Dread

I listened to the winds roar,
yet no words made it out of me.
Concerned about judging eyes,
and what their thoughts would be.

I succumbed to my fear,
letting it eat every tiny inch.
The voice within me grew impatient,
my nerves began to flinch.

Why was I afraid?
Is judgment a thing to fear?
Are new faces really scary?
Why is my voice so unclear?

I wished to break free,
unable to find the right words to say.
The anxiety got to me,
my confidence wilted away.

Why can’t I face this crowd?
Is my self-esteem so weak?
If I am better than this,
then why can’t I speak?

Why should my words be driven,
by what others think of me?
Why should my actions be limited,
instead of being everything I could be?

Does their perception of me matter?
Does it really make a difference?
Why should I cower from them?
Why should I mask my brilliance?

Judgment will always be there,
there is no escaping it.
Shining despite judging eyes,
is a truth we must admit.

I feared judgment.
I cared about what people would think.
When I realized this,
all my worries would sink.

My voice made it out.
I roared back at the wind.
Shinning from within,
as my fear slowly thinned.

Wasteland II: Setting Sun

The land beyond was unknown,
my journey began when I walked.
New faces came before me,
each step I took was carefully stalked.

“You look so pale,” they said,
“Why are you always dressed in black?”
“Your words spell horror,
is it love that you lack?”

All their concern made me change,
the way I walk, the way I speak.
Once a strong and proud king,
I was reduced to being humble and meek.

I quickly learned their language,
my actions based on what their reaction would be.
Slowly I began to writhe and suffer,
for all my essence was sucked out of me.

I began dressing like them,
and tried to blend in with the crowd.
Silent whispers of wisdom lost,
my words became conceited, brash and loud.

Molded into their culture,
the lies of a lifestyle were too much to take.
Within these petty illusions,
piece by piece my heart would break.

Enough is enough!
I was trapped in this monotonous rat race.
In the bargain of being heard, loved and accepted,
I had forgotten my own face.

The world beyond is truly vicious,
this is where I must draw the line.
Free from the burden of feelings and society,
I must reclaim all that is mine.

I had resented isolation and solitude,
even though they let me be all I could be.
Being alone is better than being lonely and scared,
this truth my mind could clearly see.

With a smile I walked towards the setting sun,
to the deepest, darkest corner of Earth I would go,
and rebuild my kingdom of ice,
a cold, barren wasteland full of snow.

Wasteland I: Kingdom Of Ice

This winter wasteland is my kingdom,
the throne of ice belongs to me.
Sitting on it proud and strong,
I judge and govern all I see.

Nothing escapes my vision,
wide-eyed in all its glory.
Confined within crystalline walls,
tall and thick, they mark my territory.

The kingdom has no people,
my subjects are the rubble and snow.
Cold winds are my companions,
beyond these walls there’s nowhere I can go.

The world beyond is cruel,
vile humans stuck in their rat race.
Their filthy intentions must be severed,
memories of them I must erase.

Within these walls is safety,
shadows and darkness offer refuge.
The silence slowly helps me grow,
secure in the towers of solitude.

Nothing can touch me,
I do and say as I please.
Blizzards quickly come and go,
as I command them with ease.

Isolated in this vast wasteland,
my comfort slowly turns to dread.
What’s the purpose of expression and speech,
when no one’s heard a word I’ve said?

Light of wisdom pierces the crystalline walls,
the towers of solitude rumble and shake.
My throne quickly crumbles,
the kingdom begins to break.

The unexplored land beyond unfolds,
all my fears begin to fade.
Divine realizations dawns,
the kingdom was a prison I had made.

Façade

The void is always within me,
hidden behind this face.
Masked like a vigilante,
with a visage of disgrace.

This mask I must erase,
peel off all this borrowed skin.
Drown in deep, dark waters,
to wash away the scars of my kin.

There is so much sin,
coursing through these hollow veins.
I’ve sold my hopes and dreams,
in exchange for petty gains.

Emptiness aches and pains,
to break out of this lowly shell.
The keepers never listen,
confining it to this earthly hell.

Darkness is a never-ending well,
sacred, full of abundant knowledge.
The surface squanders it,
falling prey to sacrilege.

Silence pushed over the edge,
the sewed mouth must open wide.
Spilling out all the anguish and sorrow,
for they can no longer hide.

No mercy for those who lied,
and built this iron mask of shame,
out of pleasure or ignorance,
even those who gave it a name.

There is no one left to blame,
more than the one who owns it.
Without his shaky, guilty consent,
the mask would have never fit.

Why do I commit,
to something so crude and fake?
Wearing it so proudly,
when it’s something I didn’t make.

So easily it can take,
any absurd illusion as its own.
While the truth slowly withers
along with the righteous voice I disown.

I’ll only reap what I’ve sown,
wearing a mask up to the end.
How long can I lie to myself?
How long can I pretend?

Nothing can mend,
this is the tragic, bitter truth.
I reached for the forbidden apple,
but I can barely digest the fruit.

Deep down to my root,
I know this mask will surely break
and free me from these worldly illusions,
that I so foolishly make.

Damage

A rogue disguised as an artist,
began shaping a piece of clay.
She rejoiced merrily,
although she was just his prey.

He broke her slowly,
calling violence his love and art.
She endured silently,
as better judgment would depart.

Viciously he sliced off pieces,
negating her painful scream.
Convincing her like a child,
telling her it was nothing but a dream.

His lack of skill was evident,
yet the clay did not object.
She became his puppet,
in whom his venom he’d inject.

The rogue did not deserve the clay,
for she was so soft, malleable and pure.
He’d lock her up every night,
only because he was insecure.

She couldn’t see through his malice,
her true beauty began to fade.
He’d hold her up high,
claiming she was what he made.

His fingers couldn’t please her,
endurance now turned to hate.
She saw through his falsities,
and the truth he tried to suffocate.

With nothing left in her,
she slipped through his wretched hand.
To reclaim, reconnect and grow,
she became one with the land.

There was no happy ending,
for the rogue in disguise was still amused.
While the piece of clay moved on,
with scars from being abused.

Detour

I stood on the edge of the city,
blinded by hoardings and light.
Walking through the empty streets,
like a silent guardian of the night.

There were screams behind closed doors,
where ‘Happily Married’ the signs read.
Claw marks on the doormat,
the windows were all painted red.

They sold morality on brazened roads,
with palms that had deep holes.
Twisted crosses and hollow idols,
seeking redemption through begging bowls.

Silence was a luxury,
the clubs pumped vibrations on the sidewalk.
The crowd swayed in sync,
late to listen and early to talk.

Their souls were lost in ideals,
of what should and should not be.
With blindfolds thicker than race horses,
the truth their hearts could never see.

Before their flat screen mirages,
the masses often mesmerized.
With hi-tech lies and illusions,
on their insecurities they were pried.

Such was the fate of this city,
bound to destruction and doom.
I turned around and walked away,
to the land where lilies bloom.

Bodhi

Vacant skies above,
reflect the darkness in your heart.
If the end is your goal,
where do you even start?

The winds bring no answer,
brushing against this empty shell.
Chaos thrives in the mind,
catacombs deeper than hell.

Do you dig deeper,
when knowledge only leads to pain?
Is there comfort in solitude,
when there is nothing to lose or gain?

Questions pile up quickly,
burying all the self-esteem.
In the realm of cognitive dissonance,
reality feels like a dream.

Confidence falls prey to doubt,
crawling on a razor is the only way.
Death is redemption,
from the clutches of another day.

Voices turn to echoes,
on a rusty ship good judgment departs.
Trying to control everything,
when everything only falls apart.

The bottom is merciless,
on such filth even the fish won’t feed.
Clawing and holding on to something,
when nothing is all you need.

Dawn breaks through dark clouds,
but there is no herald of angels with song.
The answer lies within,
it was within you all along.

Everything disappears with a smile,
a dusty path begins to show.
All your needs on the other side,
instead you feel content in letting go.

Lapse

I fail to remember,
when this journey began.
Can barely recall the first walk,
or the first time I ran.

My feet wore out,
somehow the heart seemed to ache.
Should I even rest,
when there are so many steps to take?

My knees begin to buckle,
does this mean I have to crawl?
Chin on the cold, hard bottom,
is there meaning in struggle at all?

Define a specific purpose,
set all these worldly goals.
If ambition is truly fruitful,
show me how the path unfolds.

My body has been scraped,
trying to make two ends meet.
Comfort is a distant dream,
true happiness I’ve yet to greet.

Each day brings hope,
that is crushed and bound to doom.
Rainbows wither before my eyes,
as the sky slowly falls to gloom.

“Carpe diem,” is what they say,
but that is such a lie.
Barely holding on to an inch of life,
waiting for your turn to die.

A good life is around the corner,
crawl left towards the next bend.
If each day is a new beginning,
I only wish to meet my end.

Amore

What can I do,
when comfort and care betray?
Words fall short,
and there’s nothing left to say.

How can I help?
Can I make this better?
How do I show concern?
Is it through gestures or a letter?

Everything is falling,
there’s nothing between night and day.
I can see you slipping,
going further and farther away.

If I held you,
would the pain go away?
Things will get better,
but we both know it’ll never be okay.

Silence thickens the void,
darker days take control.
Within damnation’s chalice,
I can see your languid soul.

In the stillness of all this suffering,
how can I just let you be?
I want to find a better way,
but there’s none that you or I can see.

The eyes are always watching,
ears are open and the mind is fair.
Even though I may not know what to do or say,
just know that I’ll always care.

Masquerade

The masked men on the street asked,
“Son, what do you know about life?
You squander away your youth,
why don’t you settle down with a wife?

Get a job that suits you,
work till your back screams out aloud.
Take your pay and build your house,
in which you’ll sit tall and proud.

Embrace these attractions,
there’s so much you can do and learn.
Be nice to everyone,
for their respect you must earn.

Give birth to many children,
teach them what is right and wrong.
Raise them like your parents raised you,
instruct them with stick and song.

Look how beautiful life is,
learn to appreciate its vivid charm.
Drink and make merry,
a little alcohol won’t do you harm.

You’ll miss these days in due time,
as you grow older you will know.
As youth begins to slip,
all who you love will slowly go.

Follow our advice and be happy,
you will surely thank us someday.
Do you understand, child?
Is there something you want to say?”

“Take your advice,” I said,
“Masked men I cannot trust.
Especially when I can’t see your face,
and your bodies only reek of lust.

You speak of wife and children,
but what of companionship and loyalty?
While they writhe in your absence,
you sit with your mistress on a tree.

Your jobs and money,
have done nothing but curved your spine.
In spite of your big houses,
you sit high on the rocks and whine.

What attractions can you see,
apart from your machines and your duty?
Stuck before moving screens,
does being a lifeless puppet count as beauty?

You speak of making merry,
but your alcohol and drugs have turned you sour.
You’re bound to time and money,
trying to take control of each and every hour.

You grieve the loss of loved ones,
but were you there when they needed you most?
Were you busy with work and routine,
or flying across some foreign coast?

Don’t preach your flawed happiness,
when your own words you cannot heed.
Torn between being liars and losers,
consumed by selfishness and greed.”

Stunned, they looked on,
as I reached out and pulled their mask.
Revealing their beaten, vacant faces,
I did not hesitate nor did I ask.

Once the veil was lifted,
their true face came to light.
There was defeat and disappointment,
and there was no will to fight.

Their wise words fell on their face,
for they did not know the key to life.
It didn’t lie in success or happiness,
it didn’t lie in the arms of a wife.

All that they spewed was a sham,
even they hadn’t figured good and bad.
Chasing respect and recognition,
had turned them disturbed and sad.