Diary Poems

...
They have eyes
Yet they refuse to see
Beyond certain limits

Oh please, break these boundaries

Look from a point above
Above all those galaxies
Above all those universes
Above the entire world

From here, look below at the earth
Consider what the inconsiderate mortals do
Fighting over matters of clear insignificance
When there's so much to be done
So many galaxies to be discovered
So many esoteric mysteries to be unveiled
So many stories to be told
So many reasons to be found
So many purposes to be fulfilled

Consider this pathetic state
Of these mortals, prone to mistakes
It's a crabs' hole
None is let out
Those with vehement potential
Are suppressed under limited sights

Oh please,
Break these boundaries
There's so much to be done

....
I was blown asunder by the cold wind
Left beyond repair
Who fell in your hands like a toy
Which soon lost its touch
So it was thrown away to be recycled
Deformed to an appealing paste
The process continued
Till I was useless for good
I was blown asunder by the wind
Into another far off galaxy
To be left beyond repair
…in another life.

****************************
Dearest sweetie
You share that story
With countless others
Don't sweat it
You weren't supposed to have feelings
You weren't supposed to have dreams
You were only born for their pleasure
But since you saw beyond
Now either you live
Or revolt
And either way,
Choose you demise

....
THE ONLY OBSTACLE

There's only one obstacle
Between me and my dreams
Only one obstacle
Stopping me from attaining my goals
Only one obstacle
That destroys the sanity out of me
Only one obstacle
That is the cause of my unnoticed tears
Only one obstacle
That is the cause of my unnoticed sacrifices
Only one obstacle
That calls for all, and returns none
Only one obstacle
That has left me broken, beyond repair
Only one obstacle
That I cannot remove
This is the obstacle:
The cold fact
That I am a Girl

....
Searching for the ways
Which would end my misery
Waiting for the days
When I'd truly be free

It's a long walk from here and thereto
A journey in desperation
Continued with separations
A brutal process for a lovely cause

I am troubled to equip arms
Which will destroy the few left farms
I need strength, power of minds
To initiate this ritual, of endless possibilities

There's a force behind
In search for a leader
Souls waiting to depart
Cold words have torn them apart

Pull me in, or throw me down
And I'll swim off vigorously
But how do I jump down on my own
….into the unknown

(not that i haven't jumped in already...)

Autobiography


When I awoke that night
From a very deep sleep dreaming
And opened my eyes to the treacherous world
I realized how ugly it was

All was planned against my victory
Behold, the reciprocal of my desires

I was thrown away
Into a night of silence
Where I was lonesome, in the black
Chased by carnal eyes

Here I was left to bleed
Dry my flesh of broken leaves
In the course of healing eternal wounds
I befriended that darkness

When the world faked an exquisite future
I trusted it once again

My wounds had hardly sealed
Back I was left, cut open
With inappropriate sequences
An ongoing pattern emerged

Hi Naima

I found myself writing almost an essay last night in response to your questions about how I started writing. I've edited it down - but it's still rather long - hope you don't fall asleep before the end :wink:

Just want to say first, how much I like the poem Autobiography - your work gets stronger and stronger.



I understand this. At the moment I feel pretty much like I can't trust people.
It's not just trust either - I actually don't believe in anyone, or have any faith in those around me. Even the ones who think they can help me.
That's a damn lonely feeling.

I think it's important that you write when you're feeling down. I find that it puts everything into a different perspective. Sometimes I write viciously angry stuff and then destroy it.
But it's good to write when you're 'up' too. I find that I can be more focused when I'm feeling easier in myself.

You asked how I got into writing…
Well, I used to keep a journal and although a lot of what I wrote in it was basic information - rather than feelings, it seemed therapeutic none the less.
When I was told I had PTSD, I was pretty much determined to beat it - to get back on my feet. I started doing research on traumatic stress - which led back to World War I (study of 'shellshock').
I was amazed to learn how much creativity came out of that war.
In the trenches, men wrote poetry, painted pictures, carved wooden animals, made sculpture, engraved all manner of trinkets made from brass taken from shell casings; cartridge clips; shell fragments, damaged wooden propeller blades, and rifle cartridges - to produce artistic souvenirs. Others learned to knit, sew - even embroider. Tolkien began The Lord Of The Rings there, after losing every single 'pal' that he signed up with.
There they were in all that **** - yet they became artists or poets.
I suppose I became interested in how men were naturally drawn to creativity as a way of coping with their trauma - given that the army couldn't help them at all and they basically had to find their own instinctive methods for dealing with trauma.

Anyway, I got interested in the war poets - Wilfred Owen especially.
I realised that I could learn something from the First World War - about taking something really f*cking bad and transforming the worst of it into something creative. A cathartic process. Destroying demons with creativity rather than force.
Kind of like - taking the big pile of **** someone's dumped on you and growing the most beautiful roses out of it. Not to spite them - but because you don't want to carry their **** around with you and you can't put it aside - it's not that easy - so all you can do is transform it into something you can live with.
(Hope that makes some sense - I'm still getting my head around it myself)
To be honest, I think the best way we could honour those that died in WWI, would be to listen and learn by their experience.

Anyway, then I was on a train one night and I just began to jot down lines. It went from there.

Your poem (The Only Obstacle) seems very important and very personal. I'm sorry if you really do feel that way about being a girl.
If you do, then take heart and strength from knowing that you belong to the intelligent half of the human race. If women were running the world I know damn well there would be peace on Earth. (Which is probably why women aren't encouraged into politics). :wink:

But there are some terrific female writers out there - Arundhati Roy comes to mind.
http://www.smh.com.au/news/books/an-activist-returns-to-the-novel/2007/03/08/1173166881043.html
(I'll be putting one of her quotes on the Revolution thread soon - see what you think).

I'm sorry if life has dealt you some **** Naima, but don't let the bastards beat you. Remember, the tougher the **** - the more they throw at you - the better equipped you are to produce something fantastic from it.
It might welll be painful - but it's pain that drives the true artist and makes their work honest and universal - not being able to spell!
(At least, that's what I tell myself).

Keep up the good work
And thanks for letting me talk your ear off!

Peace
Endy

ps

I've been meaning to say how much I like your signature, btw.
That's a great sense of humour you have there, Naima.
Have you thought about writing comedy or satire?

Hi Endy
nice to hear from you again...

Thankyou

By the way. that ''essay'' is quite informative and very inspiring...thanks for sharing it.and NO i was not bored(just inspired by you once again!)



it is quite personal but it's more of a way of me gathering my thoughts...



*sits up proudly*
Dude you live in a much better part of the world then i do, imagine for a second how you'd feel, if you had many goals and the potential to attain them and you even knew what your destination was but you weren't even allowed to start the journey towards that destination because of your f*ckin gender...
anyways, i don't really feel bad about that as much as i feel bad about those so many others around me who have been opressed and can't speak out(dude, i'm screaming out loud)


nope, those bastards will have to learn sooner or later that i'm used to breaking customs and i'm going to rebel bigtime!they are the ones who should be worried...i have an entire force on my side!

did i tell you how much talking to you encourages me everytime? well it does...mostly because the other people who i've talked to about such matters (there aren't many) discuss the problem; you seem to have solutions...thank you!


that isn't exactly mine...i read it in an astrology book...goes for all Ariens!
(i wonder, what's you Sunsign?)
well i haven't really thought about it but i did write some comedy plays for school.though.....

Regards
Naima

Restart

Because of my selfish desires
i was,
chased away by hostile glances
forced within cursed pyramids of doom
to be stonned therein

followed out by ever hungry beasts
lustful for my bleeding body
i was vainly in search
for a place, to call home
taking my icy flesh and wounded soul
i dragged and limped
till i couldn't go any further
so i fell before your door

kicked by passer by's
half killed by alley cats and stray dogs
now i was near my eternal goodbye
though i had died countless times before

but just then you came to my rescue
a stranger saving me from myself

your motives were to satisfy your carnal needs
in desperation, i left this body adn my soul
and came back

to the beginning of another journey
like a restart
on the computer game

Pep Talk

Yes it troubles me to talk to you
Every time you remind me of that forsaken past
And curse me to shaking magnitudes
You confide me with secrets I don't want to know
And tell me how selfish I am
Then you abuse me from deep within
You sting my veins with cureless venom
And poison my boiling blood
You tell how I'm a dirty egg
And impure with negative intents

Then you just walk away
Not recognizing my state
And never caring to look back

So yes,
It troubles me to talk to you

Past Eight Years

I don't want to remember
How I spent these past eight years
The years in which my destiny was unveiled
Yet even after drowning in depthless pit
A mist remains, to obscure my paths
And the memories won't go away

Every time I recall that past
Ghosts of graved tombs encircle me
Cursing me with spells of hate
Pricking me for merest sanity
But the memories won't go away

Mentally disturbed and emotionally blank
I stare out at the wilderness
Pretending not to know
Supposing I don't care
Yet still, the memories won't go away

Everyday I live is added to that history
One that cannot be erased
Meditating on magics of change
Forcing insanity into my mind
I eventually realize,
These past eight years
Have plagued a history
And those memories
Will never go away

Ignorant

the night goes on
as i stare at the darkness
thinking of my fantasies of love
fading away...
into a world of dreams
then i feel your presence
you lay asleep
besides my dreaming soul
then i come back to this life
knowing cinderella was a fairy tale
and fading into the night
...like the rest of them...

(if only i could)

Nightly Routine

i have learned to live with pain
and grow in it
my flesh is used to open wounds
hate is prone to love my soul
in every state of vulnerability
i step into the world
and beat truth with its own lies
agony is like an old friend
while the darkness has its warmth

but tonight, i can't even tolerate myself
for those words which you have said
and the deadness in your emotions
have caused my heart to bleed
tonight i will surely die
**** *** ****
Like i've died every night before
(its my nightly routine)

cowardice

how much more should i love him
how much more should i care
he's getting too near
how much closer can i let him get
soon it'll all be over
my body will depreciate
he's moving in so fast
my objections will not last
how much longer should i bear this torment
i'll have to tell him, now or then
so why not now?
if i know he cannot love
he only knows how to lust
my words won't him
it'll only destroy my tale
and the fantasies i've been building up
since many days before
i can pull the trigger to his head
only it'll effect noone but me
there's no solution from this regret
but to flea
from this ongoing plea

my cowardice

Verbal SOS

i tried to scream in desperation
i leaned on false hopes
how obscure was that seperation
when i lied about promises untold
their sensous glances strayed me
my path remained distant
somewhere very far away

i tried to scream again
and like customs,
those words came back to me
the destination lay clear before me
but the road was left in disarray
their sensous lust been fulfilled
i was left at the place
i was picked that day

this time i didn't try to scream
but made my move
and liberated myself of this useless sedate
which seemed ongoing, at a restless rate

now i listen to others scream
open ears, i answer their call
from that enslavement
i make their withdrawl

(atleast i'm hoping to)

Suicide of her heart

can't he see, she's forcing it in
true, she's weak
but she's boring his torment, with a grin
the fact's she's on fire
suicide of her heart, from deep within
she'll never show
for his desires might grow
she begs him
in a silent plea
but he will not save her
from the suicide of her heart
after she fleas
he'll see
the pain he pleased
he might even freeze

after the suicide of her heart

the last one is brilliant.


So what about the prep for Cambridge exams -- you doin' somethin'?

yeah, shitting online!

you expect me to do something...haven't you spent enough time with me to know the answer to that one.... :wink:

anyways, speak for yourself
you're the one who missed 3 exams past week....

Whoops...
it slipped again

Might go for you :wink:

Love in Remorse

your words were so harsh
that i bit my lips
and drank the blood away
just so the feeling of remorse
wouldn't inflict pain to your tender soul

your sting was so sharp
that i sucked the poison out of the wouds
but swallowed it back in
just so the feeling of remorse
wouldn't hurt you sweet heart

your violence was so unbearable
but i bore it all in
and covered my open flesh
just so the feeling of remorse
wouldn't depress your hopeful mind

i could've taken revenge
or atleast tell you what you did
but i never made you regret
you love induced me into this guile
which i'm bound to carry on

the anguish you've put me through
the torment i go through
will continue, you left guiltless
but could you please consider my sacrifices
without it
my love seems untrue
but its due
only for you
and i hope this time
it arouses a feeling of remorse
so that you can love me too

Commercial Breaks

sometimes i become mute
out of words, out of thought
all my previous arguments
seem so pointless, so irrational
although those debates
would lead me to my desires
sometimes i have none
no passions no aims
life seems to be so meaningless
the battles seem to be neverending
yet purposeless
these are those few times
when i manage to escape my depression
that's when i figure
i was better off in dejection
fighting rejection, with constant opression
atleast i was doing something
such thoughts lead me
back to where i should be
not in commercial breaks
but in the screen play