Poetry is prayer for the Godless
It is communication for the junkies
It is the way of life for hippies
Poetry is where words merge together
Lines have no beginnings and no end
It defies form and sometimes logic
It breaks the rules
Poetry is the language of rebellion
Portrayal of beauty
A reflection of life
A moment of thought
An exercise of emotion and grammar
Poetry is chaos
Where reality and imaginary have no difference
A collection of random sentences
That can create perspective or alter it…
I was standing near my room
Early morning, looking for you
We had had a fight the previous night
I wanted to say sorry to you
It was still your fault
But now it just seemed too trivial
There were people in the hallway
Standing in groups and talking
In a mumbled buzz
It was 3 am
And my head was swirling
I just wanted to find you
Hold you and take you back with me
So I took off from the hotel
There were people in groups everywhere
I didn’t approach them
You were the only thing on my mind
Finally I reached the beach
More people here, more groups
And a louder buzz
My head began to ache
There was panic in my heart
I paced to the shore still pretty drowsy
That’s when I saw you
Lying on the beach
People all around you
They pulled the white cloth off your face
You had the same clothes you wore last night
Someone said
‘So sad, wonder why she did it’
‘Someone heard her quarreling last night’
I collapsed with a thousand thoughts swirling in my head
Wishing all this were a dream
A bad dream on a beautiful beach
The summer sun burns down my head
The afternoon light is reflected off the road
And burns me in my eyes
As I plod along
All I hear around me
Is a buzzing cacophony
Deafening honks, shrewd laughter
All around I can feel people’s eyes on me
Yet not a single one cares to smile
I walk as the heat burns my soul
Pounding me for even daring to walk this road
Forcing me to be one with this human cesspool of madness
One moment I want to scream till my lungs burst open exposing the gore
The next I just want to collapse and curl up and cry out till dehydration
The greatest achievement now is to remain sane
To be left believing in love when everyone around
Is a treacherous hatemonger
I take out a water bottle
Pour the cold water over my head
Feel the coolth trickling down my hair
Seeping into my heated scalp
I close my eyes and let go
Let go of all the negativity
It’s like a flame burning passively for a long time
Has been put out
It’s like running away from a concrete jungle
Entering the bosom of nature
Amid Palm trees and cool breeze
Tearing apart your clothes with a roar
And dipping into the ocean
Dissolving into it
Going comfortably numb
Far far away from this world
Of frustration and anger
I float in a paradise of bliss
I have great sympathy for for the physically deformed. You rarely see them in public and whenever you do, they always try to run away from the hostile crowd.
Does a persons personality have anything to do with their appearance? Does physical appearance have anything to do with a persons behaviour or intellect? Do people who are physically good looking actually get away with fallacies than the ones who are not as good looking? As much as I hate generalising, I have been repeatedly forced to think in these directions. The argument that feminists often make with regards to the unrealistic standards of beauty set by society and how women are forced to pander to them and hence indulge in behaviour that they label ‘sexual objectification’ has always seemed to me extremely immature. Many feminists claim that it’s the patriarchy which forces women to indulge in skin show. Again I found this argument highly ridiculous however the question of whether our personalities are modelled based on how we are treated by other people which in turn is highly influenced by how attractive you seem to them, maybe just maybe a persons attractiveness might actually influence their personality to a certain extent. Does this mean that those who are physically attractive are at a higher social advantage and the ones who are not very attractive and are hence rendered less favourable by many have to suffer all their lives? Maybe not.
I stumbled upon an impressive quote by Friedrich Nietzsche, a refutal of Social Darwinism (power to the socially advantaged and oppressing the disadvantaged):
Every progress of the whole must be preceded by a partial weakening. The strongest natures retain the type, the weaker ones help to advance it. Something similar also happens in the individual. There is rarely a degeneration, a truncation, or even a vice or any physical or moral loss without an advantage somewhere else. In a warlike and restless clan, for example, the sicklier man may have occasion to be alone, and may therefore become quieter and wiser; the one-eyed man will have one eye the stronger; the blind man will see deeper inwardly, and certainly hear better.
NocturnalReflections 