Fancy reading some unconventional poetry …. available on Amazon.
Into the depths
we plunge ourselves
not realising that
the longer we continue
falling, it will start
To feel like flying
and soon after
we will make abyss
On my walk today through a neighbourhood, there was a box of books with the label, ‘Free books or they are going to the skip’. And in it along with a copy of death of a salesman by Arthur Miller I found this, The Complete Works of William Shakespeare.
I mean, who the hell throws such copies away in the skip. There a lot of charity shops that would love to take them, if you can’t find enthusiasts to take them off you personally. I am glad I saved it though. So so glad.
We are all waiting, waiting to go somewhere, somewhere we have never been, Where we want to be, but don't know yet, Undecided, bewildered, confused, because we don't know, if it is a place we want to be, Or is it somewhere in our mind, this place that we await, constantly.
And upon this dirt that we find ourselves, we are bound to it to be one with it, The dirt does not complain about your coming, so why must you complain insistently, eternally, being on it, while you can.
From all that we once were and for all that we will be nothing matters more than the love within us, we must keep.
Prisoner of your own mind, afraid to converse with your own thoughts, Restricting your language, to attain acceptance from people who no longer understand love, compassion or forgiveness, You have become the very disappointment which you once espoused to fight. Freedom is nothing but a monocle to you, that you causally place on your blind eye, As you judge others through the lens of your other lazy gaze, You have become a parasite in a joyless world with no names or foresight.
Forever, as I have been and will be I have walked with my thoughts conversing, debating on how to be the better me. And as I now walk in silence amidst the wet grass chirping birds and faceless passersby I think I will forever walk with my thoughts till the day I die.
The road ahead is hard, and the time is running out, But it is hard for us all, And the time is always running out, We are all in this together but we must not all give in to the madness together, The road ahead is hard, and the time is running out, for us all to come to our senses, and start thinking for ourselves.
Remember, the river flows freely as it finds its way, It is you that obstruct it thinking, that its strength is in the flow and not in the sustenance of its being.
On the path you will find it all, Whether you like it or not, Depends on the way you walked.
Trauma, mental illness, attention-deficiency, aches, ailments, and sentimental bearings:
Cerulean is the poetry book that takes it all the way there and doesn’t beg for forgiveness along the way. It trudges both onward and backwards without apologizing, the author launching herself and her readers into pain, despair, bewilderment, blood, gore, self-imprisonment, mental battlegrounds, and her own, demonic undertakings in a way she never has before.
This collection represents the twistings and turnings which arose from the author’s attempt to finally release her early adulthood into her haunted past, only to discover that the latter is, and always will be, among the most inevitable parts of her existence.
Mumblings of a Fool – a collection of poems is available for Free on Kindle from 5th of June Friday till 9th of June Tuesday 2020 PDT.