I dream.
When the west end of the sky eats the Sun for supper, I will always try to make sense of it all. The dandelions are kissing one another and so are a thousand tragedies before they set on their journey towards my little home. I lock the door with a glass key that breaks in my hand and adorns blood lines across my palm. And when my guests arrive, I offer them tea and tales of comical misfortune.
They laugh.
They laugh so I laugh like we all laugh at the sickest things. Two lumps of sugar and they know who I am. How can ten years with the same person fail to provide you with the clarity that hits you in the skull right now? The very clarity that makes you hate the same person you loved a long, long time ago.
Questions slip through between my toes.
They slither away like snakes down my paisely patterned carpet. The black hole below the arched back of a mad man. My guests are waiting to attack. They are patient like all tragedies are. I am content and recuperating when they strike. Gifted-gashes are presents from the deepest pit of hell.One-a gash two-a gash three-a gash.
Questions slip through between my toes.
They slither away like snakes down my paisely patterned carpet. The black hole below the arched back of a mad man. My guests are waiting to attack. They are patient like all tragedies are. I am content and recuperating when they strike. Gifted-gashes are presents from the deepest pit of hell.One-a gash two-a gash three-a gash.
My guests leave. The dandelions stop kissing. The glass key is embedded in the form of shards within the soft flesh of my palm. I nibble at the end of a stale cookie while fate takes another bite of my soul.
Mehreen Ali Kasana
I love this. I love this because I can relate to this. It [comment] is not very original, but I think you make up for that bit.
Thank you, Shivangi.
You haven’t forgotten how to write.
Obscure, I guess.
Sometimes I think Cormac McCarthy’s voice comes from within you. Very nicely written.
Tragedies as guests and you pouring tea… The image is stunning.
I wish I could take a picture. Photos spare me all the hassle words put me through.
Mehreen Mehreen Mehreen … you and your mad dreams … Terrifyingly brilliant.
Thank you, Manfred. It is pleasantly surprising to have readers understand what lies beneath these words.
You must write as an obscure author. You make sense even with such strange metaphors like fate as your guest and dandelions kissing in the field. It was a hauntingly beautiful read, Miss Kasana.
Thank you so very much, Aditya. Your kind words encourage me to open up to the world.
That would be so bad. Your world is better than the one out there, just open it to us instead I say
I’ve just read something beautiful written by someone I know after a long time. I won’t spoil it by saying something about it. I’ll just say that I’m happy. You remind me of the times I’ve had. <3
Thank you, Rizwan. I’m glad I did. I hope those memories were good.
you dont know me..i just came across ur blog..but this piece of writing is soo good! loved it:)
Oh, Mh, thank you so very much. I’m glad you liked it. I honestly doubt anyone would like it.
Hey nicely written…. Your writing really well these days…
I doubt it, LPS. But thank you. :]
angst and clarity.. aware yet mildly excited.. choosing to describe it eloquently (and doing it so well), instead of swearing away..
Thanks for writing..
Thank YOU for the comment. They motivate me to write more and, if possible, better.
If i was to describe this write in one word, it would be ‘haunting’. The metaphors are very original and profound. Definitely an achievement within themselves.
I dont really understand why ppl are referring to this as obscure. Abstract would be a much more apt term. The thing about abstract is, that although ther is a meaning behind the art that originates with the creator, the art itself is more a mould, open to interpretaion by many differnt ppl in their own ways, based on their own psychology. This does that. Very well.
I especially like the structure, it infuses the words with a sort of rhythm, the line breaks are almost like drumbeats.
I’ve always wanted words to dance to a rhythm of their own. Like a mad dance, maybe. Your words help me to write more, my friend. Obscure or abstract, whatever it is, I want words to make sense in the most haphazard fashion. It’s a contradiction, to be honest. And a very haunting one, too.
Ian, god damn.
Are you going to slap me again this early in the week?
Like I did before? Naw, giving it a break for a while. :H
My thoughts on writing are to do what it says on the tin basically. Writing something abstract like this needs to have just the right balance of word-salad type writing and average joe writing.
Overall pretty good though. I didn’t really understand any of it, because there was no continuity and it didn’t make sense. Otherwise, good.
Cool.
I didn’t really understand any of it, because there was no continuity and it didn’t make sense.
There is much continuity to it. It makes sense if you understand metaphors. For anyone with a little depth and love for words, this piece will make sense of the most brutal kind. It is tragedy as your guest at your home and you tried to lock the door with a glass key that broke in your hand. Beautiful picture. Absolutely beautiful.
I wish.
Strong imagery, incredibly strong pain. The metaphors, especially the glass key – brilliant. The complete…melancholy of the picture you painted will stay stuck in my head tonight. Why would you think you can’t write anymore?
Your words are very kind, Marina.
Reminds me of one or two of Faiz’s poems, very good.
Really? I’m flattered. Honestly. :]
Wow !!!
seriously…Wow!!!
Gulzaar comes to my mind. Hope you know the guy.
“God, I can’t write anymore” — I believe one should not make a conscious effort to write. One should just let the mind wander and once that happens, words assemble themselves and result in something beautiful.
Gulzar? How so? But thank you so very much, Farhan.
Come live with me. Here: http://www.ww2incolor.com/d/1703-4/ex-german-bunker-canadian.jpg
lawl. :H
The imagery you’ve used is striking. Scary. And seductive. Honest and extremely well written.
There is room for improvement. But thank you very much.
Creative! Dark but creative.
Thank you. :]
Great poetry in prose.
Thank you for the compliment and for visiting my blog, Sir.
Wow!!! haha I don’t think there’s anything more to say other than that.
Thank you, Nida. :]
sweetheart, this is breathtaking. each and every letter stops me. i love that.
xo
Oh thank you, Christina. Thank you so much.
xoxo
I can’t relate to your words but I sure can appreciate the poignance. Very well written.
I’m trying. Thank you. :]