Say a few words. ~ Rachel

A search for happiness is nothing but finding a home in a hearts of few so safe..that you cant help but keep trying to stay in. Hope yall still want in.

In a while,looking at a few old words you wrote once,
some being those, which makes you wonder how you wrote it,
unless you got that ardour , that small drug you were addicted with,that small shelter, that old family. Makes you silent.

In a while, now writing a few words. And that exhilation to share it,ain't the same. And you think about the old time.
Makes you silent again.
~ Manisha.

One day when I get superpowers (ahem), I'd ask you to hold my hands and I would make you see what I see. Feel, How I feel. I would want to have you look at the world, the stars, the moon, the ocean, the way I see them. And in that maelstrom of visions I would get to see the world in your image. Experience this sanctum through your eyes. And then when I write, that would be my greatest work ever. Because It would have been written by all of us and none of us. But I don't have superpowers, so lets make this place, the sanctum in my dream.

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Our Little Cock-le Boat...

Close my eyes, and breathe,
I can hear the rain creeping through trees.
But the ceiling fan plays games in circles,
Mocking, as it sells slaps for dreams.

The sky drowned slowly in nothingness,
like a black hole, without deaths kiss.
Like dark, without the suction of light,
Or is that just my heart?

And I’l listen as you rustle leaves,
softly treading while I sleep.
and I wouldn’t hear you from our bed,
But I was scurrying out our door again.

I run home smelling like your perfume,
the wind blows you back into my room,
Your tongue turns as I gasp for air,
your shape that fits perfectly, that groove, right there.

But the sun brings the dawn of new hands,
And I find myself clinging to another man.
Who will sense my spirit as it writhes, as it glides,
leave my hands with a smile, I can’t deny.

And I board his plane to zenith, hit nadir instead,
“I’m busy, I’l fuck you, next  time”, he said.
And I’l juggle two halves, not willing to choose,
I’d rather rape ego, than ask, for either of you.

So night returns me to our window, with my lips sealed,
lost in the loneliness of the bats screams,
and we run around and have sex in this bush for hours,
wanting each other, cause it can’t be ours.

Monday, March 12, 2012

(My) Propensity of Seasons

Crouching -
An angry low; being covered
blanket of snow.
Distaste to every death and being.
Living, barely breathing.
Icicles on the tip of my tongue.
Feeling frost harden skin while burning.
Slowly rain pouring and purging.
Deep breath, gag up the death.
The metamorphosis of heat and sun.
A warming upon an upturned face.
Crouch to a lounge, a stretch free from burden.

 And the shelves of winter shatter in the wake

(Leaving chipped glass hidden for the future.)

I'm not sure why I like this piece so much. I just loved writing it though.
I love that destruction

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Keeper of the Dead Flowers

The harness around the mirror is cracked,
Blood, bruises, and pain are your better friends.
I'm hardly a consolation.
though i think you like me near

I think I admire your bravery.
I think I admire your blood, bruises, and pain.
I think I wish I could drown.

You could.
But I admire my desire to live more, or hate it.
Unsure. Either way,
I suffer for it.

Because you could drown.
But I'm always drowning.
You just gasp and throw up blood.
I let it live like poison inside.

-Poetically beautiful, no
Artistically done, not at all
Bored and feeling like the world is claustrophobic and without much hope of betterment? Per usual.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Waste of Space...

So I'm trying to do something new here..a new base..somewhat? :[ :P and its meant to be a song

Waste of Space...

How many times will you fall?
How long are you going to crawl?
When will you learn to be a man?
Evolution got you off your hands!

Dont you see the ground below you?
Its time you took a stand for you.
If you dont believe you are something,
we wont believe it for you.

And you are just the waste of space you think you are
And you are just the waste of space you think you are
Just as ugly as the mirror
Just as empty as your glass.
Just as fat, aint getting thinner,
as boring as the days gone past.
As beautiful as you believe...

Your life has gone astray,
you expect me to lead the way.
I'l be the torch for your lives,
but what happens when my batteries die?

And if you know you're going to fail
the whole world cant help you sail.
Its time to cut the cord if they stop you
from being who you want to, today.


How many times will you fall?
How long are you going to crawl?
When will you learn to be a man?
Evolution got you off your hands!

Get off your hands...

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

In Rememberance of those Poetic things

Remember this as the world crashes down. There was a falling building inside that raindrop. The streets engulfed in flames are behind this wall of rainfall. I can feel it; even if it isn’t real.
Remember these lips. They press against yours softly as I curl my body against yours hidden within the sheets. These sheets are my modesty. They hide my scars. The scars you lightly trace with your hands. No pity – just those soft hands. Sometimes when I can escape the madness in my head and the roars of all the noises and voices I can just feel those hands lightly tracing. Most times I can’t. I relish the moments I can; like now.
Remember the song we sang together, the first and probably the only song we will sing together. We both are horrible singers. We just happen to both know the lyrics as it was on the radio that cloudy day on the ride home. That really was an ugly day.
I’m feeling numb and I know I’m dying in a slightly accelerated rate than I had originally intended. I don’t mind.
Dying helps me remember this

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Empty Words

spoke to my friend,
i could not reach.
i hugged her empty,
i could not reach.
dug deep down i know she did,
inside her, the dream still kills
i kissed her soft and tender,
she looked with tired eyes.
i held her in warm surrender,
she's numb from the inside.

cold her lips are,
shineless her eyes are,
i touch her,i feel nothing
i look at her,she stares past me
she does not believe
she does not feel

underneath the sheets,she built her dreams
dreamt of a home,without a cornerstone
together as one,forever free
underneath the sun,just you and me
all came undone,silence the only home
music never played,for time took her love

as i am
i cannot see
as i am
i cannot reach
for i feel not her pain
i simply feel sorry
for i feel not her loss
i simply feel sorry
as i am
i cannot understand
as i am
i cannot be her friend

she spoke to me,
but i never felt.
she spoke to me,
but i didn't listen.
words dont mean a thing,
when silence is her being.
sympathy never yet made a friend,
empathy yet i do not inderstand.
she is faraway, she is all alone
she is faraway, she is all alone
she is faraway, she can never be home

Monday, April 4, 2011

In Dying

And so the mist swelled up from the snow
dancing in its own gloom glow.
Swallowing sun rays whole.
The roses crippled in the darkened night
begging for the return of light.
To burn out the blight.

Gold hues abandoned the circlet in the sky
and dust replaced the eye.
Permanence in sight.
No more in love's ache and never in hurt.
A frail existence subverted,

And for the body?
Burn it.

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