Blackout Poetry

She wants a holiday.

Literally!

She wants to leave that room,

And run around like a maniac.

She twirls and twists,

In her long held dreams

Of escaping into the jungles,

And watch fireflies dance.

She has acquired a new dimension

Over the last few years.

With only 20 or 30 days more,

That is, if it kills her first.

- Karen 

(The above poetry is derived from words or sentences picked out from a travel article. Done as part of my Creative Writing class assignment.) 

You will never want...

… to be unwanted in a place you call “home”.

… to be lonely even in the company of friends.

… to be unable to sleep even when you’re exhausted.

… to be happy but no one to share it with.

… to be elated and then deflated.

… to have children, but they treat you like a “stranger”.

… to have a job, but no certainty.

… to have no reason to smile even in echoes of laughter.

… not to be childlike just ‘cause you’re physically mature.

… to want things you know you will never have.

… to hate the ones you love.

… to love something, not ‘cause you want to but because you have to.

… to be alive but dead from the inside.


- Karen

About an old man.

There once lived an old man, an old, lonely man.

He had many dreams, which he thought would benefit the world.

Some of which were good, others, not so.

So this old man with a few strands of hair on his head,

Stood in front of the mirror and began combing his hair.

Looking at himself in his crisp white shirt,

He felt patriotic, and joining the army was something he considered.

But he was an old man, and such thoughts were simply insane.

All he could do now, was to sit by the corner and watch the sky all day.

But this old man was restless.

He had nothing to do, so he said to himself,

“Why don’t I do something for my country instead?”

So with the fire in his belly,

He roamed the streets of Delhi.

He then went to a government office and asked for some stuff to get done.

The clerk said to him, “Sahebji, it’ll take some time, we have a lot to do, but not enough time to get it done.”

He was an old man, and ‘bribe’ was a new word he had learnt.

So he took out his wallet, with a few notes he got from his pension.

And he passed a couple from under the man’s table.

Shocked at seeing a hand under his desk, the man exclaimed,

“Sir! What is your hand doing down there?”

Embarrassed by the whole situation,

He quietly said, “Please young man, I don’t have much time.”

So the man took those bills and immediately speeded up the process, giving the old man some relief.

Happy at what he accomplished that day,

The old man set out in a dark path way.

It was there that his luck had turned around,

A few masked men threw him to the ground,

Stole the money in his wallet and began to run.

He didn’t care, as long as he was alive.

So he began his long walk home,

But somewhere along the road, his tummy began to groan.

So he stopped by a local ‘dhaba’ and ordered for some ‘kebabs’.

But the man behind the counter asked for cash before his order,

So he dug into his pocket and found his empty wallet.

His empty tummy made him grumpy,

He had no money now, so he went home hungry.

He looked at his tired face in the mirror again, and hoped that he wouldn’t have to face the same things again.

Angry and hurt that all his money was gone, he cursed those thieves, the government and the system at large.

With tears building up in his eyes, he made a pledge before going to bed that night,

That he would start a fight for every man’s right.

And that he wouldn’t sleep nor eat till his country was free from corruption and greed.

This was his promises that he pledged to keep.

But not tonight, he had to sleep.

- Karen Pereira.

Inspired by my father's sudden interest in recent issues pertaining to the Lokpal bill. This is not to hurt anyone's sentiments... just my frustration on hearing the same things in the news everyday.

When I climbed 2000 feet...

There was a time in my life,

When I climbed 2000 feet.

It was tiring and frustrating,

But I’m alive and still kicking.

The place was called Dzukou,

A valley you had to climb to see.

Cut away from the world and civilization,

A haven on earth it seemed.

A group of forty we were,

Two, above 40 and the rest below.

Who found the climb easier?

Other than our guides, no one in particular.

Our wake-up call came at 3 am,

We were physically alive, but mentally dead.

Packed our bags and tightened our shoes,

To visit a place only a man called ‘Sudhu’ would choose.

So we started our climb,

From a place called Khonoma.

It was the only time that I cried,

Internally for my Mama.

My memories of the place,

They are very vague.

All I know,

We walked for an entire day.

Half way through the climb,

I thought I was going to die.

But the thought of my Sir behind,

Changed all the negativity in my mind.

The mud, my feet,

The fog and some Twilight trees.

Were some of the things I still can imagine,

Other than the weird plants pricking my skin.

The flora and fauna,

I barely saw.

Just my shoes, pants and hands,

For a whole 16 hours.

I reached the top!

But saw no “Awesome” valley.

No stream or river,

Just some bushes and burnt trees.

Positive that this was the view we came to see,

All I needed now was a good night’s sleep.

Only when Sir mentioned the stuff he saw,

Did I realised that my feet, sky and ground were the only things I saw.

Oh well,

In the words of a great woman I met today.

She said, “It isn’t the top that is wonderful,

But the experience that makes it beautiful.”

The view from the top :  Dzukou Valley, Nagaland.

Karen Pereira.

Life in BMM

I wake up in the morning,

And from then starts the yawning.

To get up from bed,

My mom eats my head.

As I walk through the hall,

I doze though it all.

Then I thank God for sleep,

The greatest gift of them all.

Then at college, I finally reach,

Only to hear the lecturer screech.

None of it makes any sense,

Maybe my mind is just too dense.

But then again don't think that matters,

It’s actually the college timing

That's left my sleep in tatters.

When at last college is over,

A vision of my beloved bed begins to hover.

I head home fast,

But Damn what the hell,

I've got projects as well!

Then I curse god

Who made sleep and studies as well,

How couldn't you know the two aren't ever gonna gel?

The sun set, and the clock ticked on,

My thoughts of sleeping are now long gone.

Typing like mad,

Editing and backspacing till I got an overall count of 2000.

A deadline to meet,

A tired brain, unwilling to compete.

Then at last I head to bed,

It was so welcoming that I just dropped dead.

Now not even the demon under my bed, nor the creepy insects,

Will wake me up from this wonderful sleep,

For now, I am at peace!

We call this Life!!!



The Doggy Song

(Make up your tune and sing along... it'll be FUN!!!) :)

Hey there little doggy,

So cute, soft and cuddly.

This song's for you,

For being my 'Bestest' buddy.

You go Bow,Wow, Wow,

At the cow.

I clean your Tic, Tic, Tics,

Round the clock.

We don't miss our Sundays,

At the park.

Ch:

Hey diggy!

Dup - ti - dup...

It makes you funny,

Now don't you stop!!!

You go Squeak, Squeak, Squeak,

When your feeling weak.

You like to Lick, Lick, Lick,

Your chew stick.

It ain't so Cute, Cute, Cute,

When you fart.

Ch:

Hey diggy!

Dup - ti - dup...

It makes you funny,

Now don't you stop!!!

All you do is, Eat, Eat, Eat,

Till you sleep.

And go Poo, Poo, Poo,

When you wanna Poop.

You just Stare, Stare, Stare,

At the cats.

Ch:

But hey little Doggy,

Dup - ti - dup...

It makes you funny,

So don't you stop!!!

(Sing it all over again ) :P

- Karen Pereira.

My song is a little messed up... but I came up with this sitting in a Boravali Slow, and needed something to keep my friends and me entertained. :P We had fun singing this, hope it atleast brings a smile to your face (which I'm sure it did).

The Puddle

Waiting at the bus stop,

As time ticked slowly by.

I idly looked at a puddle,

And found it staring back.

Co- incidence or inevitable,

Or just a reminder from above?

Of the emptiness that tugged,

From deep within my heart.

Happiness, joy, hope and fear,

Are feelings that I hold so dear.

For if not these, there is nothing,

That nothingness, I fear.

For there will always be a missing piece in me,

After that day I said, “Goodbye.”

And the emptiness to remind me,

Of the love and dreams I left behind.

But this is life!

As sad as it may seem.

I must move on,

And not let that emptiness consume me.

- Karen Pereira.

Goodbye and thank you for the memories.

To, whom so ever it may concern...

To,

Whom so ever it may concern.

We weren’t the best,

We were different.

We weren’t stupid,

We preferred keeping quiet, than blabbering like you’ll.

We weren’t lazy,

We just liked doing things in our pace.

We didn’t “LOVE” each other,

That’s what made working together ‘Fun’.

We didn’t seek your advice, not ‘cause we were arrogant,

We believed in ourselves.

That festival was not our ‘Baby’,

It was our ‘Duty’ which we strived to perform well.

Its not that we didn’t like you’ll,

We hated the way you’ll underestimated us.

Remember, you’ll weren’t the best,

Neither were we.

We were given our chance,

And we showed what we could be…

- Karen Pereira.

The Mumbaikars' Cry

Another day of remorse,

Another day of grief,

Another day of loss

Another victory to that thief.

Time and time again,

We see ourselves hanging between life and death,

No choice to make

The outcomes set.

Not long ago,

We felt the same,


When they destroyed our city.

But this time,

It is a feeling of shame.

No more can I suppress the anger inside me,

No more can I just watch silently,

The poisonous deeds of a few who terrorized our city.

My heart goes out to those who faced it,

I know nothing and no one,

Will break their spirits.

For the rest of us,

We got another day to forget,

Another traumatic memory,

Another day to thank God

For showing us his mercy.

-Karen Pereira and Astrid Pereira.

Forgotten Memories

The picture stood lonely.

As it lay there in the dust

The glass scarred with time,

The frame consumed by rust.

As I bent down to pick it up

I’d already made up my mind.

That it was an inconvenience to discard

Nothing worthy of a find.

But as the dust cleared off its surface

And its countenance began to show,

Two smiling faces beamed at me

And I saw a friend I forgot I’d known…

Days and spaces that were ours

Those smiling faces now revealed

Though I knew you were no more…

Time’s ravages finally healed.

Your last words as you drove off

Were that we’d never be apart

But I thank you for this gift…

As I hold it to my heart.

- Karen

A Ray of Hope.

Look up to the East

The sun will shine.

Bolting out the travails of the days gone by

Get up.

Lift your self from your tired bed

All that is troubling

May not be lost as yet.

Take courage, and face the day.

The sun will shine

Though fettered by occasional rain.

Say a pray and hope for the best

There is work to be done

Before you lay your tired head to rest.

The fragrance of your effort

Will make you forget the pain.

Storm clouds may gather

The sky may tremble.

But never lose sight of that flickering light

It will gradually glow

And its rays will warm your heart.

There is always light at the end of all tunnels,

And it is not always of an oncoming train.

This has often been said

But still yearns to be heard

The sun is peeking at you

There is always a promise – at the end of the rain.

-Karen Pereira.

Forgotten.

There she is!!!
In that dark corner.
Away from everyone,
She has ever knew.

Lost and abandoned in this world.
She is helpless,
And wanders meaningless thrugh life.

She can’t make decisions on her own.
She can’t live the life she wants to.
Just because she’s a girl?

She wants to walk freely, with the others in the world.
She wants to spread the gospel of love.
She wants to be known, not ignored!

But because of you and your stupid beliefs,
She is stuck there, chained to the corner of your house.
Just dreaming about the world that lies behind those walls.

- Karen Pereira

My Last Wish

Life has so many tricks up its sleeve,

One day you're happy, another day you're sad.

Some days your great, some other days, mad.

You can never predict what your life holds,

Until your eyes watch it unfold.

You should be cautious how life suddenly changes its tracks.

One moment you seem to be enjoying it,

And in a split second it’s axed.

Unfortunately…

Everyone does have to give up on life one day,

And begin to walk alone on death's dark path way.

Like everyone, today is his turn.

Giving up on everything he has, as he sees no return.

Giving up so early,

Twenty-one he was, and ever so merry.

Gone before his time.

No last kiss or hug, not even a “Good-bye.”

Phone calls to some, messages to others,

Telling them all, we had just lost ‘Our brother’.

All his life he brought us joy,

With his wit and humor bringing us tears of joy.

But today is different as I stand here alone,

No big- brother to call my own.

No more late nights and petty fights,

No more raiding the kitchen and blaming it on Brandi.

There is a big list of the things I’d never do without you.

But one thing that I’d forever do,

Is never- ever forget you.




- Karen Pereira

Far Corners

I felt the flames,

Burning strongly within me.

It wasn’t right,

But I hoped it would be.

Time flew by,

And so did the days.

I tried to approach him,

But courage vanished at such a stage.

I loved him truly,
Or so I thought,

And imagined all of the possibilities,

Of holding him close and having him all for me.

I imagined myself rapped in his arms,

As he caressed my face with a touch so soft.

I imagined the passion and pleasure I’d feel,

Had he been with me for just one night.

Then that day came,

When our eyes met.

He approached me for a dance,

This could have been my only chance.

It was clear that I wanted him,

And he seemed willing to go all the way.

I hesitated a bit,

But he pulled me close and wispered my name.

The goose bumps rose all over my skin,

I had him now and that was it. 
I spilt my drink, but he didn’t seem to mind,

Today was going to be our special night.

 He flicked his wrist,

And his wedding band did shine.

As though God,

Was pointing out a clear sign.

Why did this have to happen all at once?

Had he realised what he had?

Was it worth more than what could be?

Heartbreaking memories.

I once knew a girl,

She was as happy as could be.

Innocent of 11 or 12 one would say,

Did nothing wrong and kept herself out of harms way.

I met her again in the mirror that day,

She seemed sad, but I couldn’t tell.

I smiled at her and she smiled back,

But with sadness I wished she never had.

If eyes could tell stories,

They revealed hers to me.

And in those eyes I got lost,

In memories of joy, pain and grief.

There was that bitter memory,

One she promised never to keep.

She then flinched and I flinched too,

But I promised, “Only between me and you.”

And so she started that story,

The one she dared never to tell.

In fear that one day that man,

Would haunt her dreams again.

She stood behind her bathroom door,

With a man she called ‘uncle’ holding her uncomfortably close.

Her dad was there just a few feet away,

But he was occupied by something that had come his way.

She looked at him innocently,

Knowing something was wrong.

And he gave her a dirty look,

One that said, “You are mine now.”

He touched her in places without her consent,

As she stood still and shocked with nothing to defend.

Her father stood there still unaware,

Of his daughter’s innocence being stolen while he stood there.

The images went blurry,

As she began to cry.

I wanted to comfort her,

But those tears were mine.

That girl in the mirror,

Wasn’t just ‘somebody.’

‘She’ was ‘Me’,

Lost in a heart breaking memory.

- Karen Pereira.

This poetry was inspired from the movie Northern Country. I started this poetry in my F.Y and finished it this year (S.Y)... it was supposed to be a part of a T.Y.B.M.M initiative but I couldn't finish it then.

The Scar

Wake her up from this horrible dream,

She can't think straight all she wants to do is scream.

Standing there, helplessly, trying to get hold of that last tear,

Thinking to herself, “Oh!! Why do I still have this crazy fear?”

Walking along the road all alone,

No friends, no family, nothing she can call her own.

Closing her eyes a million times,

Hoping one day she will be free from all her yearnings inside.

Hearts were broken,

Tears ran dry.

Dreams were shattered,

She then realized that he was all that mattered.

She wondered if it was her fault- to wait for so long,

Why couldn’t she see that everything was just so wrong?

Then started the war between her heart and mind,

Who was to win? Wouldn’t it be easier to just play blind?

Struggling with emotions with no words to say,

If only he could come back into her arms today.

Staring at the dark cloud with tears rushing down her chin,

Mourning on the fact that she knew she could never win.

Looked around, realized that she had nothing left to loose,

He made his choice,

Now it was her time to choose.

Went down on her knees, and prayed with all her soul,

She made a promise; it was time to let him go.

She buried her sorrows and took back that star.

But she would always be stuck with that awful SCAR....

-Karen Pereira

This poetry is written in context with the book Twilight Saga- New Moon when Edward Cullen leaves/ breaks- up with Bella Swan and her struggle to pull her life back together.

Lucky Number Seven

Byculla was hit with a series of murders that kept dad on his toes, and shuffling between home and work for the past six months. Dad, Chief Blake, was the head of the homicide team. His work got him into a lot of trouble dealing with criminals and psychopaths. Our mail man often brought us anonymous letters. He once caught a glimpse of the man who left us these notes. He was well built and walked with confidence. He looked a lot like Eminem and had the most deadly stare.

A month ago, dad came home with his case files, one for each of the six years that went by. I wasn’t allowed to enter his study-room, let alone peek into those huge files. For a wonder, that day dad left his work and went down to buy himself a pack of smokes. Curiosity took over and I went in to see what kept him so busy. I went in for a peek, but there were just too many papers, notes, and pictures… gruesome pictures. I didn’t know what happened, but my hands suddenly went numb and the file fell to the floor with a soft thud. I recollected myself and picked all the papers up and made sure that I kept the file the same way it was left. I suddenly felt eyes watching me and as I raised my head, and there he stood.

“Dad!” I froze. His eyes fuming, “What are you doing here? I thought I told you never to cum in here…” he almost screeched.

Words wouldn’t come to my mind. I couldn’t say anything, so I decided to walk to my room in silence. Not knowing what to do I went to bed. I wanted to apologise but confronting dad when he was angry was never a good idea.

I crept into my bed and fell into this deep sleep. My eyes which didn’t seem that heavy couldn’t stay open. No sooner did I close my eyes that I wandered into a dream. It was so real. I heard screams and mourns’ of people, coming from all different directions. As I sprinted towards one, another came up, louder each time, almost calling me, begging me to come to them.

Suddenly it all went silent. The surroundings changed, and with every change, I came closer to something lying limp on the floor. But it wasn’t the same thing, it changed with every background. I was suddenly standing in a pool of blood unable to move but still getting closer to those objects. My eyes popped in fear! If I could scream, I would have. But who would have heard me?

“Dad?” Where was he? Where was I?

I continued to get closer and finally it all stopped. What lay in front of me was dead bodies. Each of which belonged to people unknown to me, but there was something about the way they were chopped, no, not chopped but carved, all in equal pieces of 7. Who were they? By the looks of it, they seemed to be beggars or prostitutes one in particular was an old lady, I knew so by her wrinkled face.

In moments, fear gripped me as two massive hands grasped my shoulders. “Dad!”

“I’m here, don’t be frightened… I’m here.” He said in a rather soothing voice. “Mur…ders” I said in a trembling voice, “all of them, what did they do? Why daddy? Why?” My voice broke and I began crying, crying not because I was frightened, but because I was safe.

Fear was written all over his face, but he picked up some kind of courage and said in a soothing tone, “Go to sleep, nothing bad is going to happen. It was just a dream”… “I want to know!” I pleaded. He took me in his arms and rocked me back and forth and what he was going to say was something I wasn’t prepared for.

“There is a serial killer on the loose!” he said with a long pause, wondering if telling me was a good idea. “He kills only on the 7^th of every 7^th month.” And I suddenly felt his hands tighten around me. “Today is the 4^th, dad.” “I know, and so I want you to be vigilant and careful. We don’t know who he is. Similar cases haven’t appeared on our criminal list. He could be anyone.” His heart beat suddenly took off and his hands turned cold.

“Dad, you are going to catch him…?” I meant it as a statement but it came out as a question. “Yes…?” Somewhere deep down neither of us was convinced of that idea. No one could be blamed, how could you catch someone who left no trace and no witnesses?

“Go to bed now! You have got an early day tomorrow.” He let go of me and the cool breeze gripped me. I slid under my bed sheet and squeezed my eyes shut. “Good night,” dad said softly, “hmm…”

The next two days went by.  Nothing unusual happened. Dad was immersed in his work, as usual while I sat at the window and watched the cars and people go by. They never looked up, but I didn’t bother. As soon as I thought of this, a fair man who happened to be standing below my window looked up and smiled. I found that weird, but it didn’t bother me, so I smiled back.

The next day, the 7^th of July, I woke up with a start. I was late for school. “Shoot”, I had only 20 minutes. I got dressed quickly and ran out of the house, slamming the door behind me. I ran to the BEST bus stop, but missed it, the next bus was expected in half an hour. “Why bother!” I said to myself and walked back home.

I reached my main door and found it open. “Oh! My God! I left the door open” I said to my self in disapproval. I opened the door and shut it behind me. The mail man had dropped off a letter addressed to me. “Wow, a letter for me?”

I opened it and was confused at what I saw. It was a piece of paper with some kind of symbol on it. It looked familiar but I wasn’t sure why or where I had seen something like that.

Throwing my bag on the sofa, I walked towards my bedroom. I heard a shuffling of feet, “Oh good, Dad, you’re here. Why didn’t you wake me up?”

There was no response. “Da…ad?” my heart raced in a matter of seconds. A lump rose in my throat. There he stood, the man I thought I’d never have to fear. The man I smiled at, the one below my window. He raised his hand with a gun pointed straight at me. He had a huge knife which wouldn’t go unnoticed. Then it occurred to me that the symbol on my letter was the same as that of the victims. I was going to die.

 If I could think or even reason with myself, I would have. But I couldn’t. Then the thought of jumping out of my window occurred to me. I lived on the 1^st floor, and so, having fractured bones would be way better than being dead and chopped to pieces. But I was frozen. Nothing moved! “Jump!” the voice inside my head pleaded with me, but I stood still.

Then out of no where, “Get down!” and without making a conscious effort I found myself falling to the floor. A gun went off the same second and something warm touched my face. It was blood. Was I shot? Was I dead? What happened? I must have fainted.

I then woke up in a stationary ambulance and dad was there, and with him a couple of other officers. I over heard them say that I was the killer’s 7^th victim on the 7^th month of the year 2007.

- Karen Pereira.