POET'S SKIN

I dance around vivid imagery and try to create sparks

Month: August, 2014

To all the rebels and free-thinkers out there: The flower in you

Fiction/Opinion

The society expects you to grow among the tattooed-in shades of the tree, They want you to blossom among the green leaves and between the minute distances of branched twigs

They want you to be of an arranged order – arrayed and organized, to supposedly create a system of equitable beauty

So they make you shine like flower petals decked in fluoresce

They shower you with the amenity of sunbeams that gild your petals and drizzle you with the slick touch of rain

And you emerge: a tiny bud at first, but so much more after each storm. Then you grow and grow until you can no longer move.

Fastened among the others flowers, my dear, you are a

rosy pink orchid

a flaming Tiger Lily

an innocent cherry blossom – a flower deemed as ‘beautiful’ in the assertion of the society

But there will always be flowers in the world that are not able to keep up with the strident regulation of society (or whom are unwilling to). Though not visible from young, it will become clearer and clearer when your flower shoot grows out, into something bigger and something explosively wonderful – that these flowers don’t belong on the branches, that they belong out in the wild.

Untamed, uncontrolled and emancipated.

And if the hinges of society’s doors oppresses you and keeps you down

and all you wish to do is unhook the claws dug into your mind and skin and escape from Society’s clutches,

then oh my, darling, you are a wildflower.

And just like every flower, you have your beauty too.

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POV from a bipolar mind

                                                                                                                                        Fiction

(NOTE: This is just fiction but I wanted to write it in a first person view of what having bipolar disorder feels like. I feel really upset that such disorders exist and plague innocent people like all other illnesses/diseases and I really admire their strength :’) and I really hope that after reading this, you will be able to emphasize with them and show these people a little more love and patience.)

Lately, I don’t know what’s gone over me.

Everyone seems to acknowledge that there are wild fluctuations in my mood swings, and also, radical extremities of my highs and lows

Sometimes, I would gesticulate frantically and scream along with my friends, who appear to be on the same frequency as me

But it appears that I would fall into a state of despondency at the slightest of things

and very often, breaking loose of this slump took me just minutes or even mere seconds

And when I do appear to flee from it, I felt so jubilant that it was almost as if I was on drugs

a feeling similar to that felt by me months ago when I tried the drug ecstasy for the curiosity of it

The feeling was indistinguishable.

I struggle with decisions.

I know I am fickle minded and that struggling with decisions on a daily basis is no surprise for me, and is even being seen as routine

Yet the magnitude of the difference in the choices I want to make is cosmic

Voices in my head saying,

“Buy this dress, you know you love it! You would spend a 100 dollars for it,”

“Its the worst thing I have ever seen in my whole entire life. No way I am buying it.”

And multiple times a day,

voices like these clashed against my brain nerves and these inner voices quibble day and night and conflict each other out

parallel in judgement, 180 degrees in separation

Sometimes, after a huge meltdown, I find myself in credit card bills filled with lists of items I don’t recall buying

or even if I did recall buying them, it felt like it all happened in a lucid dream

How could dreams ever translate into such vivid reality?

Hot coals of my anger also seem to easily swell and snowball into large amounts

sometimes turning me into a human monster – belligerent and hasty

My violent tendencies seemed to increase but it was mostly directed at the white cement wall at home

leaving behind brown bruises – a smear of remembrance for me

And when I do stop being violent, I felt like I was the happiest person on earth

Other than turning violent, I found myself snapping at people on a whole new level

Snapping at friends was not so bad – horrible, but after all, quite the norm

But I lashed out at my manager and my boss one day

and the funny thing was I couldn’t even control my mouth

it felt like my mouth didn’t belong to me

but that a remote control controlled by Marsians was prying my mouth open

springing my lips open and causing me to shoot arrows of vicious venom at their pride

and needless to say, that ended up with a packing up of my office desk and a letter of official dismissal.

P.S. I was found later to be diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

Unravelling souls

                                                                                                                                  fiction

It was 10 years after the Fukushima nuclear blast shook Katy when she was seven

the deafening sound of the eruption still rung itself in her head even years after the accident

At that time, she was Tokyo street eating – one out of millions of oblivious people

unaware of the impending disaster that was looming large at them

She clasped her ears as the excruciating memory floated back to her

the sound of blasts filling her ears like a series of waves

She was much better now

no longer having those hallucinations of her teleported back to that period of time

but she occasionally thought of it

after all, she was young and traumatized

There was no way she would ever forget the tragedy

And she always thanked the heavens that she was still living

healthy and blissfully

Then one day, it was discovered that Katy’s eyes had morphed by radiation

they had morphed into something so peculiar yet wonderful at the same time – she could see through people’s exterior surface, she could get a glimpse at their inner world!

Clowns seemingly filled the streets, plastic walking people and people with multiple faces were second to clowns

It all just seemed to describe how people risk their blithe to please others, how people pretend and pretend so much that they may as well turn as fake as plastic

and how people often say things in contradictory light and to different people

However, that was not all she observed

there were people walking around in their pajamas with a pillow attached to their head- the dreamers

there were people walking around with a smug face and a hand with the thumbs up sign- the believers

there were people with hearts that seemed to pop out of their chests – the caring ones

and she silently thanked God for them

 

 

It must be so fascinating to have an ability like that

I wonder what I would see if I were to look into the mirror…

                                                                                                       Fiction;      Belle.

Of helium and balloons

Have you ever had to buy a helium balloon for a friend’s birthday?

If not, just know that helium balloons are often tied with a relatively heavy paper shaped like a square, to prevent the helium balloon from flying up.

And that we are, in many ways, just like those helium balloons.

We were born free-spirited: wild creatures of thought, curiousity and wonder thrown in altogether
We were a flying mess, always struggling to break free of invisible bars
Only to grow up realizing that these invisible bars are unbreakable
And that’s when the “heavy paper” sets in
To hold us down
To spoil our dreams
To make us dare not dream about crossing pass the windows of our rooms
To decline our reach out into the wide expanse of the sky
So we can’t FLY.
There are SO many things I can use to describe what’s holding us down, what the “paper” might be –
To many teenagers, it may be school
The tedium of a superficial “thought-provoking” place
The blindness of the words on every paper
The jail to every child’s colourful thoughts and ideas
Paradoxically, schools dampen ideas
And they impede our budding minds
And like Einstein once said,
“School failed me, and I failed the school. It bored me. The teachers behaved like Feldwebel (sergeants). I wanted to learn what I wanted to know, but they wanted me to learn for the exam. What I hated most was the competitive system there, and especially sports. Because of this, I wasn’t worth anything, and several times they suggested I leave. I felt that my thirst for knowledge was being strangled by my teachers; grades were their only measurement. How can a teacher understand youth with such a system? . . . from the age of twelve I began to suspect authority and distrust teachers.”
To many other teenagers, it could also be fear
The raw fear of falling – fear that we would lose our helium once we break free of the bars
Fear that we would plunge downwards and never be able to get back up again
But to me, it was a mix of everything.
It was not only the education system, which was designed to make the more different ones (me) a failure,
It was also everyone’s expectations I couldn’t break free from: People’s doubts about me, their disbelief in me. And of course, not forgetting, my own doubt and fear.
Heck, I couldn’t even get out of the window bars in my room
Yet I wanted to explore the vast medium of a sky
But now I know.
And now I realize.
I am going to break these dumb bars
Into the world outside.
And I,
Am going to fly.