a blog in verse

(this is
a first)

disaster-struck i am
bewildered once again at
why my soul, uprooted,
is restless, unendless
ly hurt by hacing
to familiarize itself within
newold four walls,
learn to call it Home,
(easy for some) but
it is my 9th move afterall.

i
had found solace
in Loneliness, the
unique requirement
of answering no one, relying
on myself, unencumbered
of social inclusion;
i
set my own rules, found
Joy (such a fool)
transitionary state of being
(i had forgotten) now
unused to public criticism;
i
feel attacked, violated, my
space non-existent;safety
of exclusion (mind soul all)
compromised; i
cannot prevent the
protesting insides.

do
i have right to be
angry? ungrateful
child; bonds of love
wish best even if
method unjust; Adjust.
your time is limited after all,
marriage itself is a new
war.

consolation is only
words (as is
criticism but) my anger
is undettered; i
do not wish (do not)
want to move.
it is not the liberty of
lack of curfew (i do want no
wrong) just
having to constantly
explain
myself; thoughts, feelings,
actions, behaviour; i
prefer instead to
kill the soul not feel at all.
old bitter at 21, they say
eeda, learn to have fun.




where to
begin? end of
beginning? or
beginning of end?
i
will not defend my
callousness; crime in itself
to release, unleash; people
(deserved, undeserved), having
cause is still unjustified.
(i do not wish to hurt) but
is it a right to fight?
for who i am, or think i am,
person
not allowed to become, person
already dying, undone?

forget eeda forget,
all that is said,
all that is told, uphold
patience, think
threefold of action,
control
tears anger hurt.
learn life's rule;
Ad-effing-just.

lumber

isn't just a word. it's

a state of mind, a

chosen preferred attitude

against life.wonderful

what the affix 'ing'

can do to words.

forward

doll, unroll your spirit from this hole
unfold wings springs make this
scream
mind vomit yellow yellow yellow
daisy blue lavender
don't hesitate; fate brings people together
or
rips them apart some
words needs melodies to proceed
like seal the deal,
heal and
feel-
ing is not a good thing baby...over
sensitivities will not break you free
proceed not with this idiocy.

may i remind you
nay, may i remind you?
caring too much is Not a good deed?

freed
soul: someone bitter callous cruel
shelled
on top. there is no value
for love, will you
wallow in love when
wallowed-out loves
are enveloped in grief?
please.
reap the benefits of distances to keep
speak nought of ill but drill
patience and kindness, naive happygood words
remain unheard. unheard. unheard.

Alien (ated)

Internal Retrospection necessary
Soul workings gone
awry. Dysfunctional
my mind, behaviour.
Unintentional arrogance?
is that the deterrent
averted eyes, change of focus
from them-perhaps
its all in the mind.

Come full circle, Eeda, you
are yet again on a lonely table;
someone else's leftovers for
company; fool yourself it was
your company (wasn't)
upgrade from school bathroom
perhaps, but
i still want to hide my face.

ugly child worthless child
brilliant mind, designed
for lonely space, empty
unfulfilllable.
no competition? lack of
matching wavelengths; you
look up at every voice
hoping it was directed at
you (wasn't).


Illusion Illusion Illusion of mind
confined
in these membranes- walls,
space
no one can enter, space
i cant escape.

i wait
for the one man who hasn't stood me down
loves
me for all the crazy.
only hope
keeps me afloat.

...........

the doctor of brains tells me he does not know how it is;
can i capture it how it is, can i say it how it is?
when all else fails but for the tears, he says. be a student. that comes first, right now.
i protest. but i am also a daughter!

you will always be a daughter.
(you are a student first)
it is this capitalism that they inject in my bloodstream, coursing like poison, but also the antidote to the grief at home.

things have settled down in a plastic,contained sort of way. bound in strips of clingfilm and social gatherings; we are a-okay.
..........................................................

my brain twirls gently between throbbing membranes, interlocking
spider veins, steely tendrils to hold
it in place.
my face
an empty spot
between the faces of others in photographs,
the blank space i wish i could fill,
but cannot erase.

i look at ghost albums displayed
frivolously
at my windowsill.
still moments of shock, surprise, shared
passion,
i will never feel.
locked, Pandora's box, my
heart,
concealed.

i was a girl, except

when they removed my ability to move, disapp

roved my right to excuse myself

from discomfort.

i was a girl, except

i was silenced, licensed

to be doormat, eternally, not

speak for my sanity.

i was a girl, except

they disrobed me of my human essence, vul

nerable in their presence, na

ked and shivering, ash

amed, at their mercy, a-quivering.

i was a girl, except

now, i am a woman.

without choice, without consent,

enforced role, profuse grief

no room to breathe.

-up and down it goes, where it stops,

ain't nobody knows.

he was always bemused to see
the calm oyster shrivel
in the face of the slightest purple
sunset.
and he always wondered how the dark inside
could be more comforting than the paler
blackness of the skies.

said the oyster to her bemused audience
the dark inside may be more frightening, but it and me are
well-acquainted, closest friends
these past few years.
the vast expanse of the sky is yet an unexplored
stranger, and fear
shuts all my doors,
even the ones through which the light may come.

sepia pearls are born, not out of beauty,
but out of the coal black fear.

pieces.

-on a business degree...

i'm
taught the obvious,cemented
in vacant crevices.Chase
they tell me.
chase and compete.
chase and
kill. primal
instinct. utter animals,
disturbing.
humans as dispensable
rats(race).
mockery of life
i
refuse
to chase, follow,
overtake, stab
in the back, smile
at my step ahead.

stroll by my side instead, i
persist, there's more to life than just
this.

-on a sense of acute lost-ness....

''sense of purpose'' forgiven self.
forgotten. 'Purpose'
Direction.Dictionary definition.
Lost, life explanation.
consquence of an aimless
pursuit when
unclear of who/what/where to pursue.
unworthy
of my time and energy and yet
i
run
circles circles purposeless circles.

your tone remains consistent mellow purple

mauve lilac lavendar

the subtle shades insinuate

your anger, displeasure.
.

i await bated blue breath

for the calm the storm or even

being stuck in your epicentre.
.

callous caring can indeed

be worse than cruel indifference,

or overwhelming love.

reflections.



pitiful obsolescence of my presence in your life, i am
the extra letter carelessly tossed in, typo
my existence, use
less, in words, sentences,
feelings.

All the king's horses, and all the king's men

couldn't put Humpty
together again.

My baby,
I wonder what nightmares darken the insides of your eyes
enclose your eyeballs with
swirling black anguish.
I watch you for hours, scrunching
eyelids tight,writhing
in white bedsheets as if you
unconsciously wrapped yourself in bandages
(before the war even began).
And I
too far to calm you with whisper
voice, or touch.


My darling, I wonder
what grotesque, appalling ordeal could possibly
make you whimper, so.
Your barely audible moans
chills the marrow in my bones, stiffens
fingers, blood. 
And I
too far to translate
screams to symphonies, laments
to lullabies.


My love,
you say your nightmares involve
me.I wonder what you mean.
Could love horrify the soul
into pieces, asleep? I
will not leave.
Do not allow absences to frighten,
fracture souls with fear.
When I
too far to suture pieces together,
Too far
to remedy,
repair.

the journey.

Momma told me to go get fixed, child. stay happy.
except happiness was not the cure.
So i went to see the shrink he said it
would help if i wrote.

It wasn't the cure, but I
plunged hands into my mouth and removed wads of
paper and tissue, old cardboard, magazines no one
wants to read anymore,
and still the words wouldn't come.
what came instead was mind-vomit florescent
green neon blue and daisies
in pink with frills.
think happy child, they had said.

i want to read she said
the cure, holding onto Pamuk, Ondaatje in hand
and Eliot leading the way across
vacant lots with newspaper scraps i am
an old lady. My soul is stretched tight
across the skies. Nut in blue, silver
stars i am afraid of the night it
reminds me of Him.

Cigaretteburnt

there is something oddly alluring darling,
in the way grey smoke escapes your lips,
gently let sideways, cascading into summer swans
eagles, through the holes in my soul.
fine lines, tight lipped, half sly smile.

barely concealable how your indifference,
seductive so, melts me into quiet rage
sometimes.
some other times,
intense yearning.

inconsequential your white
tshirt unshaved shadows the tie rack
behind you the golden cube round
your neck.
inconsequential
my observations but for the fact
they are about You.

everything has Meaning.

pinky edged nightmares bloom
into roses, violets, sunshine darling, when i
wake them to thoughts of you.
my nightmares cascading away like smoke darling,
away like ashy eagles, radiant grey
swans.



.

red gold dipped mornings drag themselves out of
pots of paint and sheer bluey skies
slash colour and spring across my open window i am
yellow gold blue on the outside red black broken
on the inside
i wonder if colours can explain feelings states of being
in ways words cant.

red is anger and black is grief
im spun of the twain consumed
beyond relief .

.


i am shattered like crushed butterflies coloured red
smeared across blank white walls my wings
splutter and fall under your feet
cement and marble
tiles and tears
there is no compassion in your voice
in your feet.



.

there is much to say
and not enough in me to declare it
i wish i could just
rip my heart out
onto this page
let the red rivulets map their own course, spell out
the way this feels inside right now.
your absence
makes heart sore and snap in
wooden splinters, newspaper shreds, glass shards,
sheer motes of
knife sharp dustsandblood
splashed on this blank white canvas.
elements forming stories, confessions,
vulnerable exposes of
spirit skin and soul.

(spiral red stains)

after all,
visual
graphic devastation
needs no more
feeble
poems, words,

explanations.

Eloquence evades me.


I find myself distressed, because I cannot
spew out pearls of such intense clarity they make
jaws drop in awe, eyes bulge with wonder.


Write to me some summer lines.


Write to me an ode to the days of yore.
when words and daisies
lined up my street with white sunbeams,
golden dreams.


Now even happiness leaves me uninspired.
oddly content. oddly hollow.
bated breath and tip-toeing eggshells to see
if it (when it) ends.


Suspicion.
Superstition.


Hollow laughter in hollow silences.
Hollow words.


I become become become
speechless.

I am the lovechild of glittery gold city night lights and illusive melodies on the subway.
urban child. city child.
child of the chaos. child of the beautiful .

child of the constructions which
lace cold pavement
and cold heart


stony smiles in gray water puddles.
stony imprints of people's gray souls.

snippet.

A spectator watching my own life on a remote t.v screen I am
too far to even try and come close and
reach out and touch myself to
feel me and pinch me and stare me in the eye and see
if i am real and i
am me.

and yet...

You find in me the girl I lost to the hands of time and eyes of men and
eyes of time and hands of men.

I lost myself to use abuse and scarlet
tattoos
of scars and wars fought, forgiven
and not
forgotten.

but you make me forget and you make me hope and hope
is not the thing with feathers but the bird of stone that
weighs me down and wakes me up and makes me wonder if
this bird of stones can fly.


i soar on these dreams and find the world
flying beneath my weary feet.