Amaranthine; a blog of original poetry

 I thought I'd change.. But no. I'm a storm  Raging amid a field of sunflowers Without going yellow. I'm a dew falling off a leaf, Having nothing; Absorbing the colour of whatever supports it. I thought I'd change.. But no. The winds blow for the sails to catch it, But the boat has sank. The sun knocks on windows And I pretend not to hear. I thought I'd change.. But no. The parts of this broken ship will continue to float, Not allowed to sink; Staying there, Becoming the water itself With much pain.. With much pain..

 White curtains, Yellow light, And a couple dancing; One only sees the shadows from the outside. White curtains, Yellow light, And the rose on the sill letting go of a brown petal, Like that scene from ‘The titanic’; Going down in bubbles without air, Going down dancing, Holding hands with the still air Until it too lets it go. The brown petal lies there, Moving a torn edge one last time. The brown petal lies there, Stepped on by the dancing couple Unknowingly... It is their fate too.

 I walk through a Chinese street; Red lamps, yellow lights, Bearded dragons on wooden roofs.. I walk through a Chinese street; Red lamps, yellow lights, And the stone road glistening in their colours, Like a blurred mirror reflecting the world; Like a blurred mirror kept in the mall that stretches you And squishes you Into walking spaghetti. And like the mirror, These roads think the world dances Like paint in water. Like the mirror, These roads think the world is an amazing place Without shapes, Without colours, All blurring into one. But we know how the world works... I walk through a Chinese street; Red lamps, yellow lights, And the stone road glistening in their colours.

 A white candle kept lighted in the dark, Melting; Pieces of wick going around in the flowing slough. A white candle kept lighted in the dark, Turning orange, Turning into black water Where the other flames wink their eyes Before going out One By one By one... Now the black water has no white borders or orange soul. Now the black water shimmers gently And rolls down the table. Now the black water Has become the darkness it was revisiting for so long. Now the black water which guided with the candle Waits for someone to slip on it And break their hip. Another white candle kept lighted in the dark, Melting; Pieces of wick going around in the flowing slough...

 I lie Covered in bedsheets, With one of my headphones hanging down; Curled up like a child in the womb Asleep Listening to his mother's heartbeat... I lie, Being hugged by the morning, Being welcomed by the mirror; A skull looking back at me. I don’t know what it's feeling, Because it has no lips to kiss. I don’t know what it’s feeling Because it has no eyes to wink. I lie Curled up like a child in the womb Listening to his mother's heartbeat... I lie, Being hugged by the morning, Wanting a real hug....

 The audience waits for the play; And the curtains part, And they go silent on seeing me at the table Drinking wine. They think they're watching me act; A lazy bum, A rock in a stream Drowning and surfacing, Drowning and surfacing; The leaves fallen on a still pond, Rotting away With the fish rising to the surface To drown in air. The audience waits for the play; And the curtains part. And I throw a bottle at them. The fools move out of the way, And the smart jump forth to grab it. Now everyone's drunk, And I keep being lazy; A rock in a stream, Drowning and surfacing, Drowning and surfacing...

 I stand on a mountain and see another mountain; Dressed in snow for warmth. I stand on a mountain and see another mountain; A lonely man sitting in a corner of his quiet house, Hugging himself, A rock wanting to pulsate, A rock very much alive Trying to blend in with the dead things around. I stand on a mountain and see another mountain. But there is a bridge I've to cross. But there is a bridge so narrow and missing planks That I've to walk on. I call myself tired and light a fire And wait to tomorrow. Tomorrow comes And I find the mouth of the valley wide open. Tomorrow comes And I find the bridge swallowed by the very valley that allowed it. I make up something for why the mountain I stand on Is the better one. I make up something And go back to the campfire to warm myself.

 The window swings open; The frost is melting away, Rolling down. The window swings open, But doesn’t hit the wall. It stays between wall and wall, Locking arms with the wind Amid his song, Amid the fragrance of bending flowers. Somewhere, A sail dances with it. Somewhere, Someone's untied hair does so too. The window knows this. The window sees all this. Yet it moves its feet to the rhythm, Because it removes the frosty tears And reminds that there are fingers that can hold And eyes that can stay dry. It moves to the rhythm, But doesn’t hit the wall. It stays between wall and wall, Locking arms with the wind....

 The brown bottle once had medicine, But now it ‘s placed on the white cloth, Filled with water, With a dull flower on its mouth; A flower which was once yellow, A flower with a butterfly always on it, As if it was a part of it; A limb, A bead of sweat. The brown bottle once had medicine, And now it has water to give life. But what it does Is make the dead flower rot away faster After inhaling any fragrance the flower has. What it does Is to dampen petals and darken colours Until everything is wet and black.

 I see a window, And I see the vines creeping up on it. I see a window with a border or bricks Ashened by the grey winter And grayer eyes that look at it. I see a window, And I see the vines creeping up on it. One day it creeps in through the sill And gently touches the pane, Cracking it. Another one creeps up from the top And gently touches the pane, Shattering it. Now the creepers grow robust and slimy and thick, Like a kraken bringing a ship down. Now the creepers grow robust and slimy and thick, And go for the little baby asleep in the crib...

 Life gives me a pill, And I see the green grass red. Life gives me a pill, And the buildings move up and down like waves. I look through swirling glasses And hear snakes sing. I look through swirling glasses And see a horse on a chair on the sidewalk, Playing the harmonica. I trip and fall And I see blue light Coming from tentacles on my face; An orange octopus Sucking out life and flesh, Leaving me a skull That sees only darkness.

 His face has shrunk And his nose now stands out Like a  fish with a cigarette. His face has shrunk And the lips have curled inwards To guard the teeth still standing. The cigarette keeps burning And the fish refuses to drop it. The cigarette keeps burning And kisses his lips black, His face black, And his eyes hollow and soul-less. His mouth lies open And the little soul that remains Escapes From a body That has sinned to itself.

 I’m weird; A tortoise with a toy cap, Hanging boots, A blue orange Kept by the window, Devouring the sun Until it becomes its original colour. I eat pink pills And wear glasses that blind. I see octopuses on walls And spaghetti in Bath tubs. I see the world as it is, And they say I'm crazy. I see the world in all its chaos. They see it too, But saying they see it Makes them crazy as well. Saying they see it Will push them into it forever, Just like I am. I’m weird; A tortoise with a toy cap, Hanging boots, A blue orange Kept by the window, Devouring the sun Until it becomes its original colour.

 Little yellow flowers in Little hands, A violinist in a bleak room playing sad, Lights speeding away As you're carried to the emergency room on a stretcher. Life goes on and watches as these things repeat. Life goes on and you're lost in a subway of shadows; Laughing without lips, Holding briefcases that aren’t there. Life goes on Like spiralling stairs. Life goes on Like a string-less kite. Life goes on And we see again The little yellow flowers in Little hands, A violinist in a bleak room playing sad, Lights speeding away As you're carried to the emergency room on a stretcher.

 A basket of sunflowers on the bridge Looks down at the roaring River. A basket of sunflowers on a bridge; And one of them falls into the water. The others try to look down, And they all fall. The others try to look down, And they join the river and take the ride. But they separate With the river's many branches. They separate And the water calms down. Then they realize the water won’t carry them anymore. Then they realize they can’t swim. Then they sink, And meet everyone underwater Just for a moment, Just for a moment...

 Night, The black water, And a light in it that can’t stay still. We are ordered to not look back. We are ordered to identify the shape of the lamp Just by looking at its light. The water tries to swallow it but cannot. The water's terrified. Usually Everything heavy sinks And everything light dissolves to become the water itself. But this light stays, Riding the very hand of waves trying to drown it. This light stays, And tries its best to stay still So that we can find the shape of the lamp, So that it can let itself be dragged below And escape its struggle. But we never find the shape And the light keeps struggling Until it's eventually swallowed by the sun; By light itself.

 We want dinosaurs and life gives us their skeletons; Skeletons where everything except the skull is hand-made, Skeletons just a bit taller than us, Skeletons we can knock down Even if they come alive and chase us. We want dinosaurs and life gives us their Skeletons. Maybe the dinosaurs won’t be in our control. But the skeletons can be changed. Maybe the dinosaurs will eat us and not what we give them. But the skeletons don’t eat at all. They don’t chase, And we don’t learn to run because they don’t chase. We feel our legs quiver, We know they'll collapse. So we'll electrocute these skeletons to give them life, And everyone will think we’re crazy.