Waves Without Sounds

When things come crashing on the shores of the mind.

Category: Poetry

Running

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I run from time.
I run from light.
I wish I could outrun your sight.

I run from the threads that bind me.
I run from you who reaches for me.
I run from your legacy,
From you who moulded me.

I run from your pretend-faces.
I run from your falsehood of choices.
I run from you, snake in the grass.

I run;
She runs
He runs;
They run;
We run away from you,
From your colorless world.
Through space and time we run.

We run
And run
And run
Some more,
United by this common action.

We run
Until we run into each other;
And together,
Run against you.

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Seeking Rest

I want to know if there’s a place to rest a weary soul,
And if there is, if I can stay until time runs dry.
This exhaustion is a fire that burns and consumes,
Voracious, rabid, unstoppable, unextinguishable.

Every inch and every atom, every element that makes me
Have all been stretched, have all been stressed,
And throughout my being,
I can feel a sense of dull deterioration.

Life has been naught but ceaseless toil,
With miniscule windows of breathing rests,
And even smaller room for joys and trivial delights–
All terribly disproportionate to long periods of struggles.

Hence, this life is not a war waged between us and them,
It is mostly a battle raging against wear and tear,
Against my might and sanity, against my roots and legacy,
Against my ego and my id–a war between me and myself and I.

How nobly foolish it is to fight against my outside foes
All the while I struggle with my very own being.
I am doomed to die in the throes of defeat
Either in the hands of foes or my very own.

And so I ask again if there be a place to rest,
So I can stay safe from any woes–
Safe from my own flame
And theirs.

In Pain

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There’s an ache and a drought
I can feel in my heart,
It refuses to go away.
I endeavor to cry,
But my tears have run dry,
Although I try everyday.
How to express
This emptiness
Which, in my soul, has come to stay?

My love says I am too generous,
Have I given all of myself away?
Father says I am in the wrong place,
Have I really gone astray?
Meanwhile, mother keeps mum and merely watches,
Have you really none to say?
I wish I could cry,
But however I try,
No tears would come my way.
I wish I could scream,
But now it does seem,
My voice has been locked away.
I could laugh, I could smile,
But I’m detached by a mile,
How long has it been this way?

How long have I been ignoring
The emptiness that’s gnawing
At my entire being?
It has always been here,
Slowly consuming
Everything I’m feeling.
I am exhausted,
I am lost,
And I am not my own.
But I can’t surrender to myself,
I shall fight until it’s won.

Lament of the Listener

I hear your voice and let it wrap me,
Soft as velvet on a winter day.
How sweet, how soothing, yet melancholy,
The way you sing what you try to say.

When I hear you, I also feel you,
And it strikes me with a strong desire
To break your loneliness and heal you,
And become my Orpheus’s lyre.

But you and I– we are both broken.
We are both lonely and listless souls,
Who– from long dreams– have not yet woken,
And are yet to find their own controls.

How do I know? I am sure you ask,
And now I answer you most gladly.
It’s in your music I always bask,
Day in, day out, I listen madly.

Oh, if I could only count the times
That I have drowned in your sweetest voice
And been trapped in your poetry’s confines
When I saw there was no other choice.

You can never measure my longing
To see you smile solely meant for me
For even once, it’s better having
Than these little dreams that cannot be.

How I wish to share your solitude–
To take part in your melancholy,
To join your thoughts in their quietude
And touch your art, your muse most holy.

My Name

Take off that mask. You are alone, there is no need of it in here.
Take it off now, careful though, you must cover your deepest fear.
You do not want to ruin it for there is still the dark tomorrow
Where people would scare you for a glimpse of yourself weak in sorrow.

There, put it aside where it is safe for the time being.
Here is a kerchief made for you, cry while they are sleeping.
It is dark now. Muffle your sobs, we don’t want them to hear
Of all the pain you kept inside, my brave and gallant dear.

Cry until you tire of it. Cry until you slumber.
Weep until the tears you shed are same as stars in number.
I’m here to listen to you. I’m here to understand.
In the morning, I’d still be here to wake you and make you stand.

You may not talk, but I do know, you ask me for my name.
My place have always been beside you until our names became the same.
I give you strength, I give you comfort, but I don’t need your gratitude,
I gave myself to you since birth, I am your solitude.

How

Love, how you slay me.

Smothering. Overwhelming.
How you fill me with grief.
How you please me.
How you make me cry.
How you make me smile.
How you make me hope
In what can be lost.
How you deceive me.

Love, how you hurt me.

How you breathe truth to lies.
How you enslave me.
How you crown me.
How you enthrone me.
How you make me beg.
How you heed my every wish.
How you make me feel alive.

Love, how you revive me.

How you make my heat race.
How you make my heart stop.
How you make me laugh.
How you make me glad.
How you grieve me.
How you make me melt.
How you make me whole.
How you are my night and day.
How. How?

Love, how?

Orphic Musing

Are your eyes that blue?
Are your lips that red?
Are your smiles that usually sweet?

Are you always true?
Have your thoughts been freed?
And how do you usually greet?

Will your baritone voice
Say those bittersweet words
Of “hello, we finally meet”?

I wonder and wonder, and your song stops,
And another track begins.
And my thoughts fly again, searching for you,
That Orpheus who sings.

The Onset of the Storm

A chill permeates the air
And seeps into your bones,
The storm has come upon thy shores
Now it is time to face her,
This force of nature
That heeds no one,
That recognizes not
Whatever war is being fought
Wherever she was led.
O weary warrior, how do you fare
At the onset of this storm?
See how the rain assaults
Thy obscure battlefield;
Hear how the wind howls
As if to introduce itself
As your new opponent;
Feel, fearless child,
The cold gnawing at your fingertips.
The storm has come,
Have you enjoyed the calm,
Have you prepared during
The calm preceding this?
So how do you fare, fair fighter,
Now that you face
This unrelenting onslaught?

Detachment

I look without seeing,
Hear without listening,
I talk without really speaking.

There is a dread in my heart
That sends my mind reeling
Into an abyss of wretchedness.

I detach from my own self,
No longer my own,
Riding in the backseat of my consciousness,
While being automatically piloted
By the routines that make me.

I was slapped by reality,
So hard I was hurled away
Into the void of despair.

Until Tomorrow

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Tomorrow, love, when here you stand
Right in front of me again,
When I behold you at arm’s length,
When I face your amorous smile,
I shall kiss that smile, my love, I would
As many times as time permits.

When again, oh dear beloved,
I hold you in my arms,
I shall embrace you tight and close enough
For you to feel each ardent heartbeat
My being offers to you.

For as long as fate allows us, love,
I swear to never leave your side,
For you are my sole treasure, dear;
In your heart lies my happiness,
and in your love lies my bliss.

Although you leave me with each departure
Rich with fond memories of you,
By the time of your return, my love,
I have spent each of them in my longing,
Never frugal with reminiscing.

And so, my joy, tonight I slumber,
Eager to dream of you,
Eager to wake up to the day
Of your longed-for return.

Until tomorrow, dearest one,
Until tomorrow, my delight,
Until the day of our reunion,
I wait and dream of you.

For Fighters

When you live in the wavering of shadow and light,
When your existence is borne of imperceivable chaos,
There is but little refuge and rare reprieve
To refresh thy worn soul, broken and torn.
And so seize the little moments and thy mundane joys;
Make merry of the minute and simple and dull;
Do relish each second of uncaring carousing;
Allow yourself to forget but for the blink of an eye.
Such that when you return to thy veiled battlefield,
Your being has rested to renew its vigour
To fight for the world you have made for yourself,
To fight for your joys and loves and cares–
To fight, and to fight ’til the battle is won;
Or should you be met with defeat,
To know you fought fair and with grace.

His Anguish

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Cruel is fate to him who runs from his very own shadows;
To him who was born unfortunate, who must run from his own roots.
And yet why, we ask, did fate will him birthed to cruelty?
What has he done to merit this?
Or was it done unto him?
Is his birth a necessity?
Or a mere trifling joke?
Or misfortune’s melancholy?

The crushing dread towards his own being ever bears him down.
The crimson chains of legacy ever ties him down.
He strives to struggle but at what cost,
And at what prize to win?
What lies beyond that desired horizon that awaits
When he’s free from the burden of dread,
When he’s unbound by chains of blood,
And is it worth the strife?
This he’ll never know,
None of this he’ll know
Until he has lived his life.

Inebriated Dedication

This day, my dear, I dareth drank
To self-same stupor to banish care.
For love and longing lord o’er this lad
Amidst thy absence, am brought a scare.

In flights of frenzy I feign to find
A glimpse, a giggle, a gaze, a glance.
Perchance thy presence perhaps permit
A day doth daring thou darling dance.

My morning, midnight, and my mind’s mate,
My beau, my boon, my best, my bliss,
I fervently fight despite my fright
To forget how much you I miss.

For fie, there is no forgetting
How this heart howls to hold you so,
That even when in wine-soaked state
My being yearns to yield to you.

I love, I learn, I long and last
To have you here in my heart and hands.
Despite this drunken droning, dear,
My love forever understands.

No amount of inebriation
Can match how you, my love, provide
Affection and utter satisfaction
The way our beings do collide.

Note: I really am drunk while writing this.