We dance along the edges of time
I never seem to have enough
you never seem to lack.
And each train signals the end
of another beginning
cut short, drowned out
by iron wheels on rails
by blank eyes passing
by fingers clutching.
We dance along the edges of our feelings
I never seem to have enough
you never seem to lack.
And each lingering glance signals
the crumbling wall of your emotion
by railway loudspeakers
by the wail of an engine
by my waving goodbye.
What does it mean to experience? Do some live the moment better than others? What qualifies as better? Is the ability to experience well, a talent like the ability to dance or write or sing? If someone is able to feel the moment, appreciate the situation and enlighten himself through it better than another, does he deserve the circumstance more than the latter? Can he be thought of as more deserving because he is more adept at feeling, internalizing, learning? What constitutes experience? Is it measured on a scale of individual betterment? And if a person feels more than another the pain and tragedy of the situation they’re in, does he deserve it less or more? Who will award the deserving? Who has the right to? Do we have a right to claim the depth of our experiences as our accomplishments? Will they ever be understood the same way if only heard as a recount? How do we measure the depth of experience? Is there even a need to quantify it?
How do you unlearn the learnt
How do you think again
Christ, Shirlene, your hands
the skin, stretched out tight against
your veins, every single one of them
your bone is too thin
to carry the weight
of your story
Tiny frame, tinier mouth
Sharp sense, sharper wit
I was scared, Shirlene
you burned me alive
with your orbit eyes
poker faced questions
I couldn’t answer
I wouldn’t if I knew
I knew you
but you knew me better
disappointment, you snarled
Undeserved, I thought
I hid the dollar coin
in my underwear
to hide the devil
from my mother
But maybe she could see
it was you, always you
Now I breathe these memories
through my mind’s archives
I don’t know you
you still know me
you still watch.
I keep borrowing the next second
when all I can afford is the present
You keep forcing your rhetoric
while I fake attention, stoic.
Do you listen to your own advice
Of monsters and mice
painting dreams with lies
staring death down with glass eyes
Ants can love too you know
lilliputian wedding bells
The snake, it hisses
Life is more afraid of you
than you are of it
the snake, it kisses
Beech wood, teak wood
anything but driftwood
I can build a sail
but will you tax me for the wind
I’ll row till I’m through
far away from you
far away from a maddening
world, a saddening sight.
Sail your ship
but always into the tide
to be swept to death
I saw an interesting question on Quora today and I decided to answer it. The question was “Why do creative people mostly prefer solitude?”.
There are two reasons why they prefer solitude:
- Because most people are not their kind of people. If you look hard enough around you, you’ll find that there are two kinds of people: those who like to think and those who don’t. The latter prefer to be fed information from whatever mainstream (or non-mainstream) sources they choose to follow without contemplation or questioning. They do not like to do research on any topic on their own and are generally loud and overbearing. Some might kindly refer to them as extroverts but I don’t believe all extroverts fall in this category. An example could be the pompous old neighbor and his wife who think they know what’s best for you and are convinced that their opinion is always right. If you don’t know any such people, you are either very fortunate or you have not lived on this planet long enough. The former category of people, the ones who like to think, are extremely rare and hard to find in most parts of the world, save some. They can be called intellectuals but they could also just be curious individuals who like to question and find out facts for themselves. I think this is where most creative professionals lie: they like to stretch and exercise their brains and they do so through their art. That is not to say that they are not skilled at logical subjects and sometimes some of the best scientists are also very creative people. As the number of people in this category is limited, most creative types are surrounded by folks who are not exactly the best company one would want when one yearns for creative or intellectual discourse and this makes them seek out solitude. Creative people like to learn about their craft and how to hone it. I think you would find that a sculptor, painter or musician prefers to learn from a master of their art rather than stay in solitude. But as long as a creative person does not feel challenged by the person they are speaking to or does not feel like they are gaining new information, they will soon lose their tolerance and seek some ‘alone time’.
- Because you need to be alone with just the sound of your inner voice.Ideas are formed in our minds, and the process of thinking requires utmost concentration. This is especially difficult to do when you are surrounded by other people who, no matter how much you like their company, will eventually cause you to sacrifice that undivided attention you need to give to your thoughts. When you are alone, you are most free to actually be yourself, to be comfortable in your own skin and shed any pretenses. This is what fuels original creativity, the liberty to be and to think.
Let me know if you have any counter-points to mine or any points to add. This is purely from personal experience and observations and I do not intend to vouch for the creative community as a whole.
Like how some scents stick in your memory
because they remind and some because they erase
Some gestures just echo sentiment
while the limbs move to appease and reject
A constant surge of emotions like an unending
car crash with you as the windshield
Here comes plunging the plenitude of our existence
into the silent platitude of nothingness
If you can set the arteries of my city on fire
then why not the veins of Asgard with desire
I can only tell you what the constraints
of your morality will allow me to
I can only hope for the cure to lie
within your jurisdiction, for this ailment.