Layers — [collaborative poetry]

Layers is old, layers is new
Layers is a wish or a dream come true

Layer upon layer of sun rays reign
Upon layers and layers of fields thirsting for rain

Removing a layer, atmospheric bliss
Adding a layer, attachments to the old, reminisce

Attachments overlap as layers envelop such bliss
Enamored as its embrace intertwines the intricate

Days to months and months to years
Feeling weak while boldly blooming, the retraction ever so near

Months roll into years into decades into centuries
Time is in essence layers of existence

While the layers unravel into the heart of the known
Sensational timing within a timeless sensation grows unknown

Mysteries of layers unfurl
Enigmas of galaxies within one world

Layered over layered dust,  created from dirt
Layers merge and emerge as beauty blooms from the earth

 

Ses and MG

 

 

(click here for link to Ses’ profile)

 

 

collaborative poetry for Mental Health Awareness Month (June)

 

 

Impulse Was His Weakness (Collaboration)

It was his only chance
He rushed towards the door
Impulse was his weakness
Thus he tripped onto the floor

Knowing who was knocking
He wanted to make an impression
Little did he realise he was bound
By a wheelchair and a confession

He picked himself up to get the door
To her surprise, this day she found
His confession was constrained
By her sentimental sound

With wails and tears she empathised
As her lover succumbed to the chair
A little girl tugged at her dress
And asked, “Is this man Daddy?” in despair.

 

Varnika and MG

 

 

Enjoyed collaborating this creative piece with an inspiring poet, Varnika
(Click here for more poetry and spoken wordwith audio)

The Narcissist and The Masochist

Such twisted bliss
A blissful twist
The masochist and the narcissist
She knows he will break her
Yet still lets him take her
For brokenness was all she had known
And heartlessness was where she had grown
Hopelessly alone, she drew her conclusions
It was a world without love, only illusions
A place overcome by untamed emotion
But her heart remained deep as an ocean
Seeking narcissistic love with its highs and lows
For that roller coaster is all she knows
Desperation, pain
Fear, and rage
On insecurities the narcissist feeds
Validating the ink that bleeds
Enabling the scars a masochist needs
Leaving wounds deeper than skin
Penance for her every sin
Until the day he bled her dry
And the masochist could no longer cry
For her evaporated tears left a stench
And the narcissist’s thirst no longer quenched
Thus he moved on, new prey to hunt
A planet with eight billion is more than enough
Masochists everywhere, they call themselves “humans”
Silver platter for the narcissist — salt, paprika, and cumin.

 

Collaboration MG and dichi_PoeTree

April 2018

Vengeance of the Souls

Beyond the fire of heartbreak
Where anger cannot be slaked
When rage does not consume the pain
But ignites, burns, fuels the flame
Even Death’s kiss, cannot hold sway
The offending malefactor, a penance must pay
Pay, but not an earthly penalty
To trade one’s soul for a dying memory
The anguished cries will not be heard
From vengeance’s path, they’ll naught be deterred
Silenced screams resound in agony
Echoes of retribution, stifled over centuries
‘Tis not mere chance, but insatiable need
Comprehend consequences, their counsel do heed
Vibrations of timeless truths unforetold
Warnings of vengeance…
vengeance of the souls.

 

MG ~ KB

Obsession

“The person who wrote this
Permitted me to post it
But only on the premise
That I keep the name anonymous”

Letter To A Lover

I’m writing this knowing that you probably won’t read it, and even if you did, you sure as hell won’t bring it up, so win-win for me. I get it out the system whilst helping you to avoid the responsibility of feeling like you have to care. It puts the choice in your hands, and I’d understand either way.

Obsession.

I’m like an addiction to you, a fascination, this idea of a person as if I’m from a novel or movie. Thank you, by the way, it is highly flattering.

Why am I writing to you about it? Because, darling, I can relate. I know how much it means to you that people can relate to how you’re feeling, and so here’s me, telling you openly that I completely understand your obsession.

I was obsessed with myself, too, once upon a time. Unsurprisingly, as well. You’ve felt it, you know why. Imagine actually being in my shoes where running is not an option. Where being surrounded and encompassed by my own presence time and time again is pretty much my reality.

Yes, I have people in my life who know me.

And I have you.

Well, I know you.

I don’t have you.

I’m not great with possession: I enjoy you, I appreciate you, but I don’t base the foundations of my life on you, darling. Romance should be an experience, an entertainment.

My greatest fear with romance is that I become anything more than a desire. I like the wanting, the longing, the obsessing. I could commit if I wanted to, my dear, to friends and to family. But romance, darling, romance is dessert.

And dessert is great in doses.

I, too, am apparently great in doses. This, I’ve come to accept as truth, with the amount of addicts who’ve overdosed on me and instead of healing, ended up poisoned. That’s not entirely my fault, either…a bottle of medicine doesn’t generally sprout legs and walk; it is picked up and consumed.

So my darling, I do understand your obsession.

Being with me is bordering obsessive. If you want me, and not merely the idea of me, then we’re just going to have to be okay with that, won’t we?

Signed with love,
Z.