Tag Archives: love

What Do I Know

What do I know of sadness
The tears of a life’s endless troubles
The separation from a loved one
The perpetual state of a rejected soul
When I was conceived only 9 months ago
And have only learnt to write

What do I know of happiness
The hearty laughter over a good meal
The joy of having one’s many sins forgiven
The excitement over a huge jackpot
After all, I was only born yesterday
And being taught how to write

What do I know of hate
The irritation with which I kill a fly
The insensitivity of a passionate murderer
The repulsion I feel for the baby I act like
Was it not only yesterday I came alive
Was it not only writing I was taught

What do I know of love
The unwritten care of father for son
The burning euphoria of frank orgasm
The insane bond between The Maker and men
After all, today is my second day on earth
And learning to write is all I am doing

Advertisements

On little soul games: affections

Heart

Heart (Photo credit: mozzercork)

It hurts and you know it
You tickle my emotions
And my heart is sore
You string my thoughts along
And my soles are worn out
You play on my psyche
And I am tired
Does it give you any pleasure
To hear me admit it
That, even though I regard myself highly
You are far better than I am
You know the limits of my abilities
Intelligence, emotions, will power
Does it give you any pleasure
To hear me admit it
Because it boosts your ego
Or because it crushes mine
Yes, I can’t play along for too long
And since you likely knew
I would come to this breaking point
Why did you start this at all
To convince yourself you really could
Or to convince me you are all that
You taunt me everywhere I turn
I hear songs and my head swims
I see people and I only recognise your face
I know I am having a psychotic breakdown
Or how do I smell your fragrance
Even whilst in the loo
Through the day I dream
Through the night, of course…

Yet I can’t say I am in love with you.

Love?

Love ? I love love love you.

Love ? I love love love you. (Photo credit: @Doug88888)

Introductory note: The Enchanted Writer is sick to the bones, and won’t be writing for a while. He is down with the flu. Some who know him as a medical doctor may be asking why he doesn’t treat himself. I met him last night when he told me he caught the virus whilst worrying over occurrences around him regarding people and love. He had always had his idea of what love was, being raised in the arms of the Creator who knew how to love like heaven.
——————————————————
1.
You kicked me in the side
Told me you were just playing
I winced in pain
Love hurts

2.
You barked loudly in my ear
Told me you were just talking
I shifted with discomfort
Love unnerves

3.
You gripped me by the arms
Told me you were holding me
I fought for ease
Love constricts

/then you upped the game/

4.
You lied to my face
Told me you were protecting me
I bow in shame
Love deceives

5.
You threatened, flared and raged
Told me you were expressing your feelings
I cringe in fear
Love scares

6.
You gave me silent treatment overdose
Told me you were controlling your emotions
I shiver in cold
Love isolates

7.
You hurt my body and soul in a fit of emotions
Told me your love was passionate
I cry in regret
Love burns

8.
I gave my body, soul and life
Told you I loved you
I died in love
Love is sacrifice

R.I.P.

Author’s note: I hope my dear Enchanted One does not lose his life until he has found a cure for the lovaster that’s at large!

Word helper: Lovaster –a term derived by standard etymological processes from “love” and “disaster”.

if i were

English: Horse shot at Munnar

English: cat and dog Español:gato y perro

If I were a castaway horse stranded outside your ranch
Would you take me into your premium stable-suite
Or would you call the Indian on me
Who would blame you anyway

If I were a stray dog hanging around your gate
Would you let me into your warm house
Or would you call the pound on me
Who would blame you anyway

If I were scruffy kitten being chased by a bulldog
Would you rescue me
Or would you let me be
Who would blame you anyway

If I were an orphaned cockroach scurrying in your kitchen
Would you let me to the dustbin full of fresh leftovers
Or would you call the exterminator on me
Who would blame you anyway

If I were an ant struggling in the spider’s web
Would you take me back to my nest
Or would you watch to see my fate
Who would blame you anyway

P.S.: A human being the worst of all creatures and architect of his own doom
Suffering inside but defiantly feigning bravado outside
Yet You forced your help through to him
Who would not thank You

Yet they despise you!

Falling Apart Into New.

Seasons-2

I am crying every way I can.
I am trying to express this on paper every way I can.
Now I am never going to get over this also.
Now I am getting used to the tears of previous seasons gone by haunting me with the turn of a new season.
There were waves of terrorist attacks in the region where I was last winter. The region was isolated from the usual life I had been used to. The people were very different from the people I had grown up with –and not just in physical appearance/resemblance. I was at a new phase of my career. I had moments of fun and all sorts. It was supposed to be a very eventful/memorable period of my life.
But, whenever I look back on that season of my life, I only remember the times I sang to you under the sun’s glory, my headphones booming steadily against my eardrums. I only remember the times I played with thoughts of you whilst jauntily strolling in the evening’s peace. I only remember crying in sweet fondness as I prayed to you in the peak chill of the night’s dark. I only remember waking up in high hopes of spending the new day with you every morning’s bright. Our moments together have become fairy-ghosts that haunt my every recollection of that phase of my life. It’s like I am having selective amnesia; and my memories are being replaced completely with only those that have to do with you. At this rate, I won’t have any have any recollection of my growing up years before I met you. I won’t remember the fact that I spent 6 years of my life studying to be a doctor. Heck! One day, I will probably wake up with no memories of my name or who I am. But, I know I will remember every moment we spend together. Fairy-ghosts now eat up the parts of my brain storing the information about all else, as I remember more clearly only those long-gone moments having to do with you. I am losing bits of “me”. It’s not so much about losing those pieces of information as is about losing the essence of “me”, my past, my experiences, my perceptions of the past. There’s more: it’s even affecting my perception of the present. I am at a function, and instead of focusing on analysing the people and personality profiling, I am thinking about how that function could somehow relate to you; and what I’d do with you; and you showing up promiscuously in the arena.
I am not just me again.
P.S.: And I’ll look in the mirror one day and will see you. You might as well change my physical form to yours. I couldn’t care less again!