Happiness: A First Person Perspective

I used to be found in times of youth
an emotion uncorrupted 
where my every act, albeit uncouth
came across unscripted

It was during those days
I had no definition
a free spirit that found its ways
not deemed as an emotion

but time, the eternal meddler
it too, found its way
from a baby to a toddler
I slowly began to sway

towards the tangible,
oft between toys and treats
it was only what was visible
that made my heart beat

and from a toddler to a child,
I found myself anew
still free, still wild
but slowly slipping into

the regiment of routine,
and the bustling of boundaries
when creating a scene
no longer ended in revelries

and I found myself attracted
to experiences unknown
as adolescence abducted
my innocence, now forlorn 

and suddenly, I seemed lost
tangled up in uncertainty
it came at the cost
the price of puberty

that is when you,
decided I was a mere guest
a fleeting moment that passed through
only accessible at your best

as a result
my appearances were controlled
something to do with you being an adult
and having no reason to uphold

the childish demeanor
that was flaunted without worry
where once I was eager
where once I wasn’t sorry

for as time had its say,
you slowly understood the feeling
I was never meant to stay
I was merely, a state of being

and so I found my mojo
as old age caught your hand
but how was I to know
that this was your final stand

and so you called upon me,
when life seemed to fade away
you said, “Happiness, I set you free,”
“But I know that you will stay.”

PS: The poem talks about how happiness speaks of itself, throughout the process of life. It has a negative look towards it, speaking about how it gradually diminishes as we grow old, from a toddler to a baby, a baby to a boy, from adolescence to adulthood, till you finally breathe your last. the final paragraph basically talks about how, at the time of death, we remember the good, happy times that we spent, and how in our time of death, we set happiness free, as everyone around is cries, not knowing that happiness/joy, stays, in memory, or through the loves ones you leave behind.
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Despair

A child is hungry
but all he’s fed is lies
as all that he can see
is a world that ignores his cries

For he was born into a world
where gunshots were lullabies
often found curled
under desolate skies

He was told it’ll be okay
he’ll be fine and make it out
but the gods to whom he prays
only deepen his doubt

That the world beyond this
do they really care?
why do they ignore his pleas
and stay silent through his nightmare

And what of his friends?
casualties of political games
what can he defend?
when even his toys burst into flames

How can he believe?
when he’s equipped with an innocent stare
against guns and grenades that make him grieve
when all he’s ever known is despair.

Flow

I see the sun close out on the river
and feel the wind caress the waves,
a gentle breeze that makes me shiver
reminding me of the days,

where I liked to observe the sunset,
often when I’d like to confine,
watching as the waves beset
calmly against the shoreline

and I’d feel rather secure,
for I could speak of my yesteryear’s
and the crashing of the waves would ensure,
that nobody knew of my fears

the river would glimmer,
as the moonlight put to place,
the silver gleam of summer,
strewn across the surface,

that is when I loved gazing into the horizon,
lost in introspection
I’d see the tide slowly rising
serenading me with my reflection

and I would always refuse,
to accept that it could be,
the reason as to why I’m so confused,
was staring back at me,

and that tells me all I need to know,
about who can save me,
and just as the river flows
I’ll let time set me free.

In Circles

You looked at me one last time,
a fleeting glance, at best,
no words, no witty  remark or rhyme,
just a moment we put to rest,

as you walked away,
we knew it was the end,
there was nothing left to make us stay,
so we picked up the pieces and tried to mend,

our broken souls,
the few fragments we could find,
trying to cleanse ourselves whole,
from each others minds,

and I guess we did succeed,
until once again, we met,
the same coffee shop where we freed,
the memories which made us regret

at first, I was uncertain,
but then it dawned on me,
that we were free from our burden,
and we had set each other free

but that was not the end,
for another street holds that glory,
when I saw you walking with a friend,
and all you could do was avoid me,

and this time, I did not break the ice,
for both of us could clearly see,
you were the versa, I the vice,
of all that we could be

Reversal

Heavily inspired by the song Lazarus by Steven Wilson. The song is about loss and about a mother reaching out to her child from beyond the grave. I attempted to bring forth a version presented from the point of view of the child reaching out to his mother from this realm. It follows a tune similar to the one in the song.
Feedback would be very much appreciated!

As a chilling touch,
scrapes my elbow,
I can feel your icy scent
through the morgue,

and then a voice inside my head,
breaks into a monologue,
you say,

Hold me now,
cause I’ll be gone, nevermore,
as my mind is revealing,
all the things I’d never shown,

Your words still lingers,
they help me cope,
for in the darkness of my world,
you were my hope,

So hold me now,
cause I’ll be gone, nevermore,
as my mind is revealing
all the things you’d never know

So hold me now,
cause I’ll be gone, nevermore,
as my mind is revealing
the time lost in woe,

Oh Mother, I’m so sorry,
I could not hold onto you,
my vision seems so blurry,
tears have run through,

(all these years are screaming, as silence now holds onto you)

So hold me now,
cause I’ll be gone, nevermore,
as my soul is revealing,
all the things i let go,

So hold me now,
cause I’ll be gone, nevermore,
as my soul is revealing
the world I let go…

 

Dark Necessities

There is a certain kind of darkness,
enveloping our environment,
in the form of a government
empowered by the greed for progress,

Repressively religious policies,
leading to cultural atrophy,
for chaos has a new identity,
behind orange strands of white supremacy

The power of a choice,
between monsters and democratic mires,
countries being led by demagogues,
pathetic principals, proficient perjurers

It has been noted that their fallacies,
enforced, via overnight misery
promises by a white knight,
forsaking the plebeians plight

We are puppets on strings,
threading pompous plans and opulent things,
giving in to the grandeur of greed,
knowingly sowing corruption’s seed

We’ve succumbed to blasphemy
publicized by media-ocre gimmicks,
buckling to societal entropy
proving that we’re all just cynics

These dark necessities,
are what humans have embraced,
if only we all could see,
what humanity has erased.