Mystery (Rhythmical Rant)

Life is a mystery;

One that I’ll never really fathom.

Yet I still study its history,

Forming thoughts to help me imagine.

 

Rules change,

And concepts never apply.

Try as you might– you’ll still be strange,

Try some more, but by a corner you’ll still cry.

 

Should we care—

About the things people say?

Fight it fair and square?

Or let their knives deform you like clay?

 

And who you are–

Upon what is that based?

On what they saw described in your star?

Or everything else you once faced?

 

But then,

Hasn’t the past already departed?

Why look into it again,

When it’s the thing I’ve long since parted?

 

Why judge me on the first glance,

When it’s only what you just saw?

I’ve still so much to enhance,

And it’s my life— it’s what I’ll draw.

 

And yet,

We care about reputation.

When it’s a sad, sad threat,

Looming over every single nation.

Well yes,

It’s their word against yours—

Indeed, a fine game of chess,

But who is it to settle the scores?

 

Now I think I’ve strayed a bit far,

So let’s get back to the subject.

I’ll talk about the scar,

And in that, I’ll be direct.

 

People judge,

People hurt.

They’ll walk round and trudge,

Not caring about what they blurt.

 

So now it’s only up to you,

To give them what they need.

Hand over the glue,

And tell them we’re all a broken breed.

 

No one’s perfect,

But that’s the way it should be.

In everyone lies a bit of a wreck,

Mostly hidden under the sea.

 

And yes: life’s still to me unknown,

But that’s one down and a million more to go.

With that one issue finally blown,

I guess I’ll just have to take it slow,

And believe that truths will one day rise and glow.

 

 

Hullo!

What did you think of my rather rhythmical rant? Enjoyed it? Should I make rhyming rants a thing or just get back to bulky paragraphs? Which part did you relate to the most? The bit about the glue and the one about the sea are my personal favourites, to be honest. 

Everything aside, I hope you all have a lovely day and I look forward to your feedbacks~

–Midnight Ranter (aka Ayaka)

The Screwdriver

Once, I was looking for this singular screwdriver and I couldn’t find it anywhere I looked. And mind, I rummaged through everything and every drawer to get it; but sadly resurfaced empty-handed.

My father, bless him, sees me in my disarrayed state and asks what I was looking for. When I told him, he asks me, ‘What colour is it?’

And I answer him and tell him it’s yellow.

He smiles-grins a little, looks me in the eye like he knows some secret I haven’t a clue on, and tells me that there was also a purple one, which was right under my nose and I couldn’t see it even though I searched that place at least three times.

The moral is: sometimes you’re looking for something in this distinct shape and never find it; but once you realise that the shape could change, you may as well find it right in front of you, hidden (or not so hidden) in plain sight, with you not having the least idea on. You just had your sights on something too distinct.

The end you’re looking for may not be there, but that doesn’t mean that there is no end. It just means that there’s a different shape and colour to it.

So open up your mind more as I have learnt to open mine.

Signed,

Midnight Ranter (aka Ayaka)

I saw the light

Four days without a phone,

And I felt like a newborn.

I looked around and saw the light,

And could’ve sworn it wasn’t as bright.

Looking around you was a thing of the past,

Now it’s a concept—a series of dreams that never really last.

I realised we’ve stopped enjoying our days,

Stopped looking for our craze.

I went to the ocean and saw the light,

And for once, I let go of the social fright.

I went to the beach and saw the stars,

And they looked like tiny and little lit jars.

I went to a place where I found solace,

A time where our phones didn’t take a toll on us.

In a night far away and hushed,

The surroundings pressed—mushed.

Everything stood still and muted,

And darkness spread; deep-rooted.

Fear wasn’t what plagued me,

It was fun that did; and for once I felt free.

I swam in a pool and raced the waves,

And the claws slipped away— freed us, the slaves.

So hop along and let go,

For one day or even two.

Search for that peace of mind,

And leave all that made you blind.

 

Howdy my most beloved readers! 

I’m sorry for being absent for a while now; but I went to a resort for a couple of days and had no internet connection there. Actually, I more-or-less got rid of my phone during those few days, and, truth be told, I felt rather liberated. Today’s little piece is about the feelings I felt there and the things I saw, and the peace I actually felt was beyond what words would do justice to; but it was all quite exhilarating. What I mean to say is: freeing ourselves of our electronic cages is a right we ought to hold on to; so do give yourselves a break– it’s truly wonderful. (Also, did you see that picture? Taken by yours truly xx) 

Love,

Midnight Ranter (aka Ayaka)  

Lost Within the Woods

Far away in the deep woods,

Danced the orange leaves,

The sun gently watched over them,

As the wind chased them in a corner.

But the dim light soon faded away,

And the earth grumbled,

The leaves panicked and fell over the shaking ground,

Then came, with a high speed, the stormy breeze.

There were no leaves left to fall,

And the trees trembled in a voice that is of an old man.

The lying leaves then,

Danced on the ground as the wind played with them.

But little did they know of the angry storm,

That approached cautiously from the west,

Gathering clouds in dark bundles.

The wind screamed obscenely,

And the bright flash of hot and angry lightening froze the woods.

Soon everything turned to ashes,

And the trees were nothing but hollow statues,

All lost within the woods.

 

Hello lovely readers! Up there was a free-verse that is a metaphorical depiction of things being all merry and happy when darkness and gloom lurked behind. It’s also a metaphorical message of not always having to fear the unknown– I mean, you saw the leaves? They still danced about even with the storm coming– they lived the moment. 

So live your moments and love all that makes you happy– those little things make you stronger for when the darkness really comes and you’re lost within the woods. 

Love,

Midnight Ranter.

The Pastels of my World

White is for purity, happiness and bliss,

White is that blur that you can’t possibly miss.

Yellow, like us, is a flower swayed by its sun,

Controlled and angry; in need to run.

Orange is the tip of a flame,

The fire of passion– the pain that got the blame.

Red is the colour of my heart,

The colour with whom I wished to part.

Pink is the colour of my teenage years,

A time I’ll never grow out of, I realised with tears.

Purple was that Cheshire Cat,

The one whose smile, like mine, seemed a bit mad.

Blue is the colour of a mid-summer’s Sky,

The lost remnant of hope as I sat to cry.

Green is the taste of the youth that went away,

The times where we didn’t pause to enjoy our play.

Brown is the colour of muddy grounds,

The colour that got splattered with my many pounds.

Grey is a colour said to make you sad,

But it’s my colour and it’s not half bad.

Black is the origin of them all,

A colour that devoured my life whole.

Heya Readers! Hope you’ve liked this little piece there, and if you did or have any criticism to give; then fire away! Please give me your thoughts below  🙂

(PS. The blog has hit its 20th post! Never thought I’d be that talkative!) 

–Midnight Ranter

 

Moments to remember

I used to believe that saying goodbye wasn’t really a bad thing. In fact, it was, in a way, quite a good aspect. Because a goodbye means a new hello–it’s an opening to other chances; new beginnings and fun new facts.

But what happens when we don’t say goodbye?

What happens when we fade away and leave no trace of our remnants and then the people who care about us just keep waiting for us to return? Will they keep on waiting? Will they eventually give up? Do you think that in that way our worth, too, would fade away?

It’s the memories that are supposedly what’s left behind… But you know… That’s what could make you hate the concept of memories so much. They’re supposed to be of a golden touch. So strong yet so fragile. But in the end? They’re nothing. Nothing to people; something to others; and every thing to those kind and caring people who always smile and refuse to upset the people whom they hold dear.

We hold on to memories as if our whole lives depend on them.We build the future on the past; we live the present because of that very same past and we just depend so much on those memories; be it vivid or not; to the point that we get torn apart; because later on, we realise that people had moved on, leaving us behind to bask on the gleaming remains of the shared ‘memories’.

‘The best thing about memories is making them.’

But the worst thing about them is relishing them when they’re the most painful to bear.

So for those who believe that they are invincible; just walk up to them and tell them,”You aren’t.” They’d ask you why; so just look them in the eye and tell them that every person who hold on to a memory is, indeed, very much vincible. They could be our strengths as much as our fatal weaknesses.

What hurts are the matters you don’t foresee.
What aches is the hurt you didn’t want to believe in.
And what breaks is the memories that you always hold dear.

And that’s why; I both love and loathe memories, for they are the most troublesome of matters.

–Midnight Ranter

Within my grasp

The story behind what you may read (please do actually have a look): 

My best friend in the world was somehow taken away from me. She had to leave the country where the two of us resided and go back to her hometown, and she never told me about any of it– not before she was already at the airport, leaving forever. As she left me that last message, though, she wrote me a few verses of what she had felt hiding the possibility of her leaving from me. How she’d felt when we’d all (in the class) talked about doing activities later or at some other time while she knew that she may not become a part of it. What she wrote, as a poem, touched me to tears, and I responded to it with one not half as good but brimmed up with feelings nonetheless. So I thought I’d share it here too, just to let anyone out there know that friendship is a value humans are too lucky to be able to fathom. 

 

“I stay to write a reply,
For she is one I’ll deeply miss,
And I seriously know that I’ll cry.
True we didn’t start out right,
But what’s friendship without ups and downs?
Her place in my heart is deep,
And I want to have it there as a safe-keep,
Not longing for her as a friend is just too bad,
That I’m afraid I’ll find her even in my sleep.

Sleepless nights will be my usual routine,
And I know that a day with light without her is just too shallow,
Simply because I know that my words would be nothing but hollow.
I thought I was really social and outgoing,
But seriously? Is life so fine that it’ll give me a chance to say a ‘hello’?
Afraid it might leave a scar I say,
Kindly, please don’t take her away!
She’s a friend I really trust,
Without her, my smile might just rust.

Able to make me laugh in my gloomiest moments,
Reads my mind without speech,
Always in sync with my every thought.
Yep, that’s her, a friend I cherish deeply and whom I once sought.
Without her, life won’t be as it ought.
But I really like that friend of mine, and wish for time to stop passing by,
Because I want those good times to be right back,
Tightly bound for me to clasp,
Right within my grasp.”

–Midnight Ranter

The season of Revenge

Howdy Readers! This is inspired by what’s going on right now outside my window, a rather VERY sudden change of moods there. 

Washed away and ablaze, the sky whirls around, galloping heaps of dust and sand with every howl of the wind it blows into the air. It tints the atmosphere in shades of orange and red, hues of Autumn dancing amidst a summer’s sky. The sand lifts up and hurls about, rejoicing its freedom and lightness. Nature’s revenge on humanity’s pollution, the humans thought, covering up their mouths, noses and squinting their eyes. It’s the anger boiling and sizzling up there, evident with every passing gale.

“Rejoice my friends!

Go! Fly away!

Let my wind take you along,

Dance to its rhythm and sway.

 

It’s the season of revenge,

It’s time for us to avenge,

Let your freedom flow,

It’s your territory under my dome,

It’s your home under my dorm,

This is what it is;

This is our sandstorm.”

 

Hope you’ve enjoyed the little piece and your reviews and comments would mean the world to me! 

–Midnight Ranter

Say hello to New

My dearest readers,

Another moment of silence for this one trending thing in 2016, the year for all sorts of changes and discoveries.

Wondering what that thing is?

It’s ‘outgrowing’. How many of us just woke up and realised that something felt wrong? (and no, not because we slept in inhuman positions; I’m being metaphorical here). How many times did things just not ring true to our ears and we let it pass because we’re ‘used’ to it being so?

‘Outgrowing’ something or someone doesn’t have to mean letting go of them/it. It simply implies that the mindset becomes different; it’s altered; and you can’t blame neither parties involved for that. I repeat my words, ‘We humans are, by nature, contradicting’, often somewhat volatile, and greatly differing.

Sometimes, I like to think of us as jigsaw pieces in a great puzzle, or LEGO blocks; we only fit right in the place where we believe we belong. However, sometimes, the pieces seem to fit together and yet don’t make any sense. So just because you think that they’re compatible, doesn’t mean they necessarily are, and the vice Versa applies. Similarly, don’t blame yourself or others for outgrowing them, it’s not your fault that you’re different or changing. We have that capacity; the capacity to change. You know, we humans are so different from one another that I think the only thing we have in common is being different.

Makes any sense? No? Welcome to my life ✌🏻️

Midnight Ranter

The Book Thief– Book Review

Hullo Readers! 

I present to you another quick (not so much so) book review because I’ll be having my exams soon, and being a newbie, I just wanted to build a base here. So without further ado, let’s get reviewing.

*fake cough*

I would like to say that the book has been a great one; and I enjoyed it greatly and all of that wonderful stuff that we readers say…

But no. No. No. No.

I am NOT going to just say so and put a full stop. The book deserves more.

Question:

How can a book tear your heart apart (as it always do); squeeze tears out of your eyes; and punch the sobs out of you?

Answer:

By being “the book thief”.

A devastatingly beautiful book with dark humour fed into the most realistic of tragedies. I’m not a German girl in the 1930’s and ’40’s. But I can tell you with great confidence that I was there. I literally lived each part of that wonderful piece. I blocked out my reality for minutes and stayed inside a mute bubble of words. Words and emotions.

I’m not going to summarise the book because entering this world of sensations surrounded by oblivion is the best way to read the book. But I will tell you what it is about.

Our book here is narrated by Death. Yes; Death. Death takes us through Nazi Germany during World War II; but only a very small section of it. One that I guarantee to you would break your heart into 17 pieces— if not more.

It talks about words. Oh, the words. The power they yield; the greatness within them; the sound a word could utter and generally how much it could change the world.

“I have hated words,

And I have loved them,

And I hope I have made them right.”

To put it simply; I know that this review is not my best; and perhaps it isn’t good at all; but I really did try to summon up the right descriptions for this book. And I couldn’t find any. No piece was so well-written and amazingly paced as this one. No piece had literature woven and punctured in the right places such as this one.

Not a single novel has ever made me hold my breath as much as I did with this novel. I was afraid of finishing off a page; wary and conscious of every written word. I feared turning a paper to another chapter; and I just really went through the wildest of journeys in this book.

I cried. I laughed. I cried some more and I have bidden my farewell.

But I tell you this:

In my opinion, no book ever really ends. These words and pages will always breathe within us; and as long as we respire; then they, too, shall never expire.

So I hope that this book grows old and creaky within me.

 

Signed,

Midnight Ranter