Misinterpreted

Misinterpreted

No matter what, people are beautiful. They can be broken or whole or abused or depressed or fearful or crazy beautiful, but still we are- beautiful, and with full confidence on that, and no freaking excuse or write up or poem, prose or a book about being abused or maltreated could ever change that…

This is a rambling beware! Lol!

I figured some people may never understand why something so horrible like being abused could be stated as something beautiful or achingly beautiful, why? Because we need to hold on to pain??? I don’t understand! Sure enough, being maltreated is not a good thing, so why am I saying it’s beautiful to begin with?

I know what it feels like to be abused, be depressed, I know it like the back of my hands. If something was written in regards to abuse and depression and I said it is beautiful if only for the thought that it was written beautiful and I could relate to it, does the author have to really drag the readers to just try to enlighten them that no, this is dark and bad and you should be angry or sad but you don’t give me a comment it’s beautiful. What was that all about? You know readers are humans too, they think, though there are times some don’t. But that’s another story. lol! don’t tell me how to interpret your writings, don’t tell me which is beautiful and which isn’t. In the event that you do, I would never even want to read any single write from you, no matter how good you are, because it just shows how emotionally unprepared you are for the moment. Okay, I won’t get personal, I might read them but you’ll get no reaction from me. haha! Of course, I think highly of my self worth like that 😜

A writer, if I perceived you are, can not always spoon-feed the thoughts in your reader’s mind. or at least that’s how I thought it is. Haha You can not always do that. One way or another people will interpret your writings 180 degrees and you may get sad and heart broken that it wasn’t your intention or message, butpeople are freaking different! Seriously, if you care about your writings being misinterpreted, then don’t post them at all! When things are posted public there’ll always be different views about it, and I personally think, it is one of the writer’s job to try to understand various views while not drowning into any of the views/ dramas given, for at the end of the day, a writer knows what he had written…of course bullying aside, that’s another story

If I say I find your write beautiful even though it is horrible and dark, shouldn’t you think I might be referring to your skills as how you’ve written it? There are various ways to interpret something, it can not be that just because it is death we are talking about, it has to be all sad, no! Moreover, just because we talked about life, it urgently feeds beauty..

Chances of your writings, our poems, of being misinterpreted and taken out of context will always be there, waiting to grab us and pull us down. But, you know there are a lot of like minded people who will always connect and sometimes I don’t understand, why a simple but meaningful ‘beautiful’ compliment could be taken out, of context too…

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April 17th

Today will have to be more like a prose in regards to the Boston attack

If I were to carve my head wide open, I will find names I did not know made me.

I recently told my friend how, cruel documentaries could turn me into some absurd irrational person capable of inflicting pain towards another human being who could not, with all their hearts on their chest, beating organically like us, shows compassion towards another life form.

The verisimilitude of me, resenting people at times like those, is high. Lol!
However, I, no matter in what circumstances and instances, is in fact, glad to be human. I just don’t think that sometimes, it’s something to be proud of. Haha!

Moreover, news this morning made me took a walk and find refuge under the shade of a huge tree. Wherein, lightness and darkness simultaneously touched my skin as the wind took the leaves to dance to console me. This is the kind of tree that no matter how I strive to embrace wouldn’t allow me to. My hands could cradle one of the most precious gift of life, yet I can’t hug a tree. Which made me question my ‘abilities’ as a ‘human’ being. Then I close my eyes as the wind gently blows away my hair and whispers behind my ears, ” Karla, your hands may have graced the most treasured gifts you humans could have traced your hands with, and that is fine, but for us, you are the most invaluable, delicate present we could ever had. Allow us, the privilege to make you feel it so.” (Ahh!! this is probably one of the best part of being human, i told myself) and before I could even start analyzing things, I realized I was being nestled by nature’s loving arms, in the form of a tree…and my worry that by the time it is quiet, much will have been said and nothing will have been done, finally subsided…

April 14th

Beaten Path

It must have been onerous
to mature as you are
the agony of living alone
leaning on no one

I couldn’t write your pain
how you weep inside
why hope become a stranger
and love you couldn’t meet

It scares me
to unravel a suffering
that could break me
in the process of discovering

But, allow me to- hold you
in ways no one ever could
in details you’ll treasure
in an infinite moment times infinity

and I swear, goodness I swear
I will dive in your pool of ache
cherish your every scars
one by one
by one by one-

for they have beaten a path that-
leads to a long lost
me…

©Bluesirie 201304

April 8th

I Miss You

You left me with an unfathomable feeling-
of sadness and longing
without something, to hold on to-
without you…

and it breaks me, god-
to a thousand pieces
as this pain keeps kissing me-
at the thought, of missing you!

Tell me how it’s done?
to breathe now that you’re gone
to stop crying in the night
darkest hour, how will I fight?

Let this ground devour me
once and for all
let the pain end it’s call
let death, upon me falls

for if another heart-ripping comes
even death would be ashamed
for there’s no greater tragedy-
than lovers divided, by destiny…

If i may have to be selfish

“It’s just hard to see a friend hurt this much. Especially when you can’t do anything except “be there”. I want to make him stop hurting, but I can’t.”
–The Perks of Being a Wallflower

I know that I am not starving
and I could consider myself-
fortunate
Because people will tell me;
“meanwhile in Africa..” and I’ll have to live grateful hearing that

-and it’s not just in Africa

But what if you’re hurt?
Pain isn’t selective. It delivers when it needs to
-despite your status, gender or your skills

And people will tell you
About the moon and the stars
the flowers and the bees
and paint in your eyes the vivid colors- out there

They will tell you about the real friends you have
the quality of your chandelier
your assets and your koi fish in the pond

Or how even when they’re on the honor’s list
their parents didn’t want to attend the ceremony because-
they didn’t come on top of everybody in the class

-they will tell you how lucky you are and the beauty of the world we live in

But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re upset or hurt or in pain.
And even if others have it worse
You still have, what you have
But you would give up the colors for it to stop
Or the beauty around and live in black and white.

And you want them to stop

stop looking at the world out there
at the past, on others,
stop looking at themselves

-and look at you
and be there