Verbatim

[Querida]

left unsaid
letters strung together
break, swim, falter and re-emerge...
the palimsest of guilt.
is it sin?
is it stupidity?
is it vain to judge words,
that are not written with care and flourish,
indecipherable scribbles vye for the attention of one.
even ink cares not to flow steadily,
their meanings too trivial to spell out,
a line , a word , an idea long left unsaid in the way you pronounce it
so stubborn they remain struggling towards
what was first sparked.
and now lay hidden and intentionally lost
its themes too proverbial to leave unmarked.
influences interfere breathing ignorance as their will
yet writer too is guilty of burying alive
that which is safe from ridicule
better left unsaid or so it is convinced.
but how does one know unless one utters...splutters
scratches out weakly the mundane
to trick the naive
yet still cause magician to wonder
is this real?
is this mine?
who speaks for me?
who keeps me from glory with the little that i know?
the little i ache to share and hunger to cherish as one's own

all that it contains is life
how true, how not, how so?
and anything to say that is not what i meant at all.

[xlntbarani]

Hi.. Q..

Its been long .. we crossed..


I dont understand....

Why you left Scribbling ... Miscellaneous

and "actually" I dont understand what you "exactly" mean

In what you wrote now...

I dont know whether I am not in Mood or to read the lengthy one...

But Its Pure for Sure.. I never understood your total work.. ever...
but i fell between lines...


xlntBarani

[Querida]

i had misc. scribbles deleted by mod for some hopeful reasons...check your pm

as for the poem it just is my way of saying how impossible it is too let go of a poetic idea...and how it taunts you for forgetting it (at times on purpose) by only coming back as a line or a word...this is how i felt after letting go of misc. scribbles...even though it was totally my decision...glad i'm back...make a bit more sense now?

[Querida]

Pathetic are her cries
That sound throughout the room
Her own inferiority
A trigger for another’s torture.
Empty threats for decreasing pity
Reminding one of the utter emptiness of Want
...if it weren’t for Need...
Why would anyone endure
This on-going unsensical
Grating on gratitude.
<Manipulation of the highest standard>
This is not the time to point out:
Overacting.
Of blatant wrong and nonsense...
Outwardly sympathetic;
Inwardly cringing from the length of endurance.
<False-faced to escape formulation of reason>
...Do not meet her eyes...
As she voices rotten platitudes
too worn to ever find an aching home in heart.
Too wary are her everythings,
Too dead her dreams,
Too unspeakable her unforeseen errors,
<In simply going down the path of ironic life>

[Querida]

Is normalcy just numbness?
Only pain can tell.
Heightened sensations at the cost of discovered in-dis-uncomfort.
The throbbing of heart only realized as it echoes through one’s head:
Pricking sharply, Wrenching slowly, as it reverberates.
Interest is feigned only when it tramples throughout the body.
Invisible yet instrumental in releasing sense obnoxious.
How pill pleases those who are ill:
Never mind the effects that do not take a side.
It is: placed,wetted,diluted,mixed,pushed,forced,gagged,s ucked,sunk,drowned,distengrated:
To numb.
To return one to the norm:
That never is defined.
To return one to fullness, wholeness:
Of Nothingness.
Swimming colours interrupt solemnity...
Pulsing sounds deter away from fruitful thought...
Searingness cut off embraceful sensation...
Grace dismissed by swollen evidence...
This realisation makes one hope to see and do and breathe all good.
If only I were well...
This realisation makes one fool and lie and betray oneself
That this new way will be...when I am well
Where does all this go when I feel fine?
What is forgotten when one is well once more?
When one is one and numb once more.

[NM]

Q...romba nalla irukku! Really missed yr misc scribbles...but this is great!


Great beginning....

Pathetic are her cries
That sound throughout the room
Her own inferiority
A trigger for another’s torture
Empty threats for decreasing pity
Reminding one of the utter emptiness of Want
...if it weren’t for Need

[Querida]

you.
"yes...me" (pleading eyes) it's showtime.
what?
"well I..." (eyes down, blush) slow down, more emotion
yes?
"I was helpless...I didn't really know you for you until i went astray"
do you really expect me to believe that?
(nodding-nods) no.
I thought...
(meet eyes, peer within) check mate.
No not again...I won't be fooled
"yes...i swear" (anguish, pitiful pleading anguish) how dare he question
fine. what happened...happened
(look down, stay still) quick wipe that smile off
so what now?
"I....I need more time" (sigh) again more defeated and sad (sigh)
why do you need more time?
"hmmm....because." (shut eyes. turn head. dismissed) lies take time you know...

[Querida]

what is purity but the breath we breathe upon words
the sensations that trickle through our being
and glow warmly within
the air that caresses and unfeelingly lights our being
what is purity but thought that brings awe
that abandon that comes from sinking in bliss
and not once caring if the heart will beat once more
purity is silence so perfect that perfection would mar its very sense
the countless colours that burst upon the darkness
and live only in our dreams
the art that is understood by all and none
and music sweet music that even if it lessened the soul it still would tempt the ear to listen
the light that sparkles in a newborn child that surpasses all brilliance and that returns to the babes of age
what is purity but the breath we breath upon our last
without fear

[Querida]

is it age which has tarnished this man
loosened his tongue?
lessened his morales?
degraded his respectibility?
diminished his kindness?
has wear and tear and time done its deed?
no....only that stinging irrepressible bitterness of life and its thorny path
do i hate this one now?
no not hate...after all that has been done...
after all that has gone by
struggled and survived
no not hate...no not a lot...just a little
venom seeps into all those who are no less valient than you
see how quickly one forgets under his new jadedness
see how selfish one is to remember only his errors
see how my finger points, how my words sting,
even when inside i am only hurt because of
how the finger points and how the words sting...

[Querida]

what if angels cried
nothing would be but rain
yet what they cried for would all be in pure vain
throughout all their heartfelt teary pain
we will prevail in sin as ever the same
here we would aim to blame and claim ourselves insane
happy that we have started a chant
one that will echo and drown the others ones of still us
than the rain that the angels cried