ode to anti-hero everyman.

(wowww it has been a while, hasn’t it? I apologise. I’m horrific under a workload. I often convince myself I have an XXL one as well ugh xD)
(on a more post content-related note; open your eyes because you’re almost always gonna find an anti-hero everyman, almost everywhere. always. everywhere. almost.)

Oh blind-side plus,
Won’t call someone outright “beautiful” or “intelligent”,
But you still know how to treat us.

Oh boy never-next-door,
You’ll say we’re “not-dumb” and “not-ugly”,
No wonder everyone thinks of you an extra bore,
But they never got to know you more.

Oh classroom anti-hero,
Not even you know
That you’re the quotidian key-role,
The bridge between the feel-good that grows
To make us feel-great, us undeserving minnows.

Exploited blind-side plus,
Angelic boy never-next-door,
My purposeful pulse,
Oh classroom anti-hero.

the coldest winter.

(exams right now: yay ugh. these ones carry the most significance in my life so far so ye what better way to take some pressure off than procrastinate [wasted far too much time yeesh] here, right?)

[Trice]: And what I had for you was a need,
And to be frank my core entertained it,
I held this need, so much I’m losing me
Again. The elegant touch of this pit
That holds despondent water with my head underneath;
My mirror’s bleeding from its mislead-wrists
But also from its teeth.

Memories don’t fade and the scars still linger,
Goodbye my friend;
Why’d I ever love again?
Memories made
In the coldest winter.

At the end of the day,
A monarch’s just a sinecure,
Equipped but never ready,
Feeling gifted, disillusioned and insecure.

I hate that memories retreat,
Their acquisition being the only
Argument against my frigid feet.
Hell; I’m only celibate, not holy.
But it didn’t stop me from
Crying into my sheets.

Believe me, bestie,
This is in no way an epitaph,
Prithee,
We’re not through; don’t leave, my other half,
Come with me,
Back to being intertwined
And thinking on each other’s behalf;
I’m not leaving.

Memories made in the coldest winter,
Goodbye my friend,
I won’t ever love again.
Never again.

It’s not just me shedding essence,
I hate to admit it but I have to accept
Irrevocably, a searing, dumbing absence
Of you. But;
Who’d I be without you?

(I didn’t mean to sweet-talk in any manner xD BUT HOW COULD I LEAVE THESE TWO OUT HUH? :’) )

bucket hat//arizona // yung lean

All you do is run away,

Think you’re being really brave,

But all you do is enjoy the pain,

Feel it all, staying awake,

All you do is cry your days away,

Assuming your beliefs are great,

All you do is waste your stay in this world that doesn’t pay,

All you do is stay refrained,

Unadhering to the game,

Yet all you do is entangle yourself in the play that’s only humane,

Shift the blame, 

Although it’s not on your display,

All you do is declare

Your heart of despair,

Only to tear,

All you do is plead to be spared

Half-heartedly, and oh, “life’s unfair”?

You’d give anything for a delay,

You in your arrays of decay; you splay clay with grey,

You can’t obey, you can’t weigh,

No beret, no cabaret,

Resort to prayer,

All you do is proclaim that you’re not austere,

All you do is think you’re prepared,

The jacket and hair, feign debonair,

Strut, ex unico fonte fanfare,

Till you swap your lil’ square

For something to wear

Six feet beneath a breath of fresh air.

//werther//byron//chopin//baudelaire//


//murphy//morrissey//cohen//dhanush//


//6ixgod//cudi//yung//


//ROCK//

Clamp Down (My Face)

(do note: this glorious event took place some twenty-two hours ago and that would explain why this sounds like really unnatural writing ehh finally something I could shove in the face of people who told me I look like a good poet xD except this blog and its material isn’t open to people I know barring two so it’s not like I can actually show people this ugh)

Clamped down.
Do you know what waterboarding is?
Was that a no
I’d heard; thought so.

Lemme, use this opportunity
To educate ya fool,
You get one lesson in theory,
So do apprehend that water’s just a tool.

The only thing I felt before I rose,
Like the pick of the deep-fryer,
Was the heat, humidity
And a headache; all verbose.

Then found myself lying gratefully on the
Frigid bathroom floor that had flown to
Meet my jaw,
And I thought that was a fin to a vie sans amour.

Somehow swaying back to my feet,
A million annoying motivation songs
Flooded my ears otherwise kaput,
But the travail prolonged.

Two feeble tugs at the taunting towel
And an instinctive wrap-around,
Meant my pallid face
Would be the first sight when I was found.

Groped at the floor, fumbled into the door,
All I needed was to feel
The metal of the lock
But like my eyes and stream of thought:
I was just blocked.

No less-blinded
Two heaving breaths later,
I rolled out
On a steaming platter.

I still don’t know how long I lay there
But I got back up,
Dappled shoulders, brined hair,
I made a mistake, yup.

Only four slippery steps
And palm-marks on white walls,
And I was facedown yet again,
Expecting a pall.

But here, twenty-two hours in the future,
I haven’t yet seen Death’s embouchure,
And maybe I amn’t as beholden,
Don’t know how to end this;
And I find that golden.

(yeah well, I still don’t know if it was a blackout or did I even faint or what? I have been constantly ill for a little over two months now hmm. When I made it out the room; I walked out with a very indifferent demeanour, no doubt intentional. Heck, I forgot to look at the time as well xD Would have given me some clue as to what happened. Heh I just blew up a simple stagger and made it sound like I’m dying in like four-hundred words holy shit. Soon as I actually manage to binge-watch something; I can officially be the angsty teenager my parents are always complaining about 🙂 yay)

ac29cb0a6ebfd3379b1a47e79665c538

crass repetitive perversity

(this didn’t start off a poem.song/whatever but it just transfigured itself into one in the process of writing eh well xD)

During exercise, a muscle is stretched and strained and taut and tight and degenerated and what not.

Especially in cases subject to strenuosity.

The common, tried-and-tested go-to method for effective muscle recovery after strenuous muscle exertion we’ve got

Is Cold.

 

Cold Press, Hot Press

Sure there’s warmth in heat packs and all that.

But none of those are applied for the purpose of recovery.

Only for relief. Up next; the slats.

 

Now the heart is a muscle.

Going cold after your heart’s been rippled or ripped is equivocally discouraged, of course.

 

But that’s only because the inherent human pursuit of happiness

Or rather; a pursuit of a paucity of negativity

Has convinced our vain species that

Warmth is the only plausible eventuality.

 

Let go of love and forget looking forward

Because that undermines all your recuperation.

Us soup boys;

Symbols-Ambassadors of the Southern Tamil Nation.

 

Bent, Clawed

Beaten, Flooredtumblr-love-36

Trashed, Slashed

Crashed, Gashed.

 

One thing unites us;

It’s this induced, justified misogyny

And a heart gone bust.

 

But even smokers keep going

Although they know they’re their own agents of killing.

 

(I have absolutely got to add that the premise of this post – as it popped into my steamy jet of rumination under a hot shower – immensely surprised me; perhaps beyond anything else this entire calendar year. Why? Because I’m no misogynist nor someone who dis-advocates love despite his celibacy backed by reason and heavy thought. I may never want to ever fall in love but I sure do keep that to myself – usually. I’ll add that the whole recovery, HotCold thing may come from the fact that my very injury-prone muscles and a couple of ice baths were put to the test following my school’s Annual Sports Meet a week ago)

culmination: Pt. I

(I don’t think poetry or songwriting are really turning out to be my thing hmm. That’s alright, I’ll persist with it xD)

disappointment,
disgrace, poignant,
flamboyant build-up,
pointless.

relentless augmentation,
as always, brazen,
now look at these,
amongst others, abrasion.

persuasion,
try me,
hung head ain’t raising,
I’m heading for the potation,
more to scathe me.

the endless search for Zion,
I ain’t buyin’
it no more,
can’t feel pious or pliant,
my idiosyncratic war.

I spoke hues,
for days,
weeks, won’t stop for decades
still a caught-out renegade.

the power of separate thought,
and the thought of separate power,
is this where I’ve been brought?
expected a brighter culmination.

in the face of
The Unwanted Visitor,
perhaps in your face
but on your side?
not even at first base,
I just need my space.

sucker.

(in the true spirit of The MonarchofMidnight, this post will keep expanding, so do feel free to come back and check up on any updates as frequently as you wish :D)
(this happens to be my first poem/song xD I amn’t taking into consideration that one vain, clueless four-line, twenty-word attempt in fifth grade xD)
(I believe an apology is in order for about four months sans blog activity :/ )
sucker for art
sucker for thought
want a restart
I’m a sucker always fraught
sucker for perfection

sucker for irony
test my comprehension
I’m a sucker for my rivalries

so much obscurity

I don’t do sororities
try to tame my polarity
pseudonym-ed temerity
sucker for my backseats
Ashley
Nicolette
Frangipane
she a genius
just like we
sleepless
striking uniqueness
king and queen
ayy you’re sixteen
‘pparently I’ve a smokescreen
the greatest of us contravene
off the beaten track
don’t fear attack
daily throwbacks
walk with this colourful megalomaniac
phase out
faze out
this hedonist
knows his ways out
sybaritic, that’s what this man is
no emotion, that’s what business is
approach me at your own risk, mortal
I could quiz your biz
can’t run away from schisms
creating rifts everywhere I go
shifts in paradigms and lore
man’s such a whizz, such a prism
all you bourbonists
rests for your wrists
while you tresspass her frists
why make me clench my fists
sucker you’ve scheduled our next trist
beat yo’ ass greased
I still ain’t appeased
maybe should’ve remained a priest
what a beast
pissed and unpeaced
peeeved and pieced
my fea(s)ts are cannibalistic