#writingsonthewall

248 posts
  • abhayrao 14w

    Oblivion wins

    When great souls die, the fields turn white, dotted with Cherokee roses
    The sky turns grey, as the heavens weep,
    betrayed in small doses
    Hatred masked by a noble cause
    The peace we seek, once more on pause
    How dare this mortal elevate
    Try and ask us not to hate,
    Strengthen our bonds not just tolerate
    Freedom, a bullet, disguised as hope
    Taking a life, but not the soul
    Creating a carcass, birthing a fire
    Another star dies, they never retire
    And universes awaken from the ashes
    Vengeful black holes with life clashes
    When great souls die eating our sins
    Humanity is poorer, oblivion wins....
    ©abhayrao

  • abhayrao 19w

    Sinking

    Slowly sinking from the head to the heart, so light, so heavy, goodbye my love....
    ©abhayrao

  • abhayrao 22w

    Quantum realms

    Pulled into the vortex, down the rabbit hole
    Up the tornado, once more into the fold
    No place familiar, yet oddly at ease
    Immersed in a world, beyond boundaries
    Unseen versions of people I've known
    Different realities like branches have grown
    A glimpse into those lives not lived
    Hopes and dreams and choices we remiss
    Fleeting visitor to the land of plenty
    Touch of perfection, just out of reach
    Mysterious borders too hard to see
    Sinister plotters guarding the breach
    Possibilities beckon via hidden roads
    Adventures, spaceships and hidden swords
    The lava floors, the magic carpet rides
    The bullet proof blanket that securely hides
    Ghosts in the dark and toys that protect
    Smallest of wonders we are yet to detect
    Quantum realms within a child's mind
    Something untouched like memories remind
    ©abhayrao

  • abhayrao 23w

    Piece of his soul

    Urgency more like a need than thrill
    It was desire as much as a vision
    Bringing to life an idea of freedom
    Something you feel so deep within
    A reflection of swarming colours erupt
    Path breaker trying so hard to disrupt
    To please the beholder without conforming
    Transporting our senses without informing
    Neuron pathways like rivers undiscovered
    This canvas a spark to future endeavours
    Each brush stroke another layer refined
    Dissolving the boundaries we thought predefined
    Painting my scars and hopes and dreams
    Human triumph and anguished screams
    Hues of tomorrow, shades of yesterday
    Holding you in the moment, making you stay
    Turning that lingering gaze into passion
    Inspiring awe as well as compassion
    A painter that signs with a piece of his soul
    Art is my medium, not the final goal...
    ©abhayrao

  • abhayrao 23w

    Two hearts

    Stitched upon the lines of fate
    Scarred, but whole yet again
    Broken, unbroken in mysterious ways
    Such strength in frailty, spirited displays

    Flawless, like a steady rhythm
    Untouched, unscathed, never quite still
    As free as a masterpiece in a museum
    Pristine, perfect, beautiful virgin

    Art a reflection of the reality we've made
    Two hearts showing us the truths of today
    Honest, brutal, inspired and real
    Almost too good, our photoshopped world

    The two hearts are parts of the same whole
    The inside, the outside and the truths untold
    ©abhayrao

  • abhayrao 28w

    Music

    Movements like grace
    Haunting poetry lingers in space
    Music simply elevates...
    ©abhayrao

  • abhayrao 30w

    Crutch

    The only thing harder than loving you was not
    Not feeling those feelings I had all but forgot
    Embracing bubble and stomach in a knot
    Nostalgia stirring the buried crutch....
    ©abhayrao

  • abhayrao 31w

    Quiet

    The loudest sound you never heard
    A breaking heart, an unsaid word
    Anger clenched in a fist
    Eyes that can't hide the mist
    A workers pursed lips before a boss
    The silent prayer before a toss
    The depth within a hungry child
    Caged animals dreaming of the wild
    The clumsy make up loving mothers smile
    The bruises screaming deep inside
    The bullied boys with symptoms fake
    Trauma so real they needed a break
    The earnest politicians humble lies
    The unbiased news with no obvious ties
    Well wishers cursing beneath their breath
    One last battle, life or death
    Silent screams too hard to contain
    Quiet can be pretty, but mostly it's pain...
    ©abhayrao

  • abhayrao 32w

    Silent hearts

    Echoes from the past, silence departs, seeking solace within broken hearts...,
    ©abhayrao

  • abhayrao 41w

    Tragic traditions

    Viscous limbo, can't break free
    Moving stillness, you can almost see
    Unfreezing so slowly, listless lovers
    Cut off mid sentence, silence hovers
    An endless night descending so slow
    From the fringes, did the darkness grow
    Creeping into those frozen hearts
    Extreme views to central parts
    Standing out is the tradition we leave
    Just be loud, no matter what you believe
    Scream and shout, accuse without doubt
    Divide, distract and all decency flout
    Not modesty, humanity, not laws, the spirit
    No agency left with a shroud of grit
    A legacy where the truth ceased to matter
    When facts gave way to words that flatter
    The art of manipulation, dangerous days
    Tragic traditions paving the ways
    New world order, tolerance just lost
    Traditions we leave and the future it cost
    ©abhayrao

  • mysery 53w

    Hellcat 6

    ©mysery

    Chapter Two - Part One

    Wilder Sanchez

    Fucking Monday mornings.

    I hate them so much.

    Especially when trying to deal with depression and physical exhaustion. I am well aware that these are the side effects if my drug use but I cannot live without my six hours of happiness.

    I remember how it all began. I was hanging with my guy friends when one offered me a joint. It was pretty awful but after a while, I decided it wasn't so shirty. Within a week, I was ready to experiment with other hard drugs.

    The psychologists prescribed dekapote and xanax for my PDD and social anxiety. But my body is used to those so I added the molly and cheap beer.

    I know the drugs do shit to my body once the six hours of euphoria are over. It's almost scary how I lose control of my mind.

    But that's the feeling I want. That numbness, it's a moment where I get to take a step back and let someone else worry about the mess I am.

    I know one day I might go too far,  take a few too many pills than Im supposed to, drink a few too many beers. It's happened before. Lucas never found out about the stomach pump I had to get. He doesn't know I almost died a negligent suicide at sixteen. That thought me a lesson.

    But it wasn't enough to make me stop the drugs because truthfully I can't.

    My body feels heavy as I crawl off the floor where I fell asleep last night and make my way to the bathroom.

    The mirror above my sink is broken. I had slammed my fist into it during one of my withdrawal days.

    I like it this way. Because I don't have to remind of the mess I have become by staring at my reflection.

    I get dressed for school in ripped jeans and my customary black hoodie. The hoodie is the only thing I have that had belonged to my mother. When I wear it, it makes me feel like I'm close to her even though I can barely remember who she was.

    Thirty minutes of lazy walking later I have arrived in front of Westreet Prep, my current high school. My older brother Lucas went there and I'm pretty sure both my parents went there too. Westreet Prep is just another high school, with federal style brick buildings and a large courtyard in front.

    I used to ride a motorcycle to school. It was a Yamaha FZi. But after my arrest, many of my privileges were taken away from me.

    It's always different walking to school from the way it used to be when I had my bike. The longing is almost enough to turn to regret.

    Walking into the school, I head to the cafeteria. Repeatedly hitting the rundown snacks vending machine earns me a glare from the lunch ladies and honey nut granola bar which I rightfully paid for, thank you very much.

    I find a table in the corner and set up my stuff there. My history report was supposed to be on the American Civil War.

    After borrowing several books from the library and paying for old reports on similar topics from the school's black market, I have only now decided to begin my report, fifteen minutes before it's due.

    I interchange between nibbling on the end of my pencil and munching my breakfast bar while composing my essay. It's concise, with a little less than four hundred words.

    The teacher is an impatient oaf called Mr Beier so I think he will appreciate my concise and accurate essay, not at all like the verbose theses my classmates will no doubt submit.

    An alarm on my phone alerts me that it is time for class to begin so I pack up my stuff, through my trash in the bin by the exit doors and head to Mr Beier's World History class. I take my sweet time doing all this, I couldn't give a flying fuck if I was late.

    Why am I taking a history class? I have asked myself the exact same question over a dozen times. I am not sure who I want to be in the future but I am pretty sure it's not a history buff.

    The tardy bell goes off the same time I walk into the class.

  • mysery 53w

    Hellcat 5

    ©mysery

    Chapter One - Part 5

    Abraham Bennett

    I have never met a girl like Eli. 

    She's not beautiful, not in the aristocratic blonde hair, blue eyes way. 

    No, she's interesting. That's the most fitting word to describe her. 

    She has long red hair and the deepest brown eyes I've ever seen. She never smiled during our interaction, and I can tell it's nothing personal. She does not strike me as the happy obedient kind. 

    There's something wild about her. 

    Wild Wilder, it's actually funny when I think about it. I think I've been thinking about it too much. That's why I have to ask my father to repeat his statement. 

    He does, unhappily. "I asked how was your day, Abraham."

    My father is the only person in the world who can get away with addressing me by my full name.

    "It was fine, " I play with my food. My mother is a good chef and I don't want to offend her but the truth is that I am not really hungry. 

    "You gonna eat that?" Josh asks, pointing a silver fork at an untouched piece of shallow fried chicken on my plate. Josh is my little brother. He's younger only by a few months.

    We are both seniors at Westreet Prep. I have an older sister and an older brother as well. Tim is married and Esther is going through medical school. 

    "Nope," I slide the plate over to him. 

    He cheers. 

    Dad frowns discouraging at me. "Eat your own food, boy." 

    If I got a penny for every time my dad addresses us as 'boy', not 'son' I'd be a millionaire. 

    Josh pouts, returning my plate to me.

    I sigh. There's no escaping my father. 

    "How was the community garden, honey?" Mom asks, smiling brightly. 

    "Considering the fact that I was ordered to work there I'll say it wasn't too bad." It's hard to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

    My father glares at me. "Do not speak to your mother like that."

    "It's fine, Henry." Mom sighs, raising a hand to silence him. 

    The way my mother always defends me against my father makes me feel guilty. That is why I answer her question. "We were made to work in pairs."

    "Who was your partner?" Josh asks through a mouthful of chicken. 

    "Chew your food, boy," dad instructs. 

    Josh rolls his eyes. My father's eyes narrow. I avert the near clash with an answer to his question. 

    "This girl called Wilder Sanchez."

    "Red hair, blue hoodie?" Josh asks. 

    How does one accurately one's outfit just from their name?

    "Yes," my voice mirrors the surprise I feel. How does Josh know Eli? 

    "She's in my art class." Is he a mind reader now?

    "That's nice," mom adds, her kind features smiling at me.

    "I don't think now is the time to be thinking about girls, " dad cuts in. "You should be focusing on your education. On your future. You'll need a clean mind and heart to join the Navy."

    "I already told you, dad. I'm not joining the army." My voice is tired. 

    My father was an army chaplain. He seems to think joining the Army is the only way I will learn how to truly become a man. He was disappointed when neither Tim nor Esther enlisted.

     He has set his hopes on my following in his footsteps. He does not say it directly but I'm pretty sure he will disown me when he finally realises I will not be joining the army. 

    Dad's eyebrows furrowed in determination. "You'll change your mind."

    "No, I won't."

    "The army is what shaped me into the man I am today. And it is what is going to shape you into the great man I know you are going to be-"

    "I going to my room, " I sigh, pushing my chair backwards and standing up. 

    "Don't you dare walk out that door Abraham. I am not finished talking to you."

    "But I'm done listening, " with that final statement dropped, I walked out of the dining roof and climbed up the stairs to my room. 

    My father has always been strict. But I know he loves me. I just don't get why he can't accept that I'm not joining the army. 

    I'm still seething when there's a knock at the door. 

    "Go away, " I mumble.

    "Open the damn door, Abe. I'm not your mommy."

    "What do you want Josh?" I ask while standing up and walking towards the door. 

    It swings open in my face, nearly hitting my nose. 

    Josh walks in. "You forgot your dessert."

    "Did mom send you here to talk to me?"

    "No one sent me, Abe. You know how dad behaves pisses me off too. The difference, is I don't go tagging with my friends because he upsets me."

    "Was that supposed to make me feel better?" I ask, going to sit next to Josh on the couch. He offers me the plate if brownies, I try one.

    "No, it wasn't." I'm not sure whether to appreciate his honesty. "What's up with you and Eli?" He asks. 

    The question surprises me. "Bro, we just met."

    "I know. I mean, what do you think of her?"

    "I think she's lonely."

    "Aren't we all?"

    "Come on, Josh. Let's play." I get up from the couch and move to the television set. After a minute of reconnecting wires and adjusting the settings, I grab my gamepad and go and sit next to Josh on the couch. 

    "What are we playing?" He asks through a mouthful of brownies. 

    I wrinkle my nose, chuckling nonetheless. "Chew your food, man."

    The TV screen lights up with the logo for Sony, then Nintendo. Playing Mario Kart with my little brother Josh is easily the best kind of therapy for me. Especially since I'm undefeated. Josh says it is because we always use my game console but I believe its because I truly am an expert. 

    "Three, " Josh starts the count down to match the numbers on the screen. 

    "Two." We exchange a look. My heart rate has spiked. I can already feel the adrenalin from the race. 

    We chorus the final number. "One."

    Let the games begin.

  • mysery 53w

    Hellcat 4

    ©mysery
    Chapter One - Part IV

    Two hours later, the man dismisses us. I have finished three of my two hundred hours of community service. 

    I slip on my hoodie even though it's the middle of the day and stuff my earbuds into my ears. The loud music ricochets within my ear canals and creates an ache in my head I have grown to live with. I'm listening to Coldplay as I walk to my home. 

    A quick stop at MacDonald's for a sack of greasy food and a pack of beer, then I begin the journey home. 

    One year ago, I lived with my older brother Lucas. I was raised by Lucas when my father went to prison for killing my mom. Lucas witnessed the murder, he was nineteen at the time. I was only two years old, so I don't remember much of it. Dad went to prison and Lucas adopted me. He raised me like a father. I've visited my biological father once while he has been in prison. That was on my sixteenth birthday. It's one of the memories I'll rather forget. 

    If Lucas is such a great older brother, why am I now living alone? The answer is simple. Two years ago, he started dating this leech called Vanessa or Vincentia or something along those lines. I thought their relationship was not serious. I hoped it was not serious. 

    But then Lucas started blowing me off to hang out with her. When she got pregnant and he proposed to her I knew that was the end of my relationship with my older brother. I packed up my stuff and left. For the first two days, I slept on the street. One day Lucas intercepted me and gave me an offer.

    That was when I started living at my current place. Lucas pays all the bills and gives me monthly allowances. In exchange, I go to school and try my best to keep my grades above average. 

    But after I got arrested, Lucas found out I've been using drugs and he reduced my allowance so I can only afford what I need. It's become much harder for me to pay my dealer, who also happens to be a former high school classmate of mine. 

    Jake dropped out in freshman year. We met at a bar and he introduced me to the world of dope. I've taken LSD, meth, Mary Jane and dope. But the substance I am truly hooked to is Ecstasy. 

    I call Jake and we meet in the back alley of my dilapidated apartment building. In the safety of my apartment, I swallow four pills and wash it down with booze. 

    I finish off my cheeseburger and take two more pills of Xanax with some more cheap beer. The combination of booze and pills leaves me lightheaded and blissful. 

    Despite what most people think about drug addicts, I actually know what the pills are doing to me. The Xanax is a prescription drug for my panic attacks. It helps calm me down. I started taking the ecstasy to go with when I realised I was becoming immune to the anxiety pills.

     The MDMA increases levels of serotonin and dopamine. It alters my mood and makes me feel... What's the word? Joyous. I feel alive after taking my daily pills. It certainly helps me to focus on my sculpting which I do in the living room.

    My apartment building is simple enough. There is a bedroom, bathroom, living room and kitchen. I have a bed, wardrobe and desk in my bedroom. The living room is decorated with my sculpture equipment and a set of plastic folding table and chairs. There's a fridge and a stove in the kitchen. But I don't cook and my fridge is almost always empty. 

    The faucet doesn't drip, the painting isn't chipped inside and the door has a lock. Not a bad place for an unemployed seventeen-year-old.

    With a bottle in hand, I go to my room. There are homework books scattered on my bed, I contemplate finishing the history project I have due tomorrow. The thought makes me laugh out loud. I finish the bottle an light a joint, grabbing a hoodie and stepping out of the building. At first, I never locked my door. I didn't think there was anything worth stealing inside. 

    Until someone stole my sofa while I was at school. I didn't get a new one, but I had learned my lesson.

    The roof of the building provides excellent views of the starless sky overhead and the slum I live in beneath. New Jersey is a beautiful city, but the southeast is crap. A rat scurries past me, and I laugh as I watch it hide under a pizza box. 

    "This is my life!!" I scream into the darkness of the night. This is who I am. This is who I have become. I'm not sure whether I like it. 

    In spite of the hoodie, the weather feels too chilly, and I decide to retire for the night. I'm pretty sure I turned off the music but there's a loud thumping in my eardrums as I begin to stagger back into the building. I don't know how I make it to my apartment in one piece. 

    Stumbling over clothes and school books lazily strewn over the surface of my bedroom, I topple on the bed in a heap of tired bones.

    The last thought that crosses my mind as my head hits the pillow and I drift into the sweet nothing of unconsciousness could have a jarring effect on my mind if I were sober.  

    Is this who I want to be?

  • jasmeet_kaur 57w

    ;
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    "' ".

    ©_

  • abhayrao 60w

    Care

    I wonder when we will have a leader who takes responsibility for failure not just success. When accountability is the expected norm and impartial institutions live up to their name. When the desperate cries of the people are not overlooked for imaginary cheers from echoes long past. When you listen more than talk, when you win hearts even in defeat and hold your head up high for you know, the buck stops with you! No leaders of the past, no foreign infiltrators, no dwindling free press made you abandon millions, no one prevented you from tackling the crisis and cementing your place as one of the country's great leaders . The yes men and sweet whispers you hear from them, are of your own violation, no one told you to be so blind, deaf and insensitive to your own people. Some say it's ego, some say it's pride before the fall, but no matter how high the horse and how far in the clouds is your head, those aren't the reasons at all. You don't need a medical degree when you have the world's best doctors to guide you, you don't need a science background when you have access to all their minds, you don't need to be an economics genius or technology guru for the industries best are at your beck and call. You do however need to do one thing, one thing so important that you put the very word on a fund created to help combat this pandemic and the untold suffering and misery it has heaped on us all, you need to care, you need to CARE. Care about the people for they are your own, care about the hardships they have always borne, care like one cares for another sentient being, nothing more, nothing less, but the bare minimum qualification and requirement that we must have and demand from our leaders, is that they care. Care about the citizens behind the votes, care about the trust and love that they had once shown, care enough to break your shackles, care enough to accept responsibility, care enough to make a difference and your legacy will never be forgotten, without any of the propaganda even! All anyone truly wants from their leader, is someone who really does care.....
    ©abhayrao

  • abhayrao 64w

    God of war v/s Goddess of love

    Whispers growing louder till it's all your hear
    Beacons of hope, cowering to fear
    A push to create, all that's borne from hate
    A need to conquer, believing it's your fate
    Appealing to all those dark places within
    Righteous providence, it's no longer a sin
    In the name of honour, country and God
    For all that you stand, pick up your sword
    Wear it with pride, these battle scars
    A tribute to Ares, an ode to Mars

    A jolt like something almost familiar
    A feeling of home, when you're near
    The wires that seem to bypass the brain
    Such highs, such lows, logically insane
    The strength to defy, the courage to build bridges
    More valuable than, all of this world's riches
    The moon has no light, yet it still shines
    A power so strong some call it divine
    Stifled and snuffed out, yet love finds a way
    Aphrodite's kiss, Venus's beauty, Freyja's sway

    The God of war versus the Goddess of love
    Wrestling for our souls, they pull and shove
    Out of the shackles, no wonder some fly
    Hate disguised in the thinnest of lie
    Fighting for everything except your humanity
    Swept in the tide of this dangerous sea
    The warrior whose honour fell far behind
    Love that can even the numb remind
    The God of war doesn't play for keeps
    The Goddess of love who knows no defeat
    What happens when night and day collide
    When the fires we start leave us no place to hide

    When the battle comes knocking on your very door
    When the spirits your breaking can't take it no more
    When our love for freedom is a risk too great
    When we look to our hopes and look past our hate
    Skewered moralities with no cosmic weight
    New age democracy with no real debate
    The God of war is winning their hearts
    The last of hope silently departs
    When hate is marketed as brighter than love
    When the fourth estate is guilty as f**k

    A fight for our future, disguised as incidents
    Love versus war and all of its victims
    Extreme forces eroding all middle ground
    For or against, there's no other way around
    When even the liberals start to fear progress
    When you can change the laws to further regress
    When chaos and order seem to collide
    Order has so many already on its side
    Yet chaos is where invention is born
    The Goddess of Love or the God of War
    ©abhayrao

  • abhayrao 71w

    Universe of love

    The dirt here conspires to create life
    Phenomenal nature like something divine
    Kissed by the sun, grounded by roots
    Hugged by the wind, blessed by fruits
    The simple things so filled with love
    So far below and so far above
    The pristine clouds and twinkling stars
    Moon full of desire upto the wee hours
    The unknown wonders deep in space
    Lost in the eyes of such a beautiful face
    Creatures of love, shining so bright
    Slowing down this darkness for a while
    Defying fate, undaunted by hate
    Something so pure, we barely relate
    The reason we learnt how to build bridges
    A need to connect that always itches
    Stronger than fear, more natural than hate
    Loving ourselves is the first step to relate
    To feel connected to all that's around
    This universe of love screaming so loud..
    ©abhayrao

  • abhayrao 72w

    Bounty on my soul

    I got a bounty on my soul
    These ideas are too bold
    Hate like a zealot, love with passion
    Stay enraged or feel some compassion
    Fields of red spill onto the streets
    Absent humanity the violence repeats
    Shaming the nation to consciously ignore
    More thorns than rose, need I say any more
    Staining our souls with muted consent
    Sliver of hope, and there it went
    Breaking the weakest shows brutality not strength
    Hurting the defenseless is like compensating for length
    Potential to build an everlasting legacy
    So consumed, you don't even see
    The thin line between love and hate
    What's divided can unite, it's never too late
    Keep sharing in sins, or find some courage
    Dig deep, before they burn every bridge
    Those differences that can make us whole
    I got a bounty on my soul...
    ©abhayrao

  • abhayrao 73w

    Cocktail of chaos

    So far out of reach, couldn't break your fall
    Keep the abyss at bay, the inevitable stall
    Pandemic, extremists, world under siege
    Fascists, nationalists, unstoppable disease
    Recipe for disaster, cocktail of chaos
    Uncertain times amidst so much loss
    The heartbreak behind every new statistic
    We won't feel it all at once, some traumas hurt, bit by bit
    Strange perspectives that belittle ones grief
    Some borne from guilt, some from relief
    An while old men still debate in the East
    Macro to micro, so many a beast
    Melonchony blues that don't stop wishing
    Something I knew that's now gone missing
    Battled a thousand storms to sink in your eyes
    This messed up world held together by ties
    Those tiny strings they use to pull, also connect our soul
    Separate, inseparable, forever linked
    The things that matter and those that make us whole
    A survivors tale gotten inked
    Might come a time one needs to recall
    Another dark age, in this world so enlightened
    A bit of courage in this place so frightened
    Unabashed, for sharing here is forbidden
    Cocktail of chaos, I'll take mine with gin...
    ©abhayrao

  • abhayrao 74w

    The devil's house

    The devil's house at the edge of paradise
    Darker shades that within us reside
    A part, apart, like ancient assassins
    Needed, unneeded, like tiny infractions
    Jaded with choices, still seeking more
    Chasing the waves but still at the shore
    Like billions of minds working against
    Why alien spectators will never descend
    United by gravity, divided by choice
    Revelation at 27, another lost voice
    Fame over glory, modern pursuits
    Noble and dead, wicked make the rules
    Light in the storm, strength in your eyes
    Push past your fears, their controlling device
    The truth today is belief not facts
    Violent reactions to benign acts
    Malicious maestro's symphony of hate
    Last shreds of humanity losing to fate
    The devil's house reeking of power
    Casting another spell it's the witching hour
    Omens ignored and the ones never made
    Hell's inner circle at another parade
    Hide those good intentions, suspicions arouse
    No place for angels, this is the devil's house...
    ©abhayrao