Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Sep 2014 Purvi Gadia
Phobial
It's not my fault that you're a catastrophe that outshines entire galaxies,
and that the remnants from your explosion lies within my own body
and the bodies of everyone who has the privilege to experience your beautiful tragedy.
Felt from light-years away,
you exceed the amount of love the sun provides everything in its wake,
and you're a burst of color who's shades travel at record speed
impaling everything in your path in a flash so blinding
that even my heart can't see straight.
You're the most violent event ever known
but I'm anything but destroyed.
You  can blow yourself apart as many times as you want
but I'll never see you as simply the death of something beautiful.
Instead I see you as the puzzle pieces that create universes you'd never imagine when put back together.
Long story short,
you're cataclysmic to life as we know it,
but you're everything I need to feel together again.
The painter wanted to paint
Staring at the blank canvas for long
He just put his signature at the corner
He did not have anything more
To improvise on the white-washed ideas
Dear Diary,

It seens that I appear to be stuck in my own mind. Trapped perhaps, in this horrible thought process of mine.
Been locked up in a cage of hatred towards myself. What was it that I had done for a concequence like this one?
Seeking answers never given. Searching for clues never placed.
But like a maze, found a reason to keep walking till freedom was found at last.
But no, not in this case. Yes I did find the exit to this maze and I had a reason to do so. However freedom was not a reward.
It was much more than that.
It was an answer to all that had been questioned. An answer to a prayer laid to rest. A message in a bottle reached me, as it was read a smile drawn upon my face.
No smile had meant more than the one drawn that instant.
Drawn, in fact, by an artist himself.
Never had I called myself to bear such beautiful smile but he, had drawn it with the hands of an artist a genious.
An artist whose canvas was a human body, the skin of those who craved that sting in return for a memory. A work of art.
This artist managed to draw the most incredible smile upon my face that I had ever laid eyes on. Impressive I must admit.
But how was said artist capable of this?
With words painted in the back of my mind as he spoke, bursts of joy flew.
An artist who once loved this selfish being and who had permanently drawn her name on his own personal canvas with a beating heart.
An artist she calls superman.

-Kathia Mariana Landeros
For you
Life is like a drum
you should keep beating on.
 Sep 2014 Purvi Gadia
WickedHope
I've begun to think that everyone is an illusion
hiding behind a mask
no one seems authentic to me anymore
if everyone's a fake am I a liar too
or perhaps it's only me and not at all you
savage dogs and thirsty wolves
on each other for a ****, any ****
trying to make ourselves seem real
am I as bad as all of you
give me a smile
that fake plastic mold you've attached to your face
tell me a story
that sweet burning fiction that comes out of your mouth
you mean nothing
nothing you say
nothing you've "done"
you mean nothing
illusions walking around trying to fool each other
fakes that pretend
you never grew out of the days of imaginary friends
I don't want imaginary friends
I want us to be real people
Something I started few days ago and was finally bitter enough to finish.
Sort of rant-ish. Oops
 Sep 2014 Purvi Gadia
Joe Wilson
I've never killed in my long life
neither enemy soldier, politician, nor wife
This feat that causes me no surprise
Is what we call living in its normal guise.

I would never be so naïve as to say
The pen is always the only way
But it seems to me that war only proved
Who will remain, and who is removed.

And all this killing that leaves nations bereft
With the vile bitter cordite smell that is left
Widows lose husbands, fathers lose sons
Babies are dying from the barrels of guns.

To save nations weapons of course must be used
But there are so many people who are being abused
And when one discusses what is now simply absurd
There is nothing that is mightier than the word.

©Joe Wilson - The word is STOP...2014


"War does not determine who is right - only who is left".
Bertrand Russell
 Sep 2014 Purvi Gadia
WickedHope
I just had a memory
Of you skipping
Past me
In the streets of Brazil
At one in the morning

I just had a memory
Of you dancing
With me
In the streets of Brazil
At three in the morning

I just had a memory
Of you dipping me
Close to kissing me
In the streets of Brazil
At four in the morning
A tired, lopsided grin...
My legs like jelly...
Staring into your would-be, should-be green eyes...
At one, three, and four.
...       Whatever happened to 2 a.m.?
 Sep 2014 Purvi Gadia
May
My Art
 Sep 2014 Purvi Gadia
May
I put words in to rhymes
and I call it poetry
my mind on paper
to help keep my sanity.
You may not like my poems
think they're basic and lacking
but my words are my art
from my heart that is cracking.
If you read through my soul
and find that you can relate
that's all I can ask for
from poets so great.
So give me critiques
cut my words down to size
make them bleed out
the feelings inside.
Help me, don't hurt me
just give me your wisdom
show me how to grow
and I'll feed off your criticism.
Next page