SILENT SCREAMS

Everyday seems like yesterday,
Routine rules the day,
Keeps us from noticing the silence inside,
the ocean of regret immersed behind pretentious smiles,
lunchtime banter.

The eyes struggle to evade,
it’s starting to show now,
as time shrugs past,
as the ebb and tide threaten to erode,
the walls that promised to keep the past hidden,
and the future buried.

It’s unbearable,
to pretend it doesn’t exist,
to hold back the tsunami that hides behind dead eyes,
dead to pain, to the feeling of what’s missing.

Alone outside,
lonely like a cactus among rose bushes,
too ingenuous, too brash, too proud, to blend in,
to accept, to relinquish rational though
to embrace, to follow blindly an unconscionable crowd.

Alone inside,
rooms filled with disappointment and anguish,
ripe with age they walk as if dragged,
one day to the next,
every dream to its death,
praying without faith,
hoping without hope,
may salvation bring the end.

So it lies,entombed,
the unbearable horrors of reality,
echoing incoherently in the distance,
its pulse pushing against the loose,
unreliable barrier,
waiting, craving to leap out, to cry out,
‘why me?’

Tick Tock…Tick Tock…Tick Tock

“Charlie come here, we have to leave early today. I have a early meeting, so i am going to drop you to school early. Ok!?”.

“CHARLIE…CHAARLIE, come on just this once.”

Marge was screaming at the top of her lungs and then she dropped her voice as she realised it was pointless. Waking up early was something she wasn’t used to, it made her seem like a crazed amnesiac junkie looking for her next fix, but unable recollect its exact location.

The anger and frustration that had now reached its inevitable end, a spillover was long overdue. This process unexpectedly gave birth to a ruthless determination to be sterner than a redneck’s unshakable warped logic. “This is it,” she thought. This time he was going to have to listen to her – he was coming with her because she needed this promotion, for them both. She knew, she couldn’t miss this chance to get out of the quagmire they were in.

Marge walked swiftly towards Charlie’s room. Her gait bore a mixture of hesitation and desperation. Her temporarily acquired determination was wearing-off like a sedative in the middle of a hernia operation. She stomped on, thinking of the time they had the night before.

They had just watched the horrific ‘Hell Raisers’, the night before, it was scarier than she had imagined and Charlie had frozen with fear. Tommy, her boyfriend had insisted that Charlie watch the movie; he was under the impression that facing something worse than what you feared most would somehow rid a person of fear itself. Marge had spent almost an hour pacifying Charlie – she finally told him that the cross-shaped pendulum of the clock in his room and the noise it emitted repulsed any and every evil spirit in existence. The tale seemed to have worked; she had tucked him in thrice and left the room with the light on.

When she snapped back, she hoped the movie hadn’t scarred him for life. She finally reached his room, he was leaning over the bathroom sink, and looked like he hadn’t slept much. She couldn’t help notice how tall he had grown and the stubble growing on his cheeks were now more prominent than ever. It had to go. “Fucking *****”, she wished she could sum up all the profanities she knew, it was worse than she thought.

Her glance moved towards his room, everything was laid out like a well executed strategy for the comfort of future and present usage. Pencils pointing towards the ceiling, his papers neatly tucked into a well-categorised file, the garbage bin was so neat it could pass-off as yet another storage container, his daily wear resonated his mood and they resembled a neatly tucked sequenced color wheel.

She suddenly interruped her own thoughts and felt the words flow out without her permission, “CHARLIEEEE….I know you heard me…you have to stop at one today, darling. Don’t make me lock you in again.”

“Noooo” “Noooo” “Noooo” (A sudden jolt of overwhelming fear and panic hit Charlie like an eerie arrival of a plane on the Inter-state Highway.)

She was facing the mirror looking both shocked and terrified as at the same time, Charlie with a newly discovered agility ripped the spiked-cross out of the clock and plunged it into Marge thrice. It was accompanied with a spine chilling shrill, “Tick Tock…Tick Tock…Tick Tock” which somehow sounded both comical and unbelievably bloodcurdling. As Marge began inevitable union with the ground, she realised she should have washed off her Hellraiser make-up and costume, after playing “dress-up” with tommy.

The Unpremeditated Snapshot

 

It was a poetic morning – birds chirping in a harmonious symphony, the air was infused with the scent of fresh foliage; undermined only by the intoxicating aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and to top it off an innate sense of wellbeing, energy, and optimism possessed Shirley. It caught her completely unaware and hopelessly defenseless. Yet Shirley wasn’t complaining although she was a little suspicious of this unexpected surge of “I can conquer the world” optimism, that came without any viable rational source – like the patronising motivating posters which did nothing but annoy the hell out of her.

She though what most of us – eternally damned realists would normally view as a sign to lie on the couch again, “Oh, what the hell!”. Shirley shuddered at the thought of thinking, after all it’s was what got her into this unholy mess in the first place. She did it again; she wondered enthusiastically, “It’s a wonderful feeling to live in the moment…right?” It was a voice she hadn’t heard in quite a long time, she recognised it or at least she thought she did. She thought she’d try listening to this voice, because after all the people who adopted ‘the live in the moment’ lifestyle always seemed to wear a smile and insist that they too haven’t escaped from the mental asylum after being injected with a strong dose of anti-psychotics; nor were they evil clones of “The Joker” with a sinister plan that involved mass destruction of retinas by brandishing their impeccable shinny pearly-whites. There it was again…Shirley’s thought,” Come on, if it works for them…”

She finally smiled without any allopathic aid – it didn’t work. She knew she had to try harder; nobody deserved it more than her. She tried some vocal stimulation, ” I can do this, it doesn’t matter if I am bogged down by paralysing stress that come or with the uncertainty of a stable future, bad job, bankruptcy, overwhelming responsibilities and this unending fear of being stranded in a state of stasis.”

As she pondered further over the possibility of living in this newfound carefree world, the sun came up a notch and the cool early morning breeze now started to feel a bit warmer. It came to her effortlessly – Shirley laid flat on her bed facing the open window in a trance like state of morphine-induced euphoric-epiphany, watching the day unfold. She watched the light emerging from the cold embrace of the dark – for a while the banal ritual of watching the sun rising was almost liberating. Gradually it got brighter, too bright, almost like a two hundred watt bulb thrust in the face during a hostile interrogation. It was anything but pleasant.

Suddenly everything she was trying to avoid, forget, and erase invaded this state of contentment and demanded a confrontation. Shirley tried to do the impossible all over again avoid, forget, and erase all the issues, decisions and everything else that had decided to join the bandwagon. It didn’t work this time. She was pinned with the weight of everything she was trying to avoid, forget, and erase; while at the same time lying paralysed with hope insisting on being cruel. Her body unconsciously fought this unwarranted intrusion with pangs of pain that soon spread all over the body like a swarm of hungry locust on fertile land – and refused to be ignored. The melody of birds chirping was soon replaced by a deplorable raucous crowing that seemed to be clearing it vocal pathway after devouring its musically inclined cousins.

Reality insisted on being noticed, and Shirley was trying her hardest to avoid it. She noticed the clock ticking, she wished it would stop, it refused. The final straw was delivered by the loud honking that seemed to assist the universe to destroy her inner sanctum. She knew she could no longer compete against it.

Right then, she heard an unholy screech that sounded uncannily similar to Tarzan’s jungle cry mimicked by a deranged horny gorilla, she recognised it and decided to find the source. It soon got louder and louder as though…until it became unbearable. This was it; in that very moment, her right hand instigated an assault on a nearby device. Unwittingly she found herself being thrust into a conscious world – leaving behind a place that offered her a glimpse into what seemed like a morphine-induced heaven, she knew she wasn’t going to enjoy her stay.

The Duckling

It felt so right, you and me like a story made up to fit a child’s dream. Ugly as an eye sour, defined by society’s prejudicial code, rode the dream with her eyes closed. The treacherous terrain wrought by anguish and pain, longing and strain often mended by hope so vain. Distracted and suckered into superficial vanity that did little to hide the facial deformity, hope stapled her eyes to her true identity. The duckling powered with her gift of instinctive reality that stirred her into a world of intellectual conformity to rid herself of this soul-eroding social mentality.

Soon she strode into a world of perpetual reality, amidst a herd of mocking vanity to cope with her own lack of superiority. She found her calling in hawking superficiality with flair of aristocratic hypocrisy. As she worked her way up the ladder of utter ruin with a vision of an over-enthusiastic delusional optimistic tyro’s acumen, cupid trots unexpectedly through the door. Suddenly, the pigeon hole that the duckling shared with the other four inmates seemed like worth staying. Possibilities awakened, undertook the task of masking the bewitched duck, hiding her from jagged mirrors that threatened reveal what she dreadfully feared. The day did what it could, she met him met under false pretext, tried and failed at every quest.

Words were left unsaid, moments fled, happiness didn’t last, her dreams were only just a another cast, to materialize at when she wanted hope to last. It was then she realized that it wasn’t her that cupid came for, he was meant for another. She smiled and she played a part of fourth wheel while they rode the cloud, only wishing she could tear her apart. Soon the duckling abandoned the hole for another, only to fly free from this agonizing never-to-be-realized dream. She bid farewell to everyone without unleashing the stream, as significant as this departure seemed, the emotion in him was lacking, for he seemed to be casually reacting to this parting. The unconscious lifted its unseemly overprotective mist on her life which seemed to take a untimely twist.

Resolute in her quest to emotionally purge herself of this unfair disastrous soul- shattering amorous misadventure, she joined an ego-wreaking call centre. Time flew quickly like dry autumn leaves on lonely melancholy tall trees, savagely divulging every past error for the audience to please. The duckling soon met her love lost while designing posters for jester Rob. She unsuccessfully befriended him, with un-impactful words that only seemed to cave in. Moments came and went, attempts were made, eyes cried for attention with actions that defied convention, but alas it was one-sided affection that left a long standing impression.

Time did what it does best, blew away dreams with everything else. The duckling retained her unfortunate handicap, never really fit into any kind of social habitat. She toiled hard night and day, her mirror lied, her eyes betrayed, friends never stayed, and lovers never strayed to close to make her stay. She wore pain, disappointment and unceasing turmoil like the superficial smile that adorned her. Everybody moved on to another emotional state, she stayed immature to this very day. Cause it was the only thing that kept her going, was a hope that someday someone would fish her out of this ruin. Without having to miraculously turning into a beautiful swan, to make her more deserving to a life worth living.

Escaping Undeserved Retribution

A dreaded reminder accompanied dawn, a banal placid episode to a chosen few. But to most maledicted souls, a curt reminder that ‘escape is unattainable’. It meant reliving the horrors of memories you want to forget, ignore, bury and lie like a paralytic unable to control or stop this relentless ruthless storm. Gripped by this sudden but expected hostile confrontation, crippled by fear, suddenly slipping into a safe comatose state of denial.

Imagining being somewhere else with someone, anyone else doing something else…the possibilities, the probabilities. It’s a good dream, though annoyingly perfect. Often dreams are superimposed by others who are equally baffling.
CLICK…BAaaMM….some Jack ass space-cowboy came riding in (using his white horse as a decoy) and pulls you out of the land of eternal peace into the twilight zone.

So, you lie there twitching and turning trying to grasp the enormity of the situation you are in, at the same time trying to escape the trammels and traps of your own mind. You suddenly realize that your imagination is merely trying to spare you the gory truth. There is no escape. The mere idea of escape entails the frivolous utilization of brain tissue. But then again indulging in frivolous ideas is what we do best. We fight this relentless force compelling us and force us to accept things as they are, give in.

Since war is imminent it’s perhaps wise to mobilise the forces, a few deranged highly precarious volunteers. A myriad of tasks lay ahead which include prying open eyelids trapped shut by preconceived perceptions, fear of impending doom, desertion of reliable instinct, courage and the ephemeral nature of happiness. Not much to go with but as the saying goes something, anything is always better than nothing.

What you witness, is the countless defeated, thwarted and vanquished to deter you. The worthiness of the cause is often debated but surrendering is no longer an option. The invading forces took no prisoners, mercy is highly underrated.

Your soldiers marched ahead shooting-up on the infamous booster tagged “Optimystia”, to tame the impending occurrence of dementia. High on artificially implanted sanguinity, armed with a benumbed body, a battered cataphract, left over endurance-slugs and grasping on a thin sword of hope.

The intrepid march ahead to the front ready to face your nemesis. Take positions and replace those whose have now faded into memory. This last post was now defended by the dreams that promised to hold true and by their own persistent refusal to believe that this could not be the end of long held ambitions and aspirations.

Finally, it began. Putting an end to the debating, the pondering, the lingering.
AaaaaaaaaaHHHHAHH!!!
Like a kamikaze warrior crashing into the enemy, fear was not an option. Desperately slicing through layers of walls erected by long-held anxieties, preconceptions a few owned and some borrowed inherited conventions of self-worth, the self-righteous societal edicts. To uncover the hidden mysterious destiny, which had been denied for so long, to rewrite this unacceptable storyline of your life.

All this, to escape this unending vicious circle which unintentionally lands you into well guarded penitentiary filled with repenting cons. What you want doesn’t seem to matter, nothing you do does, no dream can change it, persistence can’t sway it, dire attempt at prayer can’t break it.

We do it anyway. WAKE UP.

The Tortoise and The Hare

– A contemporary rendition

Once Upon a time, there was a hare who often boasted about his swiftness, speed and how nobody could beat him. He frequently taunted and scorned everyone but especially the self-effacing tortoise who tolerated his insults to avoid any unwanted and pointless confrontation with someone who suffers from a over-inflated ego which tends to affect reasoning and intelligence, if any.

One day came when the tortoise came to the gathering exhausted and jaded. It was a tough day for him, toiling away for hours to reach the gathering from the beach was not an easy task, especially if his ride forgot to pick him up…ah…the cranes are known to be amnesiacs. He was just about done licking the last drop of the drink, he ordered. His eyes lifted curiously to see what the commotion was all about, “ohh… its him”, he thought.

The hare began his egotistical journey with his audience watching intently as he described his prowess and continued until his listeners were dizzy with this tawdry exhibitionist display. Witnessing these events from a distance, the irate tortoise couldn’t control his disgust and exclaimed “who do you think you are?” There is no denying that you are swift but even you can be beaten!” The hare astonished at this sudden outburst from the docile creature but soon rebutted with a smug smile on his face, “Beaten in a race? By whom? Not you, surely! The hare squealed with laughter and proclaimed “I’ll bet there is nobody in the world that can win against me.” and confidently challenged the tortoise,” Now, why don’t you try.”

Annoyed by such bragging the tortoise accepted the challenge. A course was planned and agreed upon, and the next day at dawn they stood at the starting line. The over-confident Hare knew that the tortoise didn’t have a chance in hell, and so did the rest of the witness that choose to attend. The commended the turtle for his courage to stand up against the egotistical Hare, but knew the odds were stacked up against him. Unless, some kind of miracle occurred, the mare would undoubtedly win in-turn to swell up an already over-inflated ego.

The race began, the hare yawned deeply as he saw the meek tortoise trudged off slowly. The Hare watched how painfully slow his rival was and spat out a few uninspiring words to taunt him. The tortoise paid no heed to the typical behavior of this bully and marched ahead at his pace. Watching the tortoise plodding ahead, the mare decided to give him a head start and take a nap instead. “Take your time he said, I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”

The hare, than retreated into a slumber, as the tortoise persistently prodded ahead. The witness who had been cheering the tortoise soon retreated to their corners awaiting the inevitable to happen and thereby unconsciously siding with the pompous hare. Alone, confident and unhindered by his surrounding and shutting out every rational thought that told him that this race was decided before it began and any effort was fruitless.

The Hare suddenly woke up with a jolt and gazed around for the tortoise and noticed that the creature was only a short distance away and had barely covered one-third of the course. Breathing a sign of relief, the hare decided he might as well have some breakfast too and he went off to a near by field to much some cabbages he had noticed earlier.

The tortoise meanwhile copped a glance at a the mare and smiled with the knowledge of a cunning wolf. The mare midway through his heavy meal and adding the glare of the hot sun made his eyelids droop. He though it was funny as the other day he remembered eating more than five cabbages and still reserving energy to run three courses, but he blamed the drowsiness on the afternoon sun and gave in. The hare didn’t feel the need to resort to any underhanded schemes as he underestimated the creature and it wasn’t exactly known for its swiftness and believed that nature was on its side.

The tortoise meanwhile had reached half way along the course as the hare lay dreaming of the expression on the creatures face as he speeds past him to the finishing line and continued snoring happily. The sun began to sink below the horizon and the tortoise, who had been plodding towards the winning post all morning, was scarcely a yard from the finish. He hare woke up with a jolt and he could hardly see more than a speck of the tortoise from the distance and as he braced himself. He realized that his hands and feet and his entire body felt unusually heavy. The effort to simply walk was tantamount to attempting to sprint in space. He tried his hardest and from a distance he watched as the tortoise was greeted at the finishing line by all the surprised and overjoyed onlookers. Little did he know that the tortoise had concocted a soporific mushroom and sprinkled it on the cabbages and placed them in his sight. He did all this while the hare was asleep. Poor hare, tired and disgraced, he slumped down beside the tortoise who was silently smiling at him.” the slow with a steady mind wins every time” he said.