Casual demolition

Standard

Feelings deceive,
It would be better if a man could never feel,
Of what use are our feelings? 
Those who feel intensely are seldom seen..!
Life has a different plan altogether,
I wish my heart could stop and focus on more important things such as my Salvation, My life and what I plan to do about staying away from Hell.
But oh no,  I have to fall into what’s of no use for me, I have to fall for people who feel not a thing for me, I have to bear this pain, this breaking sensitive possession of my heart, brain and soul that invades the essence of moi’ , and begins controlling me by subjecting me to what can never be.
I hate feeling this way,
I hate being here again,
I hate being this way…  I am so sick of ending back in this place time and time again,
I’ve had enough, I’ve been through enough,
I know when I’m not needed, my mind is easy to convince,  it’s my heart that refuses to comply and stop feeling.
In some people’s life you are a speck, in some a short affair and in others a mistake, and in the majority of the cases….  a mere stranger intruding into what has already been constructed and is alive,
I hate this lack of control, I can’t stand this demolition of my heart’s repressed wishes,
Pain creates more poets than love ever did,
Suffering far greater writers than happiness ever did.
Please stop killing me with your irresistibleness, Please cut your ties with me it’s better that way.
I can’t feel differently about you… Believe me I’ve tried, and I don’t want to be some creep that was too desperate and too enthusiastic, yeah I know how that feels like.
This is not me… I’m a silent warrior, I’m at war within…  I don’t have time for this… I got dreams to fulfill, greatness to live upto, struggles to overcome.
As much as I would love for you to feel the same way about me… I hate to beg and I hate to ask when you’re madly in love with somebody else. That’s just plain wrong. I’ve been in this situation too many times before.
So thank you for the casual demolition, I much enjoyed it… My heart’s broken and my life’s at a standstill.
I am sorry I cared, forget it…  it’s much better for me to deal with my terrific wounds and bruises.
Thank you and please don’t visit again.

Advertisements

The Silken Carpet of the Dark

Standard

The night is when I am truly alive,
I find myself speaking to ghosts from memories past,
conversing with dreams and hope,
longing deep and more,
The night is what I am made of.
I speak often to God,
sinking slow into the billions of atomic shores
that are not enough to capture his infinite, unfathomable
heart.
I pick apart each thought,
the heart is no longer a maddening
series of shocks, reactions and preoccupations.
The weight of the world has eased off my heart,
I lose myself in the furthest stars,
whose crinkling glows pierces my own heart.
I act deranged, trying to stuff all the empty silence into
the inward chambers of my heart… I long to inject them
whenever I weep for Freedom when the ambulance sirens return
in the hot and dusty mornings,
when the difficult, self worshipping egos cloaked in
religious righteousness return and clamor for obsessive attention,
when the sickness, the poverty and the inability of my own
brokenness returns and I see myself with hatred and sadness…,
Tell me how I can fit the architectural depth of the uncommon peace
that the night offers into my Dreamer’s starry, murky, unspoken heart.
The night is when I truly desire to live,
the day is but a labyrinth for me to maneouver through.
I am clueless and lost, who are all these strangers..?
Why can’t I remember their faces..?
Who will remember me..? Who can look past my mask..?
When will God appear to me…?

– The Poet of the Unseen