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Glassy eyes staring
Fingers sliding
Slowly, almost fearful
Air comes in heavy chokes

I pull my knees deep into my chest
My thigh pressed against my stomach
I feel the wave of nausea
And my throat is sick of self pity
So I hug my legs tighter
Crushing my diaphragm
Swallowing what threatens to escape

I follow the walks and runs
The skips and tumbles
The dazzling rainbow and explosive fire
The lazy drizzle and wailing thunder
All recollected, starched and pressed
In the book for stalkers.

I laugh, I cry, I pray and I plead
And I cry all over again

Like a drop of water from above
Splintering to a thousand more below
We now face different directions
Each on a different grain
And the rock that held us once
Is a distance too far against gravity
Against the laws of nature

But whether we weep
For the moon's waning
Or greet the sun with a smile,
The blazing fusion shall rise across the horizon
And the cold dark chunk fade into the blue
Until the day when the Earth shall tremble
And the sky is slashed into two

Summoning all I have
I push down my leg
Wipe the salt off my eyes
Realigned my vertabrae
Held up my chin

I clicked on the small red cross
And everything, everything dissolve
Out of my reach
Of my touch
Of my sight

They do not belong in my world
Nor I in theirs

I may accept and I may deny
I may smile and I may rave
I have the freedom to choose
But I was bequeathed a brain for thoughts
And I know that I need to let it loose
The Lonely Stalker
I found this in my journal. I'm not sure why I didn't post it here earlier.

Feel free to interpret :)
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There’s a man that I know somewhere nearby
Who now lives in his own little packet of life
His mind too simple to be bothered by strife
And if you don’t approach, he won’t cross your line

Two centuries ran past him but he was unfazed
Through the cruelest of mankind and fastest of change
He saw his works of imagination translating into reality
He made mistakes and tasted the heavy penalties

The little boy ran through the grounds of his home
The teen’s sweat was milked for Emperor Hirohito
The young man let his flag up to proudly fly
The elderly watched his daughters’ graceful rise

He stood tall before time’s strong blasts and blows
He was respected as a man who helps and who knows
He represented his land in the global court of unity
His eager heart contributed to the formation of his country

But as the tallest of mountains could be tamed to valleys
His strength now spent, his bones so weary
Not his daughters nor his wife he recall in his memory
He saunter through his days in his personal fantasy

So when the clock strikes twelve tonight
When others celebrate our victorious fight
I’ll be outside underneath the bright moonlight
Plucking little scented petals to be brought inside

People have cried for his loss of memory
They told me to be strong; they’ll be there for me
But I shan’t weep - I shall leave the petals on his knee
Let the jasmine speaks for his heart’s purity
Purity
For theLive-Love-Write writing prompt

I only use one of the prompt this week, the flower language and reflected on two: the anniversary of something unusual but important (which I turn into something usual but still important: Independence Day) and the ability to see the future (which I translate into how a man puts down his fantasy and make it into a reality). 

This week's prompt had me thinking a lot and I was writing a different and unrelated prose for this but ended up thinking about my grandfather. He was a great man, highly respected back in his home state. Even now, when we meet the people he used to work with, they speak of him affectionately. He was a politician and a diplomat and once represented our country at the United Nations. People call him with the local term of 'teacher' since as a young man, he travelled to Africa and Europe to work and study and even brought some kids, in whom he saw great potential, with him to further their educations abroad.

But as he had gone through his taste of blessings and victory and all the good things life could give him in such a grand scale, he too had gone through some of the hardest moments in life, made poor decisions and tasted the bitter taste of regret. We believe that his amnesia is not physically based (influenced maybe) but is majorly caused by psychological effects. What he remembers evolves around the time when his life was pretty much closed to perfect: when he worked with the government, for the people, for the kids he brought, doing the things he love most - helping people. It goes so far back that sometimes he stares at the TV with confusion - not understanding what it is.

A lot of people - even my late grandmother - used to cry over his loss and tell me to be strong and love him all the same but honestly I don't see why I should cry. In fact sometimes I adore him more because he won't judge me - or if he did he won't remember it. Sometimes I tell him things I don't usually talk about - and he may add his own unrelated comments which would cheer me up. I could be as nice as I wish to with him without having to be bothered by comments like 'what are you up to?' or 'is this a bait of some sort?'. And when he's bored, he tidies up my dresser... or maybe try to and I can't find anything after that. And without all the problems life usually throws onto people, maybe he's finally having his peace. Or maybe he's thinking about more ways to contribute to the society as he always liked to. Who knows?

All I know is that - like the child he was when he took his first step on the Earth, his heart is pure.
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Get A Feature, Give A Feature

Journal Entry: Fri Jun 26, 2015, 1:01 PM
1. The first 20 people comment this journal, I will put their name and the three deviations I like most from their gallery on the list!
2. If you comment, you have to do the same in your journal, putting the tagger on the first place. The idea of this is not to get a free feature, it is to spread art around for everyone!

1.:iconmerleee:

Dragon by MerleeeReaching the top by MerleeeElegance by Merleee
2. :iconlyndaloyde:
Rubbles... by lyndaloydeBunch O' Pens by lyndaloydeMorning Sun by lyndaloyde
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.

(I doubt it could reach twenty though :P And picking three artwork is harder than I imagined :P)


This Journal Skin was made by MaurogDark based on design by Night-Beast
  • Mood: Pain
  • Reading: Death or Glory
One bright evening when the sun refused to set
In a trick played by fate; two paths intersects
Walking down the sidewalk, hands blocking the rays from her eyes
Looking up and staring into another pair that she recognises

Like a mirror reflecting the tie that held them, both draped in black
And both had not a shred of doubt on who is gawking back
But like a the rage of storm that tore them apart the cars won't give them a chance
So they stood across the street, locked in a hazy trance

Chorus:
I hardly would have known you now
My mind is bursting with questions I couldn't think how
What happened to you? Why didn't you call?
Are you happy with what had happened to us all?

Did you think of me like how I had thought of you?
Waiting by the phone wishing I could get through?
But why didn't you make a move
Unless it's true that you broke me too?


Almost can't believe it has been ten years ago
When I looked into her eyes, not wanting to let go
This friendship we shared locked by flesh, blood and care
I made a promise, I made a plea - but my mouth was glued I could not speak

Perhaps she didn't know perhaps like me she waited too
But the things I saw, the news I've heard - it's hard to believe it could have been true
All this mess is breaking my life and she never stood up to keep our ties
I don't know how to argue with the voice inside that tells me all that she said was lies

Chorus

Repressed and subdued held back by the consequence,
How many times had I regret that I kept up with the pretense
But the tension was strong and we stood there tortured by fear and despair
And all that we did was freeze in silent stares

And now the years have gone by and there are stories I receive
The supposed sayings he now cries and the works of his deed
I ask myself again and again, could it be that he had actually known?
And had he broken the bridge I've been waiting for willingly on his own?

Chorus

And the rush of the hour had taken toll
The lights turn red, the traffic slows
The crowds push forth, they each take a step
And for the first time in a decade they're closing a gap

But the questions loom, suspicions raise
And although they never break their gaze
No more than a second - that's all it takes
For them to turn their eyes down and walk their separate ways

I hardly would have known you now
My mind is bursting with questions I couldn't think how
Why didn't you stop and call for my name?
Am I the only stupid pawn in this crazy chess game?

Had I been wrong to keep that hope for you?
That soon one day the call would get through?
Because why did you keep your silence
Had you not given your full compliance
To what has broken me?

Did you break me?
Did You Break Me?
A few months back, I had one of those 'movie dreams' where I witness something but I'm not actually there - as if I'm watching a movie that shows what the characters are feeling and thinking. There was a young lady and a young man - both university students who were once really close friends but in their early teens, something happened higher up in their respective families that caused their forced separation. When they last met during a 'meeting' between the two families, they were old enough to understand the emotions and sarcasms laced between the lines of the speeches of their parents but still young enough to not understand why. But under the protective gazes of their parents, they both did not make at attempt at verbal communication and instead tried to make all kinds of silent 'psychic' communications by the will of a child's imagination.

Fast forward to the present, under the stress of the mess he was thrust into, the man turned into a young ruffian who cared little of what people say and do as he pleases. His loyalty to his parents is the only thing that holds the tie between himself and his family but he prefers to spend his days with his friends, lazying about with smoke, pots and girls. And the young lady, a distinguished student, who enjoys a certain amount of fame from her well connected parents who push her into 'working hard for a reputation', is now the envy of her peers.

The boy who lives a carefree life without a care for his future looks at the girl's success as a snobbish life of masks and lies. His idea of a sensible honest person is a person who cares little for the judgement of others and speaks as he thinks without the need to hide behind a shade of pretense. Nobody is perfect and nobody is untainted by sins - so why bother to hide them?

The girl on the other hand, do all that she does with the idea of working in the public sphere for the well being of the public. She believes that people need an pillar to lean upon and a figure to look up to. She intends to be that figure with the intention of becoming an example and use her influence for the betterment of the future generation.

But despite the differences in their upbringing, moral values taught and how they view others, they were both still haunted by the friendship they once had between them and told themselves that their friendship was still strong, they never broke their ties. Their families simply pull themselves away from the other because they can't stand each other but once they have the independence, nobody could stop them from reuniting. But because of their different worlds, they soon have the suspicions (that they try to unsuccessfully deny) for each other. The boy believed the girl to have forgotten where she came from and why she stands while the girl believes the boy to be a selfish rogue.

Then one day after ten years of separation, they met each other across the street and this song is what happened between them and in their minds. Their stories are not alone - at least not in the essence. It's a tale of how childhood trust and innocence is tainted by the sick world we all live in to the extent of how they could not even 'follow their hearts' because how would they know that the other person had not changed and would not take advantage of their own naivety? How would they know if the person they knew at thirteen is the same person who they meet again at twenty three?

(Believe me - I thought of writing a story on this because a song simply could not tell enough. But alas, my story-writing skills aren't as strong as I'd like them to be and I feel freer and more like myself when I could pen things down into poetry - or songs since I usually sing poems out anyway. But unless I go ramble on and on - one song is not enough to tell the background of the story hence the insanely long description :P)

Again, I am bad with actually putting down the music I have in my head onto real instruments (like I can hear what goes on in the background but it's too hazy for me to know clearly what I'm listening to) so unless I could strike gold, I'll just do a recording of the song a Capella one day and add the link here.
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Post

Journal Entry: Tue Jun 23, 2015, 3:47 AM
Wow, it's been three months since I've last been on. The whole of three months when my life escalates from something more or less normal into a crazy crescendo - one which gives me nightmares (and daymares) and into a sudden moment of peace. Perhaps - I'm merely somewhere in the deepest core of the mess. People say that inside of the eye of the storm is calm (I think really heard it somewhere) so maybe I'm somewhere there - still not completely out of it but at least I'm having a breather.

I still haven't gotten my school books - but at least my dad did say something about getting it soon and for now, I've browsed around the net for whatever I could get for the syllabus. Yes, I'm scared - I'm scared that I'll fail. I think the chances of myself failing is probably not high but I'm still scared nonetheless. And the insane price of books isn't helping.

I wrote bits of literature here and then but not much visual art. I still haven't unpacked my stuff. Sadly, none of them are or 'feel' satisfying. It's like my brain doesn't want to piece out something nicely done. But I'll look for something decent to fill up the long absence.

At any rate, Ramadhan is here. Ramadhan Mubarak :) 

This Journal Skin was made by MaurogDark based on design by Night-Beast
  • Mood: Artistic
  • Listening to: Ten Feet Tall (Heather Dale)
  • Drinking: Ginger Ade

deviantID

Tiaricale
Sara
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
20 years old girl who is learning to balance imaginations with facts. Born into a family of passionate bookworms and the eldest of a pack of writer wannabe siblings.

Oh, and my works are always open to critiques and comments, I need someone to point me the way :)
Interests

Get A Feature, Give A Feature

Journal Entry: Fri Jun 26, 2015, 1:01 PM
1. The first 20 people comment this journal, I will put their name and the three deviations I like most from their gallery on the list!
2. If you comment, you have to do the same in your journal, putting the tagger on the first place. The idea of this is not to get a free feature, it is to spread art around for everyone!

1.:iconmerleee:

Dragon by MerleeeReaching the top by MerleeeElegance by Merleee
2. :iconlyndaloyde:
Rubbles... by lyndaloydeBunch O' Pens by lyndaloydeMorning Sun by lyndaloyde
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.

(I doubt it could reach twenty though :P And picking three artwork is harder than I imagined :P)


This Journal Skin was made by MaurogDark based on design by Night-Beast
  • Mood: Pain
  • Reading: Death or Glory

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconbattlefairies:
BATTLEFAIRIES Featured By Owner 2 days ago
Thank you for Favouriting! This means you can now ask the Djinn TWO questions --> 'Ask The Djinn' stamp by BATTLEFAIRIES <-- clicky clicky

The Djinn will answer truthfully and to the best of her considerate abilities!
Have fun (and come back often)!
Reply
:icontiaricale:
Tiaricale Featured By Owner 2 days ago  Hobbyist General Artist
Ooh! This is fun :D

Indeed, I do intend to come back. Your poems are hilarious and really nicely written
Reply
:iconbattlefairies:
BATTLEFAIRIES Featured By Owner 1 day ago
I hope to make more of those in the future, but they have a habit of happening when they want to happen so...

Thank you for your support!
Reply
:icontiaricale:
Tiaricale Featured By Owner 1 day ago  Hobbyist General Artist
Indeed, I agree with you. Good poems come as they please - like good Djinns I suppose.

You're welcome and thank you for the opportunity to face the Djinn *trembles*
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconavalonsongbird:
AvalonSongbird Featured By Owner 5 days ago  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thank you for the fave!!!!! :hug:
Reply
:icontiaricale:
Tiaricale Featured By Owner 5 days ago  Hobbyist General Artist
You're welcome :) I love the zafara's costume and the details.
Reply
:iconavalonsongbird:
AvalonSongbird Featured By Owner 1 day ago  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks, I'm so glad! Details are something I've been trying to practice lately, with drawings like these, because I don't really have the patience for them =P
Reply
:icontiaricale:
Tiaricale Featured By Owner 22 hours ago  Hobbyist General Artist
But you sit through it so that's something to be proud of.

I don't have the patience for details myself - but I rarely force myself to sit through it :P I'd rather go and pick up my knitting needles
Reply
:iconsparksthecomic:
SparkstheComic Featured By Owner Jun 26, 2015  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for all the faves :)
Reply
:icontiaricale:
Tiaricale Featured By Owner Jun 26, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
You're welcome :) You've got great ideas.
Reply
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