Giving Up The Ghost

From my series, Whispers To My Shadows.

You ever wish

That you could just rewind?

Go back in time,

And just turn out fine?

Well, I do,

I know that the chances are slim,

That we may not live it again,

But at least, we can imagine.

But when we aren't imagining,

We can't let it flash past again.

We’ve got to use our noses,

And smell the roses,

Take time to live it up.

And win it up,

And while you're at it, hell!

Even sin it up!

So here I am

Wishing and dreaming,

I could live it again.

As I lay here in my bed,

With the same old story in my head.

What could have been?

What would have been?

Or even what should have been?

A ghost,

A shadow,

A memory.

Not quite there,

Not quite clear,

Not quite worth the time.

So for my sake and yours

I think I’ll be finally giving up the ghost,

Because my body was nothing but another host,

I don’t wanna forget the past,

But I’d like to leave it behind.

Daydream (Dream Diary)

First published in the zine - The Dreamer Issue by Local Colour Zine

Download the Zine here.

What if you want to leave?

Fade to black in fantasy.

Don’t want to be found.

Don’t want to be seen.

Simply cut off from reality.

You take a leap!

Into the recesses of your mind,

You leap.

Not knowing whether you will land

Or if you will live.

Just a deep voice inside you,

Saying, “Don’t think, just leap”.

So driven by this urge

I dig my bare feet into the ground,

Raise my arms to the black sky,

Close my eyes so I can see,

Take one last breath,

And leap.

With my heart weighing me down

Like a sinking ship,

I leap.

And just as I do

I feel my spine tingle,

My legs go numb,

And I can hear my soul quiver.

It feels like I am nearing the end

So in a desperate attempt

I struggle and look up,

Hoping to see the moon one last time,

And I do.

In that pitch black,

I can see only the moon.

We lock eyes just for a moment,

A moment that feels like a lifetime,

And that is when it hits me,

The wind!

It captures me,

And raises me;

Higher than higher can be,

And slowly I begin to float.

Slowly I begin to dance.

Slowly I begin to soar,

And slowly I feel it cleansing my soul.

I feel the weariness wash out of me

Like a wave of soothing tranquillity.

The sound of it’s crashing waves

Echo through infinity.

I can see the stars again!

Each one luminous with the spark of a memory

Burning bright

With infinite shades of passion and peace.

I rise from the shimmering stars

And find myself standing before my soul

In all its breathtaking splendour.

An infinite spectrum of colours

Dancing behind.

A wondrous beauty

Beyond description.

I know at this moment

My mind will never be the same again.

I can’t possibly continue existence

Within reality the same way.

Not after conceiving this abstract concept

Of my soul.

And just then

The restrictive echo of reality returned

With the dull and numbing visage

And it’s cold concrete eyes

Steal colours from my mind.

A shriek!

A sudden blinding flash!

I am back in the fucking grind!

---

I started writing ‘Dream Diary’ when I was about 16. For as long as I can remember, I’ve suffered from insomnia, but whenever I did manage to get some sleep, I almost always had really vivid and lucid dreams. Some were fantastical, some were surreal, some were recurring, and some were downright morbid and terrifying, but they were always fascinating. So one day, I started jotting them down, for the fear I might forget them, even though some would be best forgotten. Last year, more than a decade later, I decided to compile them all in this series - of poems, proses and stories, drawn from the memories of these fascinating and mysterious dreams that have haunted me, inspired me, comforted me and always left me intrigued, obsessed and compelled to further explore the strange and bizarre world of dreams.

Illustration by Saloni Singh

Published by LocalColourZine

Come, Sing Along

As I stand here

In this crowd of strangers

I hear a familiar song.

One that strikes a chord

Deep down in my soul.

Songs of menacing righting’s of wrongs,

Blood on the street,

Breaking of bones,

Innocent lives dusted once gone,

Of courage and resilience,

And stories untold,

Of injustice and oppression,

And the lies broadcasted and sold.

Hear their bells,

Hear their gongs,

Hear the beating drums!

Listen to the song!

Strangers singing together,

Singing a familiar song,

Standing together,

Together as ‘one’!

Do you hear their song?

Does it strike a chord?

Deep down in your heart?

It is the song of rebellion.

So come,

Come sing along!

Featured in the Zine - ‘Resilience’, November 2020 issue by the Rights Collective, together with guest editors South Asian Sisters Speak (SASS), featuring brown womxn of south Asian descent. Read the Zine here.

Here is a playlist - Resilience curated by each of the featured writers in the Zine .