you express them. 

I know some of you might be asking “but don’t we express through our words?” and to you I say that yes, yes we do, but do we truly say what we mean? Do we let the person really know what is happening in our mind or are we just diverting them by telling them a random joke or a topic, which you think might be more interesting. That’s where you need to tell yourself, Stop hiding, stop being fearful to accept. Start to realise that your words and your mind connect together without the voice that is telling you not to. Because when you start to do that, then you start to see a new side to you a side that seemed familiar, though distant, a side that you thought you could never achieve, a side called Bliss…

Reflections

Who do I see in this mirror 

Are these the worried woes of the past 

or the future fears that are yet to come?

Is this a message of fame 

or sad witness of shame

Does the beard I wear show the man I have become 

or is it the loneliness that I crave. 

Does this body have the strength to be a warrior 

Or is it going to be an example of weakness. 

What are these reflections 

that blind my eyes 

Are these the images of hope 

or the cracked attempts at Freedom?

Turning...

The mind spins around 

and it doesn't settle 

The shifting colours 

Pierce its way though my memory 

The sides keep turning 

and it makes me wonder 

Which side is me? 

I shift,fold and rearrange 

But the pieces are reluctant to the solution

Which makes everything seem easier 

and yet it takes the alternate route   

You give up 

and let it remain the way it is 

But you know that one day 

You can pick it up 

and switch it around

To see that everything fits...
y

Silence..

Listen to the silence 

 Listen to the echo it creates 

 Can you hear it? 

The screams that are submerged by practicality 

 Look at the darkness 

 Look at the light it emits 

 For in these dark corners 

 Linger the shadows of treachery 

 Can you feel it?

Can you feel the smell? 

The smell of fear 

 That sweats through every thought 

 This is what happens 

 when silence seeps in 

 The senses don't make sense 

and the brain inside starts to mince. 

 - THE.RETARDED.RAMBLER (BLANK PAGE)

Flicker

I stand in a corner 

with darkness surrounding 

There is a light 

a light which makes my way

I see this light and I see hope 

but the light seems to be flickering 

The darkness glows in strange wonders 

flashing my life before me 

I stand staring at an abyss 

of amazing wonders 

But why do these wonders appear 

Only when the light is on 

A tear drops from my hollow eyes 

seeing the flicker, 

The flicker of hope, of joy, eventually 

flickering away until it dies out 

 - THE. RETARDED. RAMBLER

     (BLANK PAGE) 

The Retarded Rambler (with a heart)

Just stand there 

Let me have this moment a little longer 

Let me see your eyes glisten 

In this beautiful moon dance 

Don't let me go 

Because without you my mind 

Only seems to be playing your music 

I want to ask for more time

More time with you 

But your voice makes me get stuck 

Stuck in an infinite loop 

All I seem to be doing 

Is living this moment with you 

Because this is all I have 

These moments, these memories...

Retarded Rambler #4 (Blank Page)

There are the bad days

The days where everything seems small

The days when you seem to be invisible

The days when you try to be there

but your eyes betray your trials

Yes, these are the bad days

Where you cannot control yourself

Where your screams don't have an echo

Where tears leave your blood fading in the drain

There in the pit lies the dignity, the pride, the jealousy

that you escape from

Just to realise that the pit has a hole

that forces it back into you.

The good days, ahh the good days

The good days are when we meet

and you look into my eyes

But you have no Idea

                                                           Of the hell that these eyes bare...

Goggles

Today, what do I say about it. I think what I want to say is that I was drunk. Yes out of my mind and mostly out of my body drunk and I really didn't know what was happening around me and I guess that was something amazing. I passed by Marine drive as if I was passing it for the first time and the feeling that overcame me was something that I had never experienced . Well maybe that is a lie I might have experienced it when I was 12 I guess, the wind was the only voice that could be heard, the delicate yet gentle eyes of the sunset that comforted your eyes for a fleeting few minutes, and everything else is just silent. In that moment you didn't need an additional thing to make that moment perfect because it was that moment that was perfect, where everything looked larger, greater and extraordinary. But this is where my kick started to dry off a little and everything started to mix in the traffic, the shouting, where the sun just seemed to come and go whenever it pleased and where looking around seemed more to be a waste of time rather than an actual experience. Now let me ask you this, if we could see all of this with the goggles of an intoxication, then do we see what life is really about anymore?