The memoirs of people who’ve left this worldly abode.
The inhumanity stored
In fragments of books and in people’s minds.
I look at thee in contemptuous agony,
I see through your soul,
Barren and empty,
Like the desert which was once a lovely seashore.
You have your own labels and antiqued ways,
How naive to think that even heaven is ruled by a king in a golden throne?
That angels in white robes await men who have not sinned
And that Beelzebub’s wrath awaits all those who’ve led a life not prescribed by hypocrital fanatics writing the testament of old and new.
How insane we must be
To imagine the exact same camaraderie
Even after Death comes to take us away
All we ever see is what we want to see.
Picture by Debasmita Chakrabarty
Sorry for being the person you never wanted me to be.
Sorry for being the partner you never deemed normal and worthy.
Sorry for being the friend you never could flaunt proudly.
Sorry for being a disappointment for you and your family.
Sorry for being a ridiculous excuse of a man.
A hollow shell making sound but worth nothing.
Sorry for disgusting you with my cheap mentality.
Sorry for being so toxic to you and your soul.
People know me to be who I am not.
I am the worst possible man in love with the best possible woman.
I am loved by her even after I have destroyed her in every manner possible.
Her patience is paramount and my paranoia is all she ever gets back!
Anxiety, possessiveness, anger issues and so much more
She suffered it all with a smile on her face and silence wrapped around her lips.
I left her countless times and yet she was there to recover me everytime I came back.
The world should know that you are an angel.
And I am worse than the Devil himself.
I can never be who you wished for me to be.
No matter how many times you buy me expensive ties and shirts; how can a man like me be good from within?
I’m a sinner. I am your sinner. Always was and always will be.
You’re my salvation and I’m your damnation baby.
To be continued.
They say a Man is different than a Boy.
They say that the eyes differ; one showcases imagination and the other hides the pangs of maturity.
They say that the face differs; one gleaming with innocent youth and misplaced pride and the other filled with the innumerable scars of life.
They say that the beard differs; one barely coming to life and the other hiding a whole world inside of it somehow.
A world sought after by everyone from the beginning of times; new continents and countries alike.
A world where the stars shine brightly in the night sky and the air feels like it is absolutely sublime.
A world fought for and protected with force.
A world found only through sacrifices and endless office tours.
The discoverer of unknown lands, unknown foes and unencumbered folklore.
The keeper of innumerable secrets and the guardian against merciless gore.
The protector of the weak and the upholder of truth.
The one who always feels everyone is equal in every sense of the word.
A forgotten king who’s kingdom has since been usurped,
A pious soldier who’s dying for the wrong cause,
An honest father who’s making ends meet even after selling his very own soul,
A nomad lurking about on the roads searching for the world he’d long lost his way back to.
I see him through my car window and as our eyes meet, the traffic lights turn green,
He smiles and through his beard I see the doorway into the long lost world.
The world where Boys turned into Men,
MEN who showcased true manhood.
Artist – Sakshi Jajodia
‘Look at the stars, look how they shine for you’
But there are no stars in the night sky. The city lights reflecting on the calm water makes it look like a starry sky. The city sleeps while the dreadful whispers are heard. The night is dark and the terrors have just begun.
A traveler from far beyond, traveling in a forlorn boat with no one for company but long lost ghouls. The atmosphere is eerily calm, as if it is the silence before a storm. The buildings are lit even when the city is fast asleep.
“Peculiar thing” the traveler thinks.
The horizon is blue, the end seamlessly far. The traveler muses to himself about the unforgiving nature of his past. The life left behind, the sins committed, the vows taken only to be broken, the face of death worn like a glorious mask on his face.
There seems to be no life around. An inexplicable fear creeping up on to the back of the man. Has he been here before? Passing the city that sleeps through the day only to wake up during the unholy hours of the night? He looks around and sees men, women and children; all looking straight into his eyes. He sees the fire of hell in them; they’re walking but there’s no life in them. They recognize him. He realises he’s been here before.
Following orders of the Devil, removing anyone who tried to oppose.
He has arrived. The final destination of his venomous soul.
The boat travels towards the destination alone.
No stars, no moon, no traveler.
Waiting for the next sinner to come aboard.
©the black curse
Artwork by Sakshi Jajodia (inspired by Van Gogh)
I think I’ve seen the place where the clouds are made,
I think I’ve seen how the elves make the snow rain,
I think I’ve seen the place where the stars take their shape.
I’ve been nearby yet never fully made my escape and I’ve heard the faint whispers of those who’re working there for ages.
I’ve seen the swirling smoke rise high up into the night sky,
I’ve seen the moon get shrouded and the Earth preparing to stand by.
I’ve felt the lights fade away and the cascades of my imagination illuminate,
I’ve always wondered if the world was just a minor gateway or is it possible that we’re all pantheistic?
My psychedelia seems to have taken over me and now I can say this surely..
Yes, I’ve seen the place where the clouds are made,
I’ve seen how the elves make the snow rain,
I’ve seen the place where the stars take their shape.
Artist ~ Sakshi Jajodia
Am I a word? Am I a feeling?
Am I a sunset dipped into vermillion?
Am I the wind? Am I the light?
Am I the one you can never fight?
Am I a sinner? Am I a saint?
Am I just a big nobody taking up quite a lot of space?
Am I a bird? Or am I the mighty sky?
Or am I an intricate droplet forming a magnanimous cloud somewhere quite high?
Am I the prodigal Son? Or am I just another Child?
Am I the Creator of this multiverse and all of humankind?
Am I gravity? Or am I the fabled high?
Am I a Hindu, Muslim, Sikh?
Or am I just another name?
Am I the upholder of religion? The cause of worldwide disdain?
Am I the howl of a lone wolf? Or the harrowing branches of a dilapidated house in the woods?
Am I the notes of the ballads from the countryside tunes?
Or am I the symphonic chirping of the birds during a sultry afternoon?
Am I the dead of a quiet night? Or am I a Monday morning shining bright?
Do I believe that I’m Nothing when actually I’m Everything instead?
Am I only these Questions? Or will I find the Answers somewhere ahead?
Am I the mighty Human or just another vessel of Nature instead?
~ the black curse via my identity