Bathtub Musings (Without The Scented Candles)

art by Paula Mihele on Etsy

I lay in the tub

I was just bathing

To the outsider it might have seemed

A scene fresh out of a horror flick

They said, 'No, it's not a trick

Look at her, pale and trembling

Arms splayed, fractured bones of a broken wing

Look at her sitting so still, wide-eyed

She's a form that can never abide

By time, by place, by reality, by universe

She's too much for us, she might coerce

Us, to sit there drowning with her for company

Let us thus abandon her, she is one, we are many

She cannot pull us down with her!'

I was just bathing

My chest was covered by the water

You couldn't see me naked

Maybe just the sticky strings, all vividly red

I was bathing and bleeding, you see

Because every word outside cut me

What had I done wrong? Was it

Really that awful to simply sit

And let them see me as I was?

Every person that tried

To lift me out, to stretch me wide

To fit with them, in them

Failed. And then lied in tandem

To the world that I was unfit.

Then some tried to sit

With me and clean me

And pull me into them, to see

If I would fold and lean

Forever into them, forever unseen.

They failed too, and lied in tandem

That I was unworthy of them.

All I wanted to do was bathe

And rise. And do everything

That I was supposed to have done

If they hadn't pounced and cut me

I wouldn't have bled and stared

And they couldn't have called me a ghost

I was in terror more than being a terror.

You see, I hadn't ever expected this, so

Maybe they were right after all.

Haiku Hassle - Part 2

(NATURE'S UNPREDICTABILITY)

Silver ribbon, endless currents

The river flows, around and away.

Surface beauty, beast within.

(SAD RELIEF)

Sweet scent, damp earth

Sakura swathe the weathered stone.

My sister is finally at peace.

(AMOUR)

Clear mirror, entangled curls

Cheek to cheek, back to chest, palm to breast.

A ripple. The memory's gone.

(NERO'S GUESTS)

The man cries

Flames roast, him and my meat

I belch and smile.

(BABRI MASJID RIOTS)

I am human

I kill Hafiz (Hey Ram!)

He is (not) human

(FARMERS' SUICIDES)

I can't burn

Mother has buried me alive

Fire is relief

(RAPE CASES)

It tears me

Man pounds and woman takes - why?

Oh, it hurts!

(RELIGIOUS BROTHERHOOD)

Singh and Saud

Brothers in arms, flesh, rights

Rights, not riots

(WHEN A LOVED ONE LEAVES IN THE WORST WAY POSSIBLE)

Why would you do this?

Red  drips, from vein to clear tub

Why would you do this?

(WHEN I MISS THE HECK OUT OF YOU)

Big black ugly hole yawns

And long stone white  path stretches

Achingly - without you.

New Year, New Life

Yes, we know that it's just another day. There's no massive epiphany, no golden revelation, no opening of the wardrobe to find a whole new world out there. 2015 will, for many of us, be the same mouldy old box, covered in posters taped to the door and filled with the same clothes, most unwashed and some never worn.

Yet, it's a new year, NEW YEAR, something that's never been experienced on this earth before and never will be. We humans are very good at branding - we can give anything a fresh name, a fresh identity, and put a spin on an old story to make it sound like we're listening to it for the first time, even if the characters are the same, the plot familiar and the turn of events eerily similar to something we feel like we've experienced before. Déjà vu, ladies and gentlemen. We create it.

It's when one reads Facebook statuses like, 'This year sucked. Hope the next one's better', that a gasp of a guffaw escapes the throat. No, friends, this year will not be better. You will have the same worries, the same inescapable sorrow, the insecurities which are but fraternal twins of those in the past.  Déjà vu, again. You re-create it in different packaging.

So I say, if we're so skilled at deluding ourselves, why not use that superpower for good? See what I did there - putting a Marvel/DC spin on things, the whole 'greater power, greater responsibility' spiel.  You see, we make the product, and we design modern packaging as well. So why not use up that unlimited employment discount - make something for yourself?

Do a good deed everyday to feel that warmth inside - which is just you patting yourself on the back. Read all kinds of books - especially the ones that reflect on every seam stitched in life's fabric, just so you can have those 'intellectual' conversations you've always wanted to be part of. Travel to get away. Learn to cook to avoid making instant noodles the only delicious thing in your life because you're broke. Make friends to get invited to parties so you can surround yourself with people, anything two-legged with half a brain and a heart and a human face so you never have to feel lonely. Plus, there's always Snapchat.

In short, do what you have to do to be happy. Make life the way you want it to be, so that every time you leap into the sea, you can pretend that each wave is a chance to emerge as something original. That you're not just standing like a fool as you become soaked to the skin. 2015, truly, can be a better year.

There's a Scott F. Fitzgerald quote that is especially significant at this point - “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” The storm will be ever present, the current forever unyielding, the boats tiresomely weak against the power of the waves. And yet, they continue to tread that treacherous water body.

Be not resistant against the flow of time, friends. Life will go on, each moment exactly like the previous. We're fighting a losing battle, but we're still fighting. Choose to live your lives the way you wish to live them. Choose to let go, to start afresh, to witness, what is actually, a new year.

Happy new year!

Goodbye, Autumn

Catch those falling petals,

One by one,

It's time to go home,

It's time to let time die.

Copper and rust

Ought to coat your palms

Silver and ebony

Ought to dot your forehead.

Sniff the air, my lovely

All warm and wet and soft

It's time to say goodbye, lovely,

Time to whisper a golden farewell.

It's the shifting of grey skies

And the rushing of cold dust

A pattering and thundering

Of heavens venting o'er and o'er.

Draw your coat closer, lovely,

Draw into your cosy haven.

Draw into cider and apple pie

And a smoked turkey with applesauce.

But before you go, lovely,

Take away a scarlet token.

Keep a crimson reminder

Of everything gone to sleep.

So you'll have a little piece of colour

To keep through the whiteness

Of a deep, deep slumber

And a silence reflected in naked branches and empty bark.

And when once you wake, my lovely

To twittering wings and delicious flora,

You'll know for sure, lovely

That Spring's sweet song has at last begun.

The Rant

I feel like, I feel like

I've come to this age

Where I've got to share

I've got to know

What you think, why

You say what you say

When I say what I say

I feel like, I feel like

Like drinking every drop

Of dazzling pop and quiet cool culture

And telling the world and telling you

Everything, every thought, every term

Every vowel, every word, every- WHOA.

Now that my tongue's had enough

My head says, 'Hush'

And then I join in this lay game

Where we all shut up

Some for a second, others for a lifetime

And I don't speak and you don't speak

But we're still shouting so loudly

And we try to see who can figure out

What we're saying, and what a laugh!

Because we're sharing alright

We're just not sharing aloud

So it's always going to be before sunrise

Where we think it's healthy

To rebel against anything that can be fought

And we're going to talk and not talk

And yell and spew on every surface through every medium

And we're going to share and share and share

Before the great green god of greed

Swoops down on us all

And sucks away the passion

And sucks and sucks and sucks

Till he's drunk with it all.

So we have fat bundles of green

But the anger and zest and the electricity

Have been shelled, peas no longer in the pod

As old with lines as we become though

We'll learn to talk and share and smile and scream

But in careful compartments,  unlocked for the right one

The right one who remains the written one sometimes

Or the written off one

I digress.

See?

As we grow old with lines

The rant stops in favour

Of taciturn tact and

Telling everyone to get along

Instead of being the one told to shut the hell up.

It's gonna happen, and it will and there's no fighting

I'll become crows' feet and quiet thoughts

Worried responsibility and rare laughter

But till then, oh God, till then

I'm going to scream

Till

Till

Till I'm red in the goddamn face.

Incubus Returns

The dripping heart cries
Alone, alone, pushed away
The heart is blocked with pain.

Empty sweep of sand
Only Vulture's raw cry
I am insane with fear

Thick, scratchy darkness
Boiling, overflowing
Stabbing my ears and eyes.

Now Vulture calls loudly
But he is invisible
Hovering, waiting.

I shriek, I scream
A silent scream just for me
And just for him above.

I cannot see Vulture
His talons flex in wait
I can hear them though

Run! Run! Run!
But where to? Ahead?
Run! Fall! Run!

To flee is to stay
In infinity, in loops
To stay is to flee.

Now Vulture circles low
Salivating, beak open
Swoop! Swoop! Dive!

I am so scared
No comfort in movement
No comfort in the still.

And cold sweat!
Wake! Wake! Turn! Pant! Wake!
My fingers clutch sheets.

I tremble
A reality rescue
From the abyss, again.

Oh, God, will this ever stop?!

The Dreamcatcher Verse

If you and I were to weave our dreams,

What a pretty sight would that be!

In silky gossamer and swirling filigree,

Each moonlit panel a portal to infinite possibility.

Vast azure oceans of beauty,

Evening balls with seraph, dryad and fey,

A lover's kiss, a promise of a new day,

A darkened path lit up by a sudden, inspiring ray.

Ah! But hideous phantoms cry out, too.

A hunter's moan, the prey's low groan of pain.

Fear in every corner, boon entangled with bane,

Chased by Death's claws, trying to flee in vain.

If you and I were to weave our dreams,

Let the moonlight break the fragile shell of our nightmares,

Let the burnished glow of our hopes emerge,

And let us sweetly slumber, without fear of dark traps or snares.