Significance

Significance,
A shiny little word.
A word on a song,
all my soul has heard.

A legacy that I wore like gold,
The pride of my life.
A warm flame I lived for,
In the cold cruel nights.

Years rained down,
And I looked for more.
Significance, I was taught,
is what our lives were for.

Without us, it was written,
The ends of fate would not meet.
For the grand scheme of the universe,
Would not be complete.

But the more I looked,
The more of my truth I lost.
I discovered my gold was lead,
And my flame, a frost.

I was, all along,
A prisoner of my pride.
Blinded by the shadows,
Of a world I desired.

And so I finally chose
To see with the light,
I awoke to the truth,
To the blasphemy of my life.

The wheels of cosmos
Will not stop for them or me,
Nor will the sun,
The sky or the sea.

A tiny instance,
On a speck of dust.
That is all I am,
And to know that, I must.

Oblivion is where I came from,
And that’s where I will be.
A forgotten second,
In the clock of infinities.

Significant,
I can never be.
But really when I think it,
Is that something that I need?

What is significance,
Compared to my mother’s laugh,
Or to the memories I have
With my other half?

What is significance,
compared to knowing,
What and why
And how did now happen?

To be anything at all,
Is a miracle of its own.
And to think I can ponder,
and perceive and feel and write all these poems!

If an instance is all I have,
I will spend it with savour!
To hell with significance!
I will live away in splender!

Thinking of yourself first

Thinking of yourself first has often, if not always, been viewed as selfish or self-centered. At least, here where I live.

But I think being selfish has nothing to do with prioritising what’s important to you.

Whether you are selfish or not depends on how considerate you are of other people’s situations.

Remember you can still be thinking of others first, but be inconsiderate of their feelings. It doesn’t always have to be that way.

Thinking of yourself first can be reflecting what’s going to be your next move based on what you feel, what you think is right, how your actions will be affecting others.

It can be deciding to do what is best for you while considering whether that action will result into inevitable pain of the people involved.

But remember that in deciding, you should be mindful not to be toxic to anyone, especially to yourself. Even though the best decision doesn’t always make you happy, don’t forget to consider how you would feel.

I’ve seen a lot of people give up on their happiness for the sake of conforming into other people’s preference of how they should live their lives.

Consider all arguments on all sides and decide whats best for you and the people you love. If they disagree, remember that if they love you enough they will stay by your side no matter what. If they don’t, well, you have yourself. Once you learn to have love and appreciation for yourself, no one should be able to take it away.

There’s no point in continuing to be toxic to yourself.

There’s no relevance in letting pain and suffering take over your life.

Because, why? Why should we continue to let that happen? We are all worthy of being thought first. We’re worthy of happiness.

Would you?

Would you?

Pacing about the streets in a thin cottoned shirt,
would you stroll around town like a girl would?
Freely underneath, your dress waves with the wind,
Nothing under your top to make you feel less good.

Walk about your day in the bright hot afternoon,
would you cover yourself like a girl would?
The shape of your chest, the curve of your back,
if you make it too obvious, its bound to attract.

The eyes of an unwanted,
drunken amorous.
It’s immorality, its biology, whatever they say.
Would you submit to fear like a girl would?

Or would you think like a man,
and warn yourself,
before you go about your day,
Lay out the rules so your safe.

Dress like you should,
Talk like you should,
Act like you should.
What even are the should’s?

Your options are counted,
your consequences inevitable.
Shove it under the rug,
it’s not that much trouble.

Would you go about your life like a girl would?

A Calm Storm

A girl walks with a calm storm over her head.
She walks with ease.
Looming thunder claps echo through the clouds,
Her pride bends like bamboo in the wind,

then breaks at the strong pull of the breeze.

She flinches.

Rain starts to fall,
and it leaks through the walls of which she wears.
The armory clanks as the water drips,
Like due drops do on snaleless shells.

Cold hard wind blows through the empty halls beneath her soul.

Her sky urges to rage,
“Hold it in”, she says.

And when she couldn’t anymore,
Like a waveless sea under the dark dancing atmosphere,
She persists,

She resumes.

 

Windows and Portraits

Windows and Portraits
by M.R.B

People paint portraits of you.
Your friends slightly closer than most.
Fingers slide through the canvases,
And you strike a post.

A stranger takes notice of you,
walking on the side.
The colors mesh and mold together,
A blurry figure in his mind.

They think they’re finished for a while,
and place them by the open window.
Strikingly blending with the view outside,
Its what you believe, its what you know.

The canvases move a little bit when the wind blows,
You take a closer look.
“Is that really me?”, you ask.
Your expression a little shook.

You see now,

In them, your nose is slightly different.
Your eyes– a little too sparkly.
In one you looked gorgeous,
In the other you looked dreary.

In frustration, you move them all away,
And sunlight fills the room as the window clears.
Breath in courage, you mutter,
Breath out fear.

As you wipe your tears with the back of your hand,
you gain a clearer sight.
And you see that the place outside was not so different,
than the view from the inside.

Your eyes wander back inside the room,
It makes a convincing mirror,
but its been warped,
you can see as you investigate a little closer.

A figure so similar to you emerges from out the window,
and you decide to paint her.
You think its accurate when you finish for a while,
very slightly though, they defer

Rain

Rain by M.R.B.

Rain, outside the window,
Rain, on all the streets
Rain, rain for all the sorrows,
Rain for those who weep.

Clouds cover the earth,
like the tears that cover these sheets.
There’s a cold from the rain that drifts upon me,
I feel it from my head to my feet.

I could hug all the blankets in the world,
drink the warmest of coffees,
but there’s nothing like the hug from your arms,
and the warmth from all your kisses.

I stop to smell the petrichor,
it’s just not like from when you were here before.
I should have known though, right from the start,
you’ll leave me with a rain in my heart.

My Thoughts on ‘The False Mirror’ by René Magritte

 The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. But sometimes, we prefer to see some parts over the others and choose to forget the rest, just to support our personal beliefs of how things should be.

Thus, reinforcing a preferred truth to ourselves. Our eyes are tools of vision, its the brain who interprets, filters and sometimes, crops things out.

My Question is…

How do you wage war and seek peace at the same time?

My Thoughts On War

I want to address something that’s been bugging me for awhile, and I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in this.

I’ve always considered myself as a peaceful soul. I wouldn’t involve myself in any form of argument if it can be helped. And if I am, I would often tell my side in a calm approach. No matter what happened, I never liked to involve myself in a dirty conflict, and I’m talking about conflicts that would happen on a regular basis, a little misunderstanding.

But what if a way bigger conflict occurred– a war perhaps?

I live in a country where it smells like war is coming, but– we’re far from prepared. No underground bunkers, no gas masks, drill practices, and so on. Hell, we aren’t even armed enough! If a huge country waged war on us, we’re done for. And that’s what I’m afraid of.

I’ve reread The Diary of Ann Frank enough times, I hate war more than anything in this world. But this morning, as I was reading the news, I had a hunch that it might come soon, in my lifetime. I hate to think that its inevitable. Are humans really that cruel? Haven’t we had enough with wars?

Supreme leaders carry the lives of millions of people on their shoulders with ease but some of them don’t even seem to mind that. You would think that we’d choose someone whose worthy.

Why are there people who want to hurt others so bad? Is it right to sacrifice the lives of millions from the other corner, just to benefit the millions on your corner?

Do they really desire that much?

Somewhere in this world, a child is born with dreams of becoming a someone when they grow up. What could happen to them and their families if war broke out?

We could all die in this.

Or is this just my anxiety? But how could I not feel anxious?

You might think I’m a coward. You could say that– I’d understand. But I’m not afraid of dying. I’m afraid that humanity could end before it reached its true potential, that we could end before we lived enough.

The Sea of Self-Hatred

The Sea of Self-Hatred
By M.R.B.

The Sea of Self-Hatred
A boat filled with holes
She’s a swimmer they say,
she can do well on her own

The storm is raging,
She prepares to dive
Grasping for air, oh it’s not fair
The only sea she can’t swim is her mind