breakthecave

“I have lived on the lip of insanity, wanting to know reasons, knocking on a door. It opens. I've been knocking from the inside.” ― Rumi

God Damn!

As he walks out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around waist, he realizes the floor under has disappeared and that as he clings onto the walls of the threshold with each hand and one leg, the other dangles like a lifeless kite struck from a string tied to a post; facing the vast ocean with no boundaries a thousand miles under him and around him he sees a bright afternoon sky.

But when he looks up he sees:

A greedy miser hiding money from a
Malicious child who runs to an
Eager mother who steals from a
Nostic, filthy bum.

All wanting to feed on him, to rip his flesh off and eat it before another character comes along to take part in this play set out by one person with a sense of humor known to no man and to dance on the stage of fire,

He says “I am” but finds crows circling above.

From Dawn, to…

Before dawn,
a soothing river flows,
trees hush each other to sleep.

As dawn breaks,
it pours rain,
a canopy of vines shielding.

As the day moves on,
the sun rises higher in the sky,
seeds sprout, nurtured with love.

The sun dangles in the joyful sky,
reaches out for the roof of the universe,
at noon, the flowers bloom,
and sweet scents fly with the butterflies.

Now descending, the sun’s reign
is coming to an end,
the tip of its sword pierces its own hilt,
the bright blue skies are
dark with desperation and gloom.

The young moon rises
to bid farewell,
to a kingdom that once was,
but will be never again.

Chrysalis

Peacocks greeted me before,
6 in the morning, getting ready for the days adventures, the day to come.
I ate breakfast at a round table, 7 by now, ate with all the manners taught to me.
Rode the bus to school, 8 by now, mist outside.
By 9 I was learning how not to be shy, learning how to ride a bike, learning life’s joy.
It was 10 when I got back my best results to show my mom,
11 when I sat up at night and studied on my own,
12 and I already had some attitude when dad came back from a long day of work,

And then I met you,
Everything went blue,
Not to learn any more,
13 and I was here,
14, and onto 15, still here, with you,
Waiting, watching,
As my whole life slips through my fingers,
Childhood, innocence stolen as though candy from my hands,
Looking over my shoulder, all but happiness that I regretted at that time
It all comes back to me now, but not to be with me, but to leave me once again.

But I had to meet you,
Never to see anyone’s face again,
Never to be shy again,
Never to cry, or hide from mom again,
All that’s left is you, and I’m stuck in it,
No more peacocks,
It’s 2359 at night, and all I see, is you, telling me, that
A tree doesn’t die until all its branches fall off,
Until all the soil goes black,
Until the roots die,
Until I’m alive.

After the Calling

As I lie for the last time on my bed,
Amidst the grey mist that has lit up my mind
Like a volcano coming alive after a million years slumber,
My mind goes one place, and never returns,
To that one day, of that one spring of that one year lost in the ashes of memory.

I had the vision of a lifetime,

A girl with leaf green eyes,
Hair red like the sunset sky,
Walking along peacefully like the wind,

Then I turned,

And the whole world stopped,
It was like my heart wouldn’t stop
Beating till it tore open through my chest,
The girl was there,
And then my eyes were dropped
From the earthly things I grew up around
She was gone, for now…

Every year, I returned,
To look forever at that spot,
But she never returned.

And as the pain shot through,
And the grey returned,
I saw her once again,

Is it me,
Or is the whole world gone?

The Calling

The dry
brown leaves,
on the ground,
never has it been
so nice as to be
leaving.

Half a year has passed full of miseries,
and happy memories.
The lady, far away in the distance,
now close,
pale as a ghost,
is as pretty as a Lilly.
She breathes fire like a hard scaled dragon,
and is the most wonderful
on earth,
something man could never think of:

The beautiful, soft girl,
cheeks with a hint of pink,
blossoming lips,
eyes, green as leaves,
her hair entwines around me,
like a creeper around a lonely tree.

It is a girl who moves like an innocent dove,
she walks calmly, as though on water,
she walks amongst the un trodden leaves under the autumn sky,
but then she turns red as summer
and bursts into flames
a volcano full of anger,
and then a wave washes over and about her, autumn returns,
and I hear a growl,
a slight growl that of a lovely dove…

I hear her calling…

Toil

Steadily treading amongst dry autumn leaves,
There was spring,
The donkey, he heaves.
Winter the Wolf is blowing down his door,
Not a minute’s rest,
Hoof marks all over the floor.
Make haste, cold’s winter’s knock,
Shiver, stand; stand, sleep.
His emotions, under lock.

He sings winter, o winter,
I dance to your glitter,
white as death, coldest breathe,
blow me one, I’ll give you millions more than less,
You’re my freedom, I confess.

He glides now, the warm air,
I made him toil first, only and last breath,
Summer engulfs him, the clouds are his lair.

Why; What If

She asked me “How do you get people to like you?”

To which I replied, “I am a very sad person, X. I’m depressed, annoyed, seeping with rage, angry; not at the world, but at myself. My universe is so screwed that no one dare understand, so much so no one would even care to dare. Every second that passes, with each breath I grow lonelier.
In my desolate, black universe, you’re the lone star that brightens my eyes, with you, the darkness vanishes, and in all the fleeting moments, I feel something new; each time, it’s indescribable. Maybe this is what they like to call happiness? You are my joy, you are my freedom.
However, there are no two ways, there cannot be a compromise. It is either momentary light, or perpetual darkness in my world. My being comprises and operates on the principle of ‘what if’; and sometimes, some people have dared to take a chance on me. It is indeed too much for any person, and too much for me to hope for any compassion. You see, X, courage is the only answer to the conundrum I am. The question you must ask yourself now, is, ‘what if it isn’t too much’, as some have mustered to ask”.

“Are you asking me out?”

“What if I am?”

“And what if I say no?”

“Then we go back to our lives, and nothing would have changed. There would have been no catharsis; you would have learnt nothing new, except to live knowing that you could have. Now, answer this question, to yourself if need be, what if you say yes? What if, it isn’t, indeed too much? Courage; what if you could bend your mind far enough to take a long enough leap?”

Waltz

Day in and day out, I see beauty; in objects, inanimate, animate…animals, birds and bees. The clouds glisten as the trees dance to unsung melody. But with life, comes Death, and she smiles at me. Not because she’s here to get me, I couldn’t be bothered, but because she enumerates the many facets of existence, and its weary march towards the void that it shall undeniably become. It is a strange love story: I move now, stoically, waltzing with her, wanting her, not knowing how to commune with her, spiritually, physically. Death, to have you is to lose you; you are my final conquest, the one peak too high to climb…forever elusive, your beauty, and your perpetuality: Lingering in the shadows, existing ominously; shyly smiling, slyly slithering…just out of my reach…a very strange love story.

Taxi Cab

Staring out of a taxi cab, one really must wonder what the fuck people are still doing existing, at least I do. So familiar, the plants and the trees, for that solitary rider on his two-wheeler, his scooter. Where was he, and where am I now. Mundane cycles upon bicycles, why does he care enough to wake up ever day, only to labour for the sustenance of a pity-full, useless life? The gross magnitude of this inanity is driving me crazy, will I too become one of these plants, just another face, of the kid he saw in that ugly, yellow taxi cab? Taxi, cab, words that rant on endlessly for no purpose whatsoever. Just like the ant who marches, from nothing for nothing, to nothing. Sisyphus deserves to be a god, The People’s God.

Break the Cave

We were once men, professed love, displayed hate. Growing up into boys, we learnt to ebb emotions to a degree of confused apathy. None can go, no one returns. A wall that stands between you and me as the wind flows through my hair, the sun makes the rock faces turn into diamonds…shine on. Carpeting my mind is the plain Forrest over the endless mountains, Greek for perfection: the perfect carpet. Stones tumble as I trod endlessly from what was, school, to what will be, more pointless living. Death, is this what it’s like? We rest our thoughts upon what we say and hear, actions and reactions, there must be a controlling factor to contrast with. But what when you find yourself here, in mindlessness, watching the clockwork of the Universe without expending a single inkling of thought. Bliss, peace and now it’s all gone. I had loved without knowledge, hated without opening my eyes; it’s all done and gone, and now there’s nothing to live for. We were men once, now we are boys…children with nothing to pine for, heartless: to trod along without light or wind, how much further can I get from home: how much farther can I get from myself?