Late nights

These days, I fumble

for the words that used to tumble

out of my fingers

These days, they linger

deep in my mind

In a space hard to find

Hard to string out in sentences.

Somehow, some fences

built themselves too high.

These words of mine

hide behind "I'm fine",

behind "what would people say"

These days, they lay

under all the chores

spread all over the floor 

from growing up, growing old.

Imagining as an adult

It's in your head, he says.
The words were straight, not crooked.
The thoughts did not follow.
The look did not exist.
The snigger and the figuring out
The lingering air
The flicker of doubt
In the thicker part
of her words.
An endless list.
It's all in your head.
Repeat after him,
And you will believe
You will leave
Your thoughts alone. 

Songs for M - 1

I made this up on the way back from work on the 3rd of December, 2016. You were inside me for about five months by then.

You make my tummy flutter,
You're my little butterfly.
You make my heartbeat quicker,
With the light that flickers in your eyes.
And in my minds eye,
I can see your tiny hands;
And when you grow up
I hope you understand -
How much I loved you from this moment on,
Even before you were born.

P.S: She was 10.5 weeks in that last post. She's 11 weeks now! Already losing count. 

Him (written on 20th April 2016)

'You're pretty.' He said.

He didn't see the freckles

or the falling hair.

He didn't see her creases

that she hated so much.

Instead,

he traced her broken skin,

healed her broken heart,

'You're pretty', he said.

He traced the creases on her skin.

Tucked hair behind her ear.

He is a cliche.

He takes care of me,

even though I'm twenty five.

He forgets dates

(But then, so do I).

He makes me laugh,

takes my hand,

and 

shows me the world

He doesn't pretend to be it.

He is a cliche,

But I wouldn't have it

any other way.

Doubts

They are tears that only spill at night
The urge to silence yourself in stillness
Your crooked eyebrows and disbelieving eyes
Songs and words mixing together
inside your head.
They are crumpled up papers in your brain
Lists made and thrown away
Promises made and broken
They are your tired wrists and paining shins
Nostalgia for a time long gone
Sleepless nights and meaningless words.

Heart

My heart beats faster,
Because you are there.
No, really, my heart is beating for you.
Beating to keep you alive,
Beating to make you grow,
Beating as its beat by yours.
Your heart beats faster than mine.
But, what do you know about the world?
You are only the size of my palm.
Safe, tucked inside.
Your heart will slow
when you know the truth.
Bitter, dark, tear jerking reality.
But,
I hope you can still keep the other heart alive.
The one that matters.
In the inside of inside of inside of you.

Anxiety

I need a break from my mind

From those thoughts that rise up like magic tricks

Bursting into a million pieces

Before I can trace their roots.

I need to break out of this cycle

Of trying to figure out why

And then the why of that why

And then the why of that why of that why

The made up becauses

It doesn't matter it doesn't matter it doesn't matt-

But it does.

It's not real it's not real it's not re-

But it is.

I need a switch that I could flick

every time the voice refuses to silence.

Words

Words don't flow any more
They seem to be hidden, maybe lost
somewhere deep within me.
Words refuse to be my friend,
to help me out when I need them the most.
To stop the tears.
To make the ache disappear.
To mediate between us.
Words ran away to their mouths;
They dribble from their pens;
but refuse to be even pulled out from mine.
I thought I knew how to write,
I thought I knew how to rhyme,
I thought I knew how to bend feelings into letters.
But,
words don't flow any more.

Clarity

TA can use her words so incredibly well. We only ever talk over whatsapp - in our years of friendship, I can only remember having coffee with her a couple of times. The most amount of face to face time we had was probably during our wedding. Yet, she can somehow tell when I am a little bit under the weather.

Here's a little draft of something else I wrote in light of my convo with TA today:

The world inside my head is blurry.

It used to be clear

Before you walked in.

I had my pen, lined paper

and thoughts.

I had my eyes, two feet

and a cup of coffee.

I formed words easily - 

I could hear them talk

without listening to them.

I could smile with bright eyes

without letting them peak inside.

You ripped me apart,

blurred my vision,

took the words, and,

Began reigning inside my head.

Faking it

I have a knack for burning bridges really fast. Looking back at my life, I have probably burnt more bridges than I sustained, leaving very few people from my past into my current life. Except for my family and a few friends here and there, most people in my current life are new. I am not sure whether this is a good or a bad thing, or neither. I guess it means that I change with the people around me and so I stop relating to people that I previously could, so, we slowly drift. Often times I have consciously cut people off my life - people that I knew will keep having a negative impact on me as time goes by.

What's the first thought on your mind when you wake up?

Here's a very rough draft of something:

We rush through life like a race
Set to start when thinking starts
Must be better, must be faster,
Must ignore our beating hearts.
They tell you how you should proceed
First comes this and then comes that
Must not mess with the order of things
Must not stop for idle chat.
Gather your wealth and use your eggs
Don't put them all in one basket
You are the only one you need, they said,
But they are the ones you must please.

Domesticity

I wrote a few lines of poetry after a very long time, yesterday. I almost forgot that I used to write. I almost can't remember what it was like to not let real life get in the way of myself (not that this is a good thing, but its usually the more attractive option). I was inspired by a friend who also writes.

Cut through me, all the way to my essence.
Spoon out some love from its jar,
Compassion and passion
Pour them into the hole you made.
Do not alarm yourself if a couple of tears and
A few drops of blood and sweat
Drip onto your hands.
They'll tell you
I'm alive.

Most of my poetry have a particular reason behind them, and only I know the reason. For example, I had a fight with my mum and wrote the one that started with 'stuck in a stalemate' about five years ago. I didn't write down the reason behind it anywhere, but I still remembered imageries from the poem. I can't even remember what the fight was about, but I remember the feeling and the pictures that formed in my mind. 

Right now, I am sipping on a tea in front of the fan while writing. The tea packet claims that it 'will have you feeling absolutely peachy. The peachy feeling you get from recharging in the sun while the world is on mute. Except for the radio, which appears to be playing your favourite song'. I'm not listening to the radio right now, but how is the description so perfect? That is exactly how I was feeling when I got the tea and started to write, with the world on mute and all.

Our stove isn't working. The car has a massive scratch, due to me, which is getting rusted right now. The house has ants here and there, not exactly sure why. I still have at least three years to finish studying. The milk and bread went off sometime between two days ago and this morning. There is a pile of clothes to wash, plates and cups to rearrange and furniture to dust. 

Undated, untitled

Lipstick woven dreams
Reach the violet sky;
The sweet scent of those words
Drift in sorrow.
They drift through open windows,
Across yellowed fields.
Drift inside your sleepy eyes,
Conjuring dreams of hope -
Blue bubbles of clouds,
An adventure?
A happy ending.

New Song

I was looking through my songs and poems, and I realised, the last bit of rhyme I wrote was in May. The time before that was October. In 2010, I wrote twenty three songs/poems. I admit, they are bad poetry to some. But I have always liked it. I think I decrease certain habits when I realise that someone I care about disapproves of an aspect of it. For example, I remember stopping by 365 photos last year when someone made a comment about how mundane they are. However, poetry, tunes, photography - they are all art. And no matter how bad they are, they somehow speak out what is in the heart. So I shan't stop creating bad art! :)

This is a draft I just typed up about the newest love of my life. Guess who? Hint: It's been about 5 months.

Verse 1:

So this morning, I realised,
I haven't written in a while.
Fell out of love, and stayed out here
I tried to think of lovely words
Fairyfloss and evening birds
Looked in my heart and found you, dear.

CHORUS:

Your smile, your dimples,
Your twinkling eyes
Illegible sounds you make
They sure suffice
They let me know you love me
And dear, I love you too
I tell you nearly everyday
Hope you know its true.

Verse 2:

You're the newest person I love
And I pray to God, up above
He keeps you safe, sound and bright
So when you sleep and have bad dreams
Or your mother denies you chocolate ice-cream
You know you can always come and hug me tight.

And again.

Although I often forget that my heart is only Yours

You keep me close, You hold my hand and lead me into light.

Although I turn my back on You and think I am enough

You push me in a corner, with no results, I fight. 

And when I lose - yet again - I feel like such a fool,

I realise that I've been here many times before

When I keep sinking to the bottom of the sea

You always bring me right back to the shore. 

Fear of dreaming

Wrote this a few months ago, with a tune! :)

Every time she lets herself dream,
The dream becomes a wondering thought.
She tells herself over and over again
Not to try to reach high, 'cause its a long shot.
There's a huge, huge chance she'll fall,
Shatter into pieces and crawl
back into her cocoon of tears,
Strengthening those unsaid fears.

They say all those things
In the songs they sing
of fairy tales and diamond rings;
Are they ever true
Do they have a clue
of how it goes when times get blue.

'Cause every time the dream is a thought,
It wonders to the edge of her mind.
Starts believing it has wings, while it doesn't,
Leaps in a faith too blind,
And in the huge, dark hole - it drops,
Before it has a chance to stop,
Hits the cold hard ground of reality.


They say all those things
In the songs they sing
of fairy tales and diamond rings;
Are they ever sure
Or just a guess too poor
Attempting to break down closed doors?

They say all those things
In the songs they sing
of fairy tales and diamond rings
Just to make you dream
Just to make it seem
like its not an illusion.

Somewhat nerdy?

Yes, its 2.03 AM, and I really should be studying... instead, I just wrote a lame rhyme. Hope I get to use this on someone someday! xD

When I look at you,
My sympathetic system makes me feel pathetic.
Raising heart rate
Making pupils dilate
It gives me away,
And I look for words that I should say
That won't make you notice
That you make me release
A whole bunch of stuff like dopamine.

When I hear your voice
I have no choice
But to undergo some PVCs,
I try to look busy
But you make me feel dizzy
Like I'd forget my ABCs.
It gives me away,
And I look for words that I should say
That won't make you notice
That you make me release
A whole bunch of stuff like dopamine.

Another pointless poetry

Every time she lets herself dream

The dream becomes a wandering thought

It wanders to the edge of her mind

And often, out of carelessness,

While her mind rocks in uncertainties,

The dream falls.

Then, over and over again,

They fall.

The fallen dreams become sharp pieces of caution.

Shattered, they cut into the soft flesh

of what her heart used to be.

16th June

Words began by tumbling across your heart,

They stomp around in an arrogant, flaring rage,

They boil and brew the letters within themselves;

Words began by breaking out of their cage.

They try to find a way to climb to lips,

They stutter as they struggle in their path.

They clog your throat, hurrying in their quest,

Words cannot contain this untamed wrath.

The other words have broken down already,

They froze because they knew not what to do -

Melting into pieces of tiny tears,

Confused about which bits of them are true.

Some have risen from sweet memories of love,

Moments that are cherished by your heart.

Hidden in deeper corners than your thoughts

These words, too, finally begin to depart.

They walk in darkness, fly across,

They stumble in each other's ways,

They forget why they were formed at all

In this unsolvable maze.

They all arise, they rise, they rise.

Until they reach your eyes

One by one, they begin to fall.

Your lips could not bear them, so,

Your eyes have said it all.

What we cannot fathom

She prays for a pair of wings;
Wishes her heart could sing out loud.
She yearns to breathe the rain,
For it may wash her pain away.
She imagines the land beyond that fence,
Wonders what her chance could have been
Then laughs at her own silliness.
Does freedom exist at all?

Does the world ever hear their screams?
Gun shots, spilt blood,
Does it see their broken dreams?
Would it shudder at the thought of the crumbling building
that trapped her child last winter?

Or does it turn a blind eye,
Change the channel.
Pretend she does not exist at all. 
She wonders.


I wonder if she did, before their gun shot took her life.


A 23-year-old woman, identified as Enas Shreitih, from Al Yarmouk refugee camp in Syria was also among the killed by Israeli fire.

Draft from 26th April 2011

(Just realised I wrote this exactly a month ago!)

I wrote this one on the 18th of August, 2010. Now that I look back on my posts, that particular day was not so bad. I think that was the end of my journey of one cycle - when I was in the 'reformed' state. However, I vaguely remember how I felt a few days before this, and it was not good. However, alhamdulillah, I managed to get out of it. So many crimes are happening around me lately. When I see them, I feel extremely scared, because, at times, I think that that person could have easily been me. When anger and frustration takes over your mind, and you cannot perceive anything clearly, you stop being human. You can do anything, inflict any pain, on anyone. It does not have to be a physical pain (although it often is). You often psychologically damage your own self, by contradicting what you do with what you really should be doing, in order to make yourself feel good. The trick is to stop those emotions right at the beginning of their track.

Every night I tell Him I will return in the morning,
Start my day afresh with that strange sensation of yearning,
I will try to feel Him in my heart, tomorrow, I will,
Can't I forget the truth and live in dreams, just for tonight?

Tomorrow, I shall smile, I will be grateful again,
I'll thank Him for the happiness of relieving me of pain;
I will notice little beauties, tomorrow, I will!
But, for now, I just wish to close my eyes and lose my sight.

The day is gone, I lost the point that I was holding on;
I believe tomorrow, my soul will wish to be reborn.
My heart will cry with intense love and reach out to You, Lord,
Tomorrow, I shall fix me up and set it all aright.

So, I sleep tonight, every night, waiting for tomorrow,
The day when my heart will be free of darkness and sorrow;
Yet, I refuse to raise my hands, refuse to take a step.
Is it shame I feel? Or pride? Hopeless, unable to fight?

Somewhere, beneath the darkness that envelopes my heart's eyes,
I vaguely remember finding sunshine in the skies;
But my feet are heavy, caught in the quicksand on this world,
It pulls on me, drags me down, boasting of its might.

I look for those tiny rays of sunshine in my heart,
Knee deep in fake life, I begin to wish for a new start.
Sinking lower, I have no way, 'cept to find those rays -
I rummage through my memories, desperate in my plight.

As the dirt covers my waist, suddenly, I see them!
Two small rays of sunshine poking through my past's dark phlegm;
I reach inside, pull on one, pull its tiny thread
Faster and faster, thirsty for it to shed its light.

The frozen tears on my hardened heart get ready to flow,
I can feel the viscous sinking start to slow...
With wet eyelashes, a shivering soul and tingling fingertips,
I feel His mercy elevate me to a surreal height.

I take a step, slowly, walking free from the quicksand,
The ray of sunshine grows on me, I learn to understand,
I learn to feel, I learn to love; You only I worship.
Thank You, for making my 'tomorrow' bright.