Boadicea

Here is your daily reminder that you are beautiful and nothing less
Your mind is powerful and your heart blessed
You are a home of strong emotions, a real chaotic mess
But you are also strong, a warrior at best.

Whatever maybe holding you down
Whatever's the reason for your slightly frown
Look not, at it, as your weakness
Remember, you're the queen of your heart, you wear the crown

You are more than your weaknesses
And your heart is your strength
You've been through ordeals that have tested you
You know you can battle great lengths

You may think you're insignificant, a drop in life's ocean,
that there are people who actually make a difference and you don't.
but what if I told you you're a lifesaver, keeping me afloat
when the sea overpowers me and the storm enrages
you're my savior, my hypothetical boat

You build barriers around your heart
hoping not to let anyone in too far to cause pain
What you don't see is, with all of that effort
the love you deserve comes knocking, and leaves in vain

You deserve love of the unconditional kind
the one that's sacrificial, and blind
Don't push it away for fear of heartbreak
It's a risk worth taking, O beautiful mind.

Never lose hope in your belief
Never let many a tear fall in grief
Your courage and determination outshine your flaws
Your every move can change the earths course,
every frozen heart, with your warmth, will thaw

You make a difference, you matter to many
Even though it may seems sometimes, there aren't any
Breathe, smile and start a new
Shine, my angel, the universe depends on you
And in a way larger than you'll ever know,
I do too.

Strange Soul

Call her stupid, call her crazy
but don't you dare call her lazy
She maybe weird and a little bit insane
But she has a heart, and blood in her veins.
She enjoys deep conversations,
and asks all the strangest of questions
but it's not cause she's got nothing else to do
She just wants to understand you.
She cries sometimes, when you don't see it coming,
don't you dare judge her, hold her, her thoughts are running.
She'll obsess over the tiniest of wonders
like the nights sky, or the raging thunder
and you may think she's being a little childish
but give it a thought, maybe your just acting a little too... old-ish.
She feels for fictional beings, her hearts swells with emotion for them,
Allow her into your life, and watch how passionately she loves
experience what it is to be her best friend.
She'll look at you like you are the sun on a rainy day
and she'll care for you in the most unique way
Little things she will do to show you
you mean more to her than any other,
she'll make loving look easy, and letting go, harder.
But beware she craves attention, she wants to know you care
She needs to be reminded, you'll stay, that you will be there.
in my opinion it's the least you can do
say it back to her, when she says she loves you.
She owes you no explanation for the way she is
you either accept her, flaws an all, or walk away, take your call.
But I tell you, she's completely worth the fall
She's good for your heart, if you'll only break that wall.

Clueless

Clueless

Clueless as hell is she.

He should have stood back, but instead he fell

and he's still falling, the rush of wind 

hitting hard against his face

he's falling head first, into a common place

and the worst of it all, he has no control over the pace

He's constantly creating literature in her name

only his soft bound journal and his ink pen really know of her fame

he's never admired anyone the same

He wrote each day with just one aim

to gift her this little diary one day, anonymously,
covered with her name

He wrote like every day was his last

he wrote of how he wishes she was his future,

even though they didn't have a past

And all the while he wrote of her
She had no clue, he was sure.
This writer died a sudden death
young and wity, he was called up to Heaven city
His old journal was found,
and the word went around
of a woman who's praises he wrote about
but who she was, they never figured out.
Now his book stands proud on shelves everywhere
in bold letters on the cover 'The Woman With Brown Hair".
She picked up his book while browsing the shelves one day
and the day she read the last page, she closed the book,
hugged it to a chest, shut her eyes and let the brimming tears fall astray.
And said 'I wish someone would write about me this way'
Clueless.
Clueless she stayed

Dear Over-Thinker

Dear Over Thinker,
            I know you probably think you're at your worst right now, and you probably hate waking up each morning. I'm sure you think sunlight is over rated and if I know you at all, I know your favorite place to be right now is in your bed, alone, with tears staining your pretty face.
            You've been crying lately when no ones been looking, you've been thinking, and then over thinking, you've been wanting alone time, space, and when asked why, you come up blank? you're beginning to wonder if you're going crazy. How can anyone in their right mind feel so alive and still walk around lifelessly you may ask yourself. You feel so much and yet nothing substantial about it. Nothings ever enough. Everything that's coming your way is not enough, or is too much, and all you want is some kind of balance, some way of knowing just how much of everything is right.
           You've been trying to be yourself. You've been trying to be the same 'you' you've always been when you're among friends. But the very fact that you're 'trying' to be you means you have changed, and if you've changed, you shouldn't hide it, especially from your friends. In fact, it is them who need to see this 'you'. You don't realize how imperative it is for you and for them, to know there is a change in your thinking, your opinions, your ideas, maybe you're view of the world is different now, and they deserve to know it. So show it.
            Stop thinking there's something wrong with you. Stop beating yourself up for having a few down days. I say they are stepping stones to reach better places. We've all gotta reach our lowest to understand how miserable we can be. But what we do there is where the real challenge starts. You can choose to allow yourself a few days of darkness, and then on, to start being the 'you' you want to be. Or you could be a coward and hide the you that's real.
            There is no one in this world who doesn't know what fear is. We're all afraid, afraid of whats coming next, whats gonna be the next challenge thrown into our lives. We're insecure, we carry baggage filled with our past, we're hoarders, we hold grudges and bitterness, and even though we won't admit it, there is a place in our hearts that cold. Anger and disappointment in ourselves begins from there.
            It's about time dear, that you sit down, and forgive yourself. Stop for a moment and tell yourself it's okay. This, all of this is okay. You are human, you have life running through your veins, and there are people out there who count on you. who count on your life to aid theirs. There are people out there, who's lives are affected by you, who's path is already decided (by whoever decides that for us) that it is to be walked on with you. They want you, to be you. They love you.
            No one, no one can guarantee you, that things will get better. In fact I can only warn you things can get worse. But one thing I can assure you, you will be thankful you stayed, you will be thankful you fought, you will be thankful you grew. You will be thankful for You.

With Love and Understanding,

Another Over-Thinker

Grounded and Uplifting: I Want to Hold Your Hand

Grounded and Uplifting: I want to hold your hand: I want to hold your hand No, I'm not weak, No, I'm not falling And no, I'm not in love with you. I want to hold your hand ...

Imaginary Friend

We used to build sand castles together
I'd fetch the pail of water
Dave would take care of the structure
Birds of a feather, we flocked together
he wanted me by his side where ever he went
his dad never approved, but to Dave, I was God- sent
Dave's mom was more friendly though
She'd wait an extra second to let me in through the door
She never did make eye contact,
I wonder, was it beauty I lacked?
Dave and I made big plans
we shared secrets and held hands
He was my soulmate, My extra special friend
we promised each other a love with no end
Then
Dave changed
Dave grew up.
And even though I couldn't, and he knew,
there was absolutely nothing he could do
He let go of me like the stuff thrown out of the sea
I kept fading the older he grew
I watched him make friends, real ones, new.
with every new year, I was fading faster
until I was a mere shadow of dust
a steel heart turning to rust
It hurt, to see him tease kids who still believed in a friend like me
doesn't he know he was one of them, when he had me?
I don't have long, Dave let me go
I will fade soon, deteriorate into the blue
They say we get over our imaginary friends,
but have you ever wondered if your imaginary friend ever got over you?

Through Your Eyes

How dangerous would you deem my love
If I told you how you take my breath away
Would you suffocate me if I pleaded with you,
would you, for me, stay

How strange would I look to you
if I held your hand and kissed it the old fashioned way
Would you connect knuckle to face
Or would you let me keep my pace

How stunned would you feel
if I told you what I feel for you is real
Would you atleast acknowledge it
If not say it back?
Spare me the sensation of feeling myself and my fragile heart crack.

How selfish would it make me in your eyes
if I told you my calm was based on lies
That the entire time you entertained another,
I was holding back from lashing out and stifling my cries

How short tempered a person would you call me
if you knew the rage I held
To think even for once that you would replace me
after knowing how hard I fell

How monstrous would I look to you
if I told you I wanted you all to myself
Would you run as fast and far away as you can
And find yourself safer land

How ridiculous would I look to you
if my actions were driven by jealousy
territorial instinct, the need to call you mine.
I could never share you with anyone, you see

How insane would I come across to you
If I closed off from the world one day in pain
all because I couldn't bear the thought of you
walking with another in the rain

How smitten and utterly foolish do I seem
That everywhere I go I see you
You are but a conquest, my dream
How crazy am I... I love you.

The World In You

At no point in time can you ever be yourself.
The world will tell you otherwise
they'll urge you to be the best you.
But it's practically impossible
We are made up of every encounter we've made,
we are made up of every person we've ever met,
every word, every act, every little touch
you'd think it's all temporary,
here for one moment and then gone,
you fail to realize you've grown into a perfect blend
You've been in the making since the time you were born.
Every new day, you grew a little more
every new person taught you something,
every stranger, friend and foe.
What you are today is a sum total of the lives that have crossed your path.
You are nothing but a mix of souls and hearts
For every piece you took, you also gave a part
You've been breaking, and making,
a work in progress from the very start.
And you will continue to be this way,
you will give pieces of you away,
and your emptiness will be filled.
We are all but a part of eachother
each hiding behind our own skin.
What we take from eachother, will forever live inside.
We learn to be, we learn to abide.
Think of it. You aren't really you. You are more.
You are the world.

Mother- The Making Of

I've never been able to understand

how perfectly thought-out was God's plan

when he put together the profile of a mother

how different a role from any other.

Did he intend for her to capture a heart

to find true love that's set apart?

Of course he would have had to teach her

that the love she will posses will be higher than any other kind

that she would play one role too many

that she would change mankind

I wonder what was the toughest part 

while designing a mother's heart

was it programming her to always 'sacrifice'?

or was it feeding in all that great advice?

I'd like to think God was being generous

and placed a part of himself within her

so that wherever his newest design would go

She would touch hearts like no other.

He wired her brain, to bear even the most excruciating pain

and lined her soul with a power to home

life in its flesh, within herself

But God had plans un-comprehendable to man

when he gave her the ability to bring life 

For, life she brings not only in the flesh

but by her life, a plethora of bonds she'll mesh.

He decided she would be second in line

to know His children before the world

9 months of extra time with anyone He designed

was a consolation granted only to her

He poured into her heart a potion so unique

to give her a strength that's in-defeatable

a warrior in disguise, behind a mask of sweetness. 

She battles out the wars of her beloved,

designed to protect with a love so strong

she hardly ever goes wrong.

And right before he published his work

he decided to tweak his design and add a few perks

A dash of eternal beauty, a pinch of what makes a friend

and then he knew he'd created, a profile that needed no amends.

What beauty was designed the day God made mine

When He assigned her a life, a balance of joy and strife

She's beautiful, strong, persevering and kind

she houses a heart made entirely of magic, the rarest you will find

Magic is what she's brought to my life

Her love is unconditional, sacrificial and blind

My first friend, my first human touch

If ever I break, I know she'll be my crutch

Mother, you are God's finest work of art

I love you mumma, the queen of my heart.

Art of Words

He was a man of the arts
more literary, than paint or sculpture.
He looked at words with eyes of love
he was no artist he was sure,
words were his tool
a handy man he had become
a fixer-upper, of love's every wrong notion
words were his solution.
They were the silencers of his own commotion.
He saw in words what men saw in women
beauty, passion, strength and grace
and he used his words to make love
love-making of this form
broke every rule and conventional norm.
Love-making with words and sincerity
an art not all could master.
He was but a word-smith with poetic liberty
for her, he created an entire vocabulary,
a liberty that belongs only to a writer.
She knows not, about all the thought
that goes into saying the right thing.
She'll never see him take notes in his mind
while he listens to the lyrics she sings.
He watches, and listens and watches some more,
an artist studying his inspiration
planning carefully how his words should go.
Just the way he holds her,
he chooses his words to lift her off her feet.
Just the way he kisses her,
he chooses words to make her knees grow weak
Just the way he loves her
He chooses words unconditionally.
Words are his source of Love
Words are his medium
Words are a mirror to his soul
As long as she inspires the words,
his love for her can never grow old.

A Moment of Weakness

Imagine this
who defined what love is?
and when it was defined, was it defined from experience or was it a theory?
and if it were a theory, was it ever proved?
For all we know it could still be a hypothetical concept
and what we all call 'love' could be something we've created to console our broken selves.
and even if that's the case,
I wish to understand what really is 'enough love'
and what exactly is not.
and if love is ever enough
is it better when little or lot?
Somebody tell me what happens to all the love that's not returned after being given?
even if it was given with no expectation.
Does the love unaccounted for become one with the worlds rotation?
and if it does, does it set the universe off balance in a way
to know a love is out there, given away
but hasn't found a place yet to stay.
It makes me a little weary, teary eye'd I'd say.
a stream of sadness for the lack of love felt
for the frozen hearts that'll never melt.
Whatever happens then to the love radiated out
does it never reach the right place?
it can't just disappear into space!
or can it?
I need a place to sit.
Wasn't love supposed to be a constant?
a give and take?
to go around and come back around?
equally measured in the world,
one gives while one receives?
then why is this stabbing my every belief
I'm struggling to breathe.
For love was my air
and suddenly, love ain't there.

Technically

Welcome
Welcome to a place that'll leave you lost
a place where insignificant details are lit up
and the rest take a back seat, somewhere in the darker corners,
a place for all commonality.
not forgotten forever,
just made unimportant for the moment.
For here is a place where the minutest of details
come together to create the best tales.
Sound enters, but the softest of them will be amplified
the loud are toned down and asked to shut up.
Everything that you'd consider negligible
will, for this place, be highly eligible.
And things you may never have cared to listen to before
will blare through the walls and fill the room
and push every ounce of sanity present
off the edge until it's hanging off the cliff of your conscience
holding on for dear life, the only consolation being
it can fall nowhere else but within.
Running around in circles is every memory
every incident ever saved for later,
every moment one better than the other,
all moving so fast waiting to be sucked into that place
where it'll eventually turn into the worlds most unlimited resource-
Words.
And when that conversion takes place,
no ink, no pen, no amount of keys hit
will be able to express it's original beauty
but they will try nevertheless.
They will be forced to.
Such is the mechanics of this Writer's brain.

A Little Too Wrong

I was hurt, hurt for no reason
no freakin' rhyme or reason
I hurt him too
I hurt him when it was all new
Neither one of us meant to do what we did
if only for each other, hurt we could forbid.
Had I known it was inevitable
I never would have let it start.
Had I known we were capable
of tearing each other apart
I never would have let us reach
this place where each others boundaries we've breached.
But Hurt comes and goes
He's more a friend now than foe
I hold his hand and live through the day
I pretend that eventually, You and I will be okay.
Words we use as our offense and defense
how we swing them across that imaginary fence.
warm tears in our eyes,
we hide in disguise
putting up a mask
to complete the task
shielding ourselves from the crux of the fight-
that neither you, nor I, can really be right.
We are human, we are imperfect
and we don't always get what we expect
the harder we hold on
the more and more it'll feel wrong.
I no longer wish to be hurt anymore
the wounds in my soul are quickly turning sore.
I can be good for you, I can, I know
You can be good for me too, I know you'll show
but even though we sound like the perfect song,
our melody and lyrics will always be wrong.
Hurt will follow us wherever we go
Hurt- our friend, our damned shadow
we can lie to ourselves for eternities long
but we will always be a little too wrong.

Writer - Lover

A writer always has a story to tell
always bases words on true life
fiction is nothing but an altered reality
a reality he wishes was different
A writer sees the world in all its clarity
and it makes him insane, it drives him crazy
and he always has something to say about it.
Sadly he doesn't always have someone to listen.
and so he writes.
He writes his version of reality.
a version he believes is possible in a world of his own
if he doesn't tell the story the moment it's born
it will forever remain a story untold,
words unspoken, an anecdote, buried stale and with no beauty.
What's a story if not written?
Unwritten and ugly, the words will wound
but through the words of a writer
they are saved.
Laced and beautified, made more acceptable than not
they are worth a read, worth a shot.
Listen to the stories a writer has to share
listen to his sub text, raw and bare
behind every word lies a story untold
read and you will see a story unfold.
Look not down upon a man of words
he is but an instrument in bringing you truth
however sugar- coated it may be,
sweetness and beauty trumps harsh reality
As for all the darkness, he'll lock it up inside
never wanting the world to face the nasty tide
A storm within himself will reside
turbulence, fear and worry collide
Keep your writer close yet give him his space
He wants only to be able to write at his own pace
a world lives within his heart, one you'll never understand
a world at his finger tips, words a magic in his hand.
you'll never know love like the one a writer can offer
there's no story more beautifully told than that of a writer-lover.