brokenbleedingbattered's Xanga

Because Cliches are More Than Words

Thu, 06 Aug 2009 13:56:28 GMT

It's indescribable, this feeling--a jumble of adjectives, a cacophony of emotions, an ocean of being.

It's when I look over at you to see you smiling at me; when you thread my fingers through yours because you claim my hand 'seemed lonely'. It's when you start a silly conversation to cheer me up, and when a smile spreads across your face like how the rays of the sun at dawn melts upon the earth.

It's how a squeeze of your hand can bring me comfort, and how your eyes convey more than words ever can.

Funny how I scorned it all before you came, but I'm glad you did.

(Even though we've now become a cliche of our own.)

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Writer's semi-block.

My attempt at a writing exercise for today.

-Rach

To Belinda (From Mother and Father)

Sat, 15 Mar 2008 13:39:03 GMT

Hello, Belinda; how are you today?

Your empty eyes are ironically gay

Silent smile, simple; unadulterated

Yet a reminder of what is

Hello, Belinda; do you remember?

Your childhood, a faintly glowing ember

Mother’s scent; Father’s voice

One-and-a-half decades past

Hello Belinda, what’s on your mind?

There’s this recollection we cannot find

But only relive the screams

That tears alone can drown out

Happy Birthday, Belinda; Six-and-ten

Yes, it does make sixteen, then

More than words, into the soul

We’ll always love you

Hello Belinda, today we’ve learnt

To release the ashes of a fire burnt

Forgiveness, and together the screams fade

Within indescribable joy and sadness

And here in the sun, and the drizzling rain

Gone forever, the agonizing pain

Goodbye, Belinda; till we see you again.

Love;
Mother and Father

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This is a letter to parents of their late child, if you're wondering.

-Rach

Of Gummy Bears and Chocolate

Thu, 06 Mar 2008 11:15:27 GMT

I growl as you snatch the last gummy bear from the bowl.

“Give it.”

Smirking, you hold the red blob of sugar out of my reach, above your head.

“Nope. All mine,” you declare smugly, promptly popping it into your mouth.

My face slips into a scowl as I watch the demise of my lovely gummy bear. “Glutton. I hate you,” I huff, as I make my way into the kitchen in search of another packet of gummy bears.

“No you don’t.” You trail behind me and steal another of my gummies from the packet I had just opened. Glaring, I hug the packet closer to myself and stick my tongue out at you.

Grinning, you stick yours back; and quickly snatch the bag away from my grasp and sprint out of the kitchen. Indignant, I run after you and latch myself onto your back with a leap.

I end up on top of you, laughing as you groan in pain from the impact of the fall.

“And here I was, thinking that I’d save you a mars bar,” you sigh. Immediately, my eyes brighten, and I spring off your back onto the ground beside you.

“Sorry. Please? Mars?” I gurgle, holding a hand out, nearly drooling in anticipation of the taste of the chocolate and caramel.

Laughing, you poke my arm. “Looks who’s the Glutton now, huh.”

I smile back goofily and thrust my upturned palm into your face.

In return, you tackle me into a headlock and ruffle my hair, ignoring my violent protests.

“Mars, please?” I try again in desperation, my voice coming out muffled from against your stomach. With a last chuckle, you release me, and drop a kiss upon my nose.

My breath hitches as I feel your lips upon my skin, and my heartbeat accelerates. For a split second, I imagine that I see something in your eyes.

Suddenly I hear her voice calling your name, and I look away in disappointment, trying desperately to mask it as I step away from you to flash her an overly bright grin.

“Hey Christine,” you call, pulling her into your arms for a kiss. I look away awkwardly.

“Hi Nelly,” she greets me after a while, smiling.

“I’ll, erm, be going now,” I shuffle self-consciously towards your gate. “Bye Christine, Drew.”

You echo your farewell; so does she.

And then I walk dejectedly away, without you; without any chocolate; without any gummy bears.

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Inspired by not wanting to study for Physics, Taylor Swift's 'Teardrops On My Guitar' (can't you tell?) and two of my favourite types of candy.

-Rach

Disclaimer: I do not own Mars (the brand of chocolate). Neither do I own the planet, of course.

Ichor

Sat, 19 Jan 2008 00:43:21 GMT

Outside, the sky darkened, mist and fog swirling to form a horde of invisible hornets; a mass of black and grey, electric buzz growing in the air.

She stared at her stationery. A pocketful of colours; pink, green, yellow, black and blue. Her hand settled on the silver.

Blood.

Orchral stained the carpeted floor, its crimson seeped into the fur, deflowered; open. In an instant, her vision painted black, silvery strokes brushed crudely across the inky canvas, and she drew breath. The blade caught the angle of the light and she stared at its edge mesmerised by the haunting image of it against her bare skin, as if an argent moon against alabaster sky.

And, yet. It released her, gave her the relief; refuge she sought. Was it wrong to want to attempt to assuage one from onself? She caressed the edge of the blade and stared as it slit the velvety pad of her finger. Slowly, she levelled it toward her wrist, and she drew breath.

Blood, drop by drop, it fell.

And she watched, trapped in her body, a scared little girl.

♥Vera.

Goodbye, My Love

Wed, 07 Nov 2007 12:22:57 GMT

Noises dwindle into murmurs muted;

Shrieking sirens fade

Voices melt onto each other;

A surreal escapade

Where the hysteria

Comes within numbing pain

Where I stand, on the concrete street

Beneath the falling rain

This is where I stare

On my knees

And upon my lips

Linger unspoken pleas

For a chance to whisper

Into her ear

Something I know

She’ll never be able to hear

Her eyes are shut

Her skin is pale

And in the cold

It becomes so real

I see the bright crimson;

A pool beneath her head

As mocking echoes coldly declare:

The girl is dead.

I reach out to touch her face

To tell her to stay

But they’ve covered her in white now

They’re taking her away

I couldn’t even tell her

What I’ve wanted to say for so long

And now she’s gone.

Everything’s gone wrong

By the moonlight, in the chilly breeze

Crowds disperse

The noises return

The ambulance gears into reverse

And drives off

As police walk around

Asking questions

Seeking evidence from the blood-stained ground

I remain rooted

Lifting my head to the midnight sky above

She’s gone now; it’s too late

Still I whisper, for maybe she’d hear

Goodbye, my Love.

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Inspired by the music video of Hoobastank's The Reason (the distraction), and Ronan Keating's If Tomorrow Never Comes.

-Rach

Fae Ritual

Tue, 02 Oct 2007 11:49:09 GMT

The raindrops fall

Upon our faces.

Winds bemoan of foreboding fates

Gather in the Faerie ring;

In dampened spirits we sing

The trees, they whisper

Among themselves

Joining the chorus chant

Voices merge, gently flow

A majestic crescendo

----------------------------

Rach

Beat, Heart

Thu, 13 Sep 2007 10:41:16 GMT

Beat, heart

Even as I’m torn apart

While my world crashes

Marking the scarlet slashes

Upon my hand

Let’s just pretend

The walls come crashing

Sadistic lashing

But devoid of sound

They surround;

Violently shake

To finally break

Drunken, slurred

Vision blurred

The blows come

Mixed with rum

Motionlessly, I sit

And submit

His anger quenched

My hands are drenched

In dark red

And in my head

A pounding kaleidoscope

Tangled within a broken hope

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-Rach

Inspire

Fri, 03 Aug 2007 13:45:58 GMT

She who wields this weapon true

With passion and zeal

Confident, cryptic, contradicting

Her power from within

To form; to sculpt; and to create—

Ethereal enchantment

And then to crush; and smash; and break—

Shattered illusions

To calm; to weave a soothing song

Or a sweet lullaby

To release this raging ire within

With hysterical, metallic agony

Like the glaring, flashing lights

Cast upon the jerking forms

And the incessant, pounding beat

Resonating around the mass of grinding bodies

Like the many twinkling stars

Embedded in the midnight sky

Leading consciousness into security;

Comforting lonely Solitaire

Into hearts of lovers torn

And Soldiers of spirits broken;

Into souls of the lost and forlorn;

She whispers those words of epiphany

To call upon the wildest chaos

To start a raging fire

To tell the tales of the past and future

And to inspire

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I originally planned to enter the Commonwealth Essay Competition with this piece, but I didn't complete it in time, so here is.

-Rach

Black

Sat, 28 Jul 2007 15:20:58 GMT

This is for my LA Assignment.

Black paint thine heart;
The world needs to restart.

Black: the dark that stalks by night.
Like a stalker, it trails you to give you a fright.
A shadow so clear,
Can cause you much fear,
Killing all light in your sight.

Pitch darkness that surrounds the glowing moon,
A shade by the trees in mid-afternoon.
Ink smudges on papers,
Night rain, down it tapers,
The dark, conservative side of the moon.

The colour of skin, the Negros they wear;
Hear anger when we curse the skin they bear.
In the time of death,
Near one’s one last breath,
Everything in the world turns black.

Heed warning, now please listen close.
Echoes of a cry of a dying rose.
Avoid, don’t associate;
Run away, do concentrate.
Turn away from black, otherwise:

Black paint thine heart;
All love depart.

Belle.

Time

Sat, 21 Jul 2007 07:05:46 GMT

Rotating, revolving, turning,On the tiny eyes of the sharp spindle (of the needle)
So knitted, woven, intertwined,
Are the twisted ropes callused hands pull,
Slowly, Deliberately,
The intangible instrument shudders,
twitches into motion,
Shows signs of feeling,
But the notion fades.

The heavy fabric falls,
The deep drum of the clock,
The curtain is drawn;

The spotlight shines bright,
The glare so blinding you can't see light.

But how can it be that no one is there; The stage is bare.

And as the weaving maiden laughs, her quiet beauty seeping into the dark of the night,
She straightens and suddenly, throws the blanket of time over unknowing heads below,
Made of forgotten days, lost memories, kites, honeysuckle, song, magic, the new as old, dance and us.

So try as we might,
To find a method of flight,
And hide from the chasing shadows of light,
Or discover the reason for rhyme and rhyme for reason,
Time makes a fool of us and so,
We just pray at every dark turn.