It's not difficult to think of plans,
Of contingencies for every scenario,
But we plan only for the worst ones.
I've heard that the brain reinforces your thoughts.
Positivity is built, and negativity, amplified.
I wonder what happens when you only think of the worst case scenarios?
The War Begins Silently
The beginning of the war will be secret.
There will be no parades or commendations,
No grand declarations nor proud generals boasting.
No vaunting valour for the brave soldiers
Marching surely down to their doom.
The beginning of the war will be secret.
It will begin as these things always do,
Slowly marching to an inexorable doom.
A flower's petals gradually unfurl,
And the dominoes to be toppled are all placed.
Back door deals and under the table betrayals,
The beginning of the war will be secret.
– Arsh
Tailored
Did you know that tailoring,
the word, comes from taliare,
a Latin word meaning 'to cut'?
I could write the metaphor
Explaining how being tailor-made
For you was cutting me away,
But I don't think I need to, do I?
– Arsh
Unfinished
Half-remembered dreams
And unfinished soliloquoys,
Keeping my quiet
And I won't let you in my life.
But what have I done
To just leave this all alone,
Even with all of this time
My life is still not my own.
– Arsh
Ode To The Burnt (Matchstick)
Are you a burnt little matchstick?
Struck against scraping sandpaper
Till you shine bright enough to be a star,
But the joy of being enough is robbed by the end, without going far.
Burnt, crippled, broken, and used,
Now showing no more potential nor promise,
You are thrown away by the world,
Tossed in a pile without a thought,
The light you brought, they forgot,
So they have simply left you to rot.
-Maya Desdemona
Loss
I suppose there was truth when Calpurnia said:
"The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes."
For as I stare out my window,
Glancing at heaven above and ground below,
I see white lilies mourn the loss of a kind soul from this world,
And the mighty heavens themselves stand in shame at their helplessness.
On this day
A great and kindly spirit was robbed from this Earth,
Far too early, sooner than one would anticipate,
And simply...
That.
That spirit has left this Earth, and left us mortals in its wake
As fleeting as the picture captured
With these gifts called memories.
-Desdemona
Lured By Promises
Come on in,
Dip your toes in this-
Though I can't promise that the water will always be fine
In this tumultuous sea,
I will be your net,
Your safety boat,
Your clamouring hand
That reaches the shore,
That life-guard's vest
With a red whistle to blow
A calm embrace,
A caress to the face,
But while this siren says...
Your drowning I cannot replace.
– Maya Desdemona
The Real Monsters Remain
Fret not, little child,
The monsters under your bed are long gone,
The next monsters you must fear
Lurk within the minds of men.
It enslaves their heart,
And lives off their soul,
Construing their figures beyond recognition.
Turning them into a shell of their former person.
Fret not, little child,
Such monsters are a part of life,
They live within us all and live all too well,
For why else would poets of old admire your innocence,
Your childlike wonder, lost to the seas of time?
– Maya Desdemona
Nocturne
Sweet Nocturne,
She needs not the light of day,
Nor the labours that do not pay,
For with her she has numerous nebulae,
That keep her at bay.
She is oft mistaken with coldness and death,
But in her darkness one finds a hearth,
A truly limitless rebirth,
Yet one that blazes with solace.
It needs no light
And does not burn too bright,
So as to hurt your eyes
And feed you with all-encompassing lies.
For sweet Nocturne is Wicked
Man’s veil,
Though the many layers of her beauty
Enclose many in pain,
Those lost souls always searching for their way
Will always find themselves in that dark haze.
– Maya Desdemona, Arsh.
The Last of Survival
Treading through the
Rubble of a ruined
World, Our wicked ways
Ran us to our ruin.
Trouble comes to,
And our aspirations,
Like all our laws,
Come down crashing.
– Arsh
Luminousis 