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The path we followAmong these hunters,Will be our doom.For our hearts are made of clay,And for all our similarities,Theirs are made of iron. – Arsh
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Crimes of passion run amok,Spreading chaos through the land.Yet this bubble of peaceWe have found ourselves in,Remains untouched.We might not live forever,Nor would I ever want to.Yet for the time that I still live,I will spend it with us together,Until death do us part. – Arsh
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In this ballroom,They are bride and groom.But it truly seems,That this arrangement attracts doom.For they are but puppets,Forced to dance on a never-ending stage,So they play their parts to perfection,Praying that someday,Things will change.For whom are you putting on this act?To which great masquerade artistAre you trying to prove yourself? – Maya Desdemona
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Call me around to Your point of view,I’ll sigh and just follow.It’s exasperating,Infuriating,Yet it’s all I know.Taking more and more,I’ve given everything I have,What more do you want of me? – Arsh
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I have never understood the concept of ‘belonging’.How could any thing, Or being of this planet be assigned to anything? Who would decide that? What would it mean to that person? I have noticed that it often becomes a part of their personality, But what is its relevance? What is this ‘belonging’ to begin with? – Maya Desdemona
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Pessoa once wroteIn his Book of Disquiet,That “Only the imprisoned,With the fascination Of someone watching ants,Would pay such attentionTo one shifting ray of sunlight.”At first I begged to differ,Stating my reasoningThat great poets were never once caged,But the more I thought on the matterThe clearer it seemed to me,That the only cage holding such a…
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Your mechanical typingTruly resembles clockwork.Although I am awareThat you are, at present,Heartlessly and mindlessly at work,I cannot help but compare you to clockwork.The many gears of your mind are turning,Your hands continually typing,Your soul is now nonexistent,And your heart seems to have failing power.Such a lively person so lifeless,Can even strike something called pity,Yet I…
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Claustrophobic expectationsSet the tone for how things will go.Making things up just toSet the score down evenly.Understanding anomaliesIs a way to make us all insane.Not everything has an explanation,Evocative imageries live endlessly on. – Arsh
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I am here,Though my mind is anywhere but.That mind refuses to be cagedIn the tight confines of the cranium,And freely roams the world.The tragedies of OldAnd comedies that are newAre where you will find mine,Forever seeking entertainment.Oftentimes I wonderWhy it leaves me behind.Take me with you, dear mind,Don’t leave the flesh behind on this planet.Yet…
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Luminousis 