Shove the bucket

A stainless steel knife slits the seams of my stomach,

As pain peregrinates into my now plummeting body,

Flashes of false fears of friends and foe flicker past my eyes,

Big news never hurt so badly.


Can you congregate close to my corpse,

Blow the beseeching bellows of life back into my body?

Sadly no one can accomplish this feat.


Waiting for a word or whisper of my wish,

Because then, I could exhale.


Life is hard but don't let it hurt you.



 Repeat this news he gave me,
In memory my merry man mailed in,
Preparing to swallow the bucket down his throat.


-RAP


Inspiration: A family member of mine died and I never wrote anything about it because I didn't know how to express it. It bugged me for awhile, but I think I've been able to write something about how I feel/felt.

The Storybook

The pages unite, they are forming their army. 

They give up on their individual existence, too old to carry on. 

So they sit in their glass case, forbidding larceny. 

They sit idle, in their lovely parthenon. 

Reds, blues, oranges bleed through the pages. 

The pages wither, ripping at the seams. 

Seams curved swiftly, from a man with far less wages,

Wages that don't reflect the perfection, down to the pages colored cream.

At Mass they sing, with glee and joy,

Religion pumping through their veins,

They stand majestically, like Helen of Troy,

The seal of Doge, of powerful reign,

A Church in Venice, much like San Domenico

They sing with this book, in perfect harmony,

Resonating from this book, are the notes of a harmonium. 

As if time is short, they sing with urgency,

But too scared to leave their perfect palladium. 

The pages unite, they are forming their army. 

They give up on their individual existence, too old to carry on. 

So they sit in their glass case, forbidding larceny. 

They sit idle, in their lovely parthenon. 

Inspiration: The Gradual of San Domenico di Castello, is a musical book that I saw in an art exhibit on Venice, Italy. It was beautiful, so I decided to write a poem about it! 

Me, Myself, and I

I’ve gotten lost on a cruise ship.

13 floors.

The elevators were broken.

When I’m nervous

My head starts hurting.

And then I can’t shut up.

Jessie J.

Arctic Monkeys.

The Neighborhood.

The Kooks.

Weezer.

They brainwash me as I listen to them on repeat.

7 rings at a time.

One on each finger, but sometimes I skip fingers.

Wings, a bowtie, and a simple silver one.  

Or maybe just a wired one.

I like the sticky feeling of bindis on my forehead.

The pain of wearing tight bangles on my wrists is worth it.

Black and white instead of color.

Spicy instead of sweet.

I like faded photos,

The smell of a new car.

Etta James, Ella Fitzgerald, Jennifer Hudson and Alicia Keys.

My voice tries to imitate theirs.

Netflix is my best friend.

And so is ice cream.

Strawberry, or chocolate.

I dance like everyone is watching,

But the pressure calms me.

A B-17 Flying Fortress model lays on my bedside table,

Reminiscent of my interest in army planes.

I’m the one who makes funny Youtube videos,

And rolls the windows down, while turning the music up,

On the highway.

Addicted to the feeling of snowflakes on my tongue,

A slave to the taste of Nutella.

I fill my head with unachievable goals, like pleasing everyone.

But I guess that’s how life goes.

Inspiration: I feel like though so many people know who I am, no one seems to know the real me. So this is me. Whether you like me or not, here I am. 

Can I go away for a minute?

Maybe hide in a wrinkle of time.

Can I take a step back from the world?

Maybe take a look out the window.

Can I be reborn this morning?

Maybe live a new life regardless of the first.

Can I fly through the ceiling today?

Maybe reenact Peter Pan my way.

Can I dance as swiftly as a hummingbird?

Maybe glide through space like I'm on ice.

Can I be as confident as my friends?

Maybe pull my shoulders up.

Can I be anyone else but me?

Maybe staying as myself is all I need...




Inspiration: We all feel like this sometimes. As in, I wish I could step away from life and take a break. Or I wish I could be as cool as my friends all. It doesn't always happen though. And some people hide these questions away in the back of their minds. I choose to talk about it. Through this poem. 

The road

The road

The road whinds down,
Further and further.
While I'm in the car,
My stomach tossing and turning.

The road is never ending,
While the music blasts in my head.
"Locked out of heaven".

The road whinds down,
Further and further.
While I try to fall asleep on the backseat of our car,
It's uncomfortable.

The road is never ending,
While I see the other cars whizzing by us,
Like we are in a NASCAR race.

The road whinds down,
Further and further.
While the rain drizzles on the windows,
Reminds me of the subtle tears forming in my eyes.

The road is never ending,
But now I'm here.


Inspiration: I'm on a road trip right now, and this poem describes exactly how I feel right now :)
-RAP

Comments!

Please feel free to write comments and give positive feedback!! 

I would really appreciate it so I can improve and write about more topics.

 THANKS!!!! :)

Killing us Softly

They say to look desirable but innocent.

Sexy but naïve.

My skin has to look flawless, 24/7.

No exceptions.

I want to be me, but that isn't who I am supposed to sell.

Who is the real me?

It is as if, after being in this imaginary bubble of perfection,

Artificial personalities

And plastered smiles,

You start to

Lose Yourself.

My body slips away.

Size zero and 100 pounds.

Isn't that enough?

What more do they want?

Size -1?

The Media.

Such a small word for such a big network.

They portray me and sell me.

An object, that is who I am to them.

I feel fake.

I shouldn't have to tolerate their manipulations of my body.

If I am at such a horrible place,

Imagine the future generations.

It is already starting.

Toddlers styling logos like “Pimp Squad”

And girls conveyed as sex objects.

The media defines who I am.

They are my boss.

I want to quit this job.

I want to walk out the door and slam it in their faces.

I wish they knew how they're killing me.

Killing me softly.

“I want to be like Cindy Crawford”.

Said Cindy Crawford.

A person shouldn't have to wish they are themselves.

It is utterly demoralizing.

1 photo shoot.

100 shots.

10 airbrushes.

20 polishes.

30 touch-ups.

Millions of magazines.

The damage it causes the viewers.

Countless. 

Inspiration: I wrote about the objectification of women in the media today, and how it affects our everyday lives. It was inspired by a video called, "Killing us Softly". -RAP

Bittersweet Legs

Bittersweet Legs

You are a part of me,

For eternity,

So hopeless I fear,

Is my future

I hate you,

It's nothing but the truth,

Because you've given me more pain,

Then anything

To have these crooked and bent forks,

As support for my body,

Makes me lucky,

But I wish they were reliant

Why couldn't you be like my eyes?

Movable, predictable, and full of color,

No. You had to be monochromatic,

Unfaithful, stationary, annoying

Life was going great,

Why did you have to ruin it?

Every doctor said something different,

So there goes my life, watch it break!

Do what you can, with what you have,

But I can't sense my own problem!

One day I was twirling,

The next, collapsing

They were tall, lean glasses of water,

Flowing smoothly against the tide,

Now they are rapids,

Picking up speed and crashing against the rocks,

Jelly, you are,

Motionless, and lactic,

Pain surging through like a lightning bolt,

I know I won't be walking for long,

So rugged, like a mountain stained,

With the history of a dreadful explosion,

The swelling, the redness,

I have my proof

My walk slowly churned

Into a limp, as I discerned,

Stairs and uphills, my greatest enemy,

Or walking around the corners, my death at every turn

It's bittersweet,

Because no matter how much I hate,

I can only love them more,

Fickle as they are, they are my fate and future

Inspiration: 

I really like writing about my favorite part of my body, my legs!

A Raga in the Talam of Jazz

By

RAP

Measure vs. Cycle

Measures are infinite,

Everlasting bar lines that count time

Accommodating every note,

Six/eight or four/four, doesn't matter, measures count time.

Use measures to sight-read and find your place,

Rarely will you get lost, if you count the measures,

Everything will settle, and the music will flow.

Counting Carnatic style, is different,

You count depending on the talam,

Countless talas, you count with your hands,

Let every beat resonate with the beat of your heart,

Eight-beat Adi, or Seven-beat Misra, counting is a breeze, if you maintain talam

Raga vs. Keys

Revathi, Kalyani and Bilahari are all ragas,

Approximate numbers can't describe the infinity of ragas,

Given a raga, you are gifted with the tune of the song, and what notes are present,

Ambrosia to the ears, ragas are the tune of life.

Keys are the key to any western music,

E minor, or F major, keys are the melody,

You know the tune of the song, if you know the key,

Sweet-sounding euphoria, the keys are the melody of the lives we live

Inspiration:

I am a student learning Indian Carnatic music, and western jazz drumming. Although I have

been learning Indian Classical music for much longer, it is easy to notice some key differences between these two styles of music. They have different counting systems, and different pitches. Overall, they are two types of music that convey similar emotions, and make us feel a certain way. I decided to write a poem about their differences and similarities.

P.S. Arrange the first letter of each phrase in a line for a surprise :)

Pins and Needles through my leg

Stop the pain, I plead and I beg

I was so young, and so healthy,

And how it crept, oh so stealthy,

Into my life, into my mind,

It changed my abilities and now I find,

I find myself, not able to walk,

Those steps of concrete blocks

That I have walked up before so easily,

And now I rest, so weak and weary,


My leg is stabbed, by a needle,

Don't need rehab, who are these people?

To tell me that I have lost,

The thing that keeps my bones crossed,

That thing that wouldn't have let them clash,

Has now wilted away into the ash,

Is what they tell me now and forever,

That I will never be normal, not now, not ever,


I am not able to walk the distance,

That I have walked before,

They say I have too much persistence,

I cannot walk no more,

They have lost hope,

In me and my legs.


Inspiration: My grandmother has had arthritis for a while, and so I dedicated this to her...
-RAP

The blues and purples of dilemma swirl through my mind,

The reds and oranges of melancholy waft through my thoughts

The numbers, of days gone to waste, days gone by, linger in my memory,

The anger, oh the anger, of being in a valley,

Yes, I am in a valley, a valley where there isn't a square inch to grow,

To bloom, to mature, and I am in the valley of no mistakes,

Correct! The flawless valley; it is a shadow so perfect, that I know I cannot fill,

I can't stand in this outline, because I know I can't replace what I have never had,

What do I not possess, you ask? Good grades? Friends?

I say that what I do not possess, is potential.

Potential to do what I please, potential to fill the shoes that are a size too big

It is as if everything is whizzing by me, and I am struggling to keep up,

I fear that I am on a lower pedestal than everyone else,

I am an invisible figure, though no one can see through to me,

No one understands, none give me something to hope for, something to remember

I feel that I am drifting away, inch-by-inch,

The memories of me, that were once vivid and visible,

Are now blurred and edgy, and are straying away from this world,

And even I can't keep up with their speed


Inspiration: I wrote this for a novel in which a character is an amaturely estranged poet. He writes this poem in the novel....
-RAP

Think Out Loud

How every thought seeps through one's mind, 

Its soft honey-like layers just waiting to be explored, 

Every one is so different and yet alike, 

One won't think about it, till it has vanished. 


When we think out loud, 

All we want is someone else, 

Someone else to talk to, 

So, we think out loud, 

Expecting someone to listen. 


The brain doesn't always grasp what we say, 

The honey oozes through the fingertips, 

How very unfortunate. 


When you feel that none understand you, 

Take some time to think out loud, 

And when you least expect it, 

Someone will listen. 







Inspiration: I was thinking out loud
-RAP

Musical Writing Piece #1

Verse 1:
Everyday, I walk away, from the truth, though I know I should stay
And today, is no exception, but the way, to perfection ain't easy
So should I keep trying? Should I keep climbing?
Is it just to fall again? Why should I be complaining? 
I can't seem to understand, all the things that I planned,
They don't matter to me, anymore, So I guess I just got to let'em go,


Chorus: 
All of my fears, and all of my doubts,
Will disappear, when I, step out,
Out of the shell that holds me,
Out of all the insecuirites,
Oh, it holds me so tight,
So I just wanna break free,
And soar the sky


This is still in progress...
By RAP

A new series!!

Hey everyone!


So, I have decided that I am going to have a set of songs that I have written in a new segment on my blog called: Musical Writing Pieces. They will be in the format of poems so PLEASE FEEL FREE TO COMMENT!!!!!!!!


Thank You!
-RAP

Just something Inspiring...

Dance like no one is watching,
Sing like the world depends on it,
Act like you don't care what anyone else thinks, 
Because you shouldn't, and you don't 
Play like a three-year old,
Talk like a twenty-year old,
To show how mature you can be,
Count like an accountant,
Swim like an Olympian,
Study like a student,
But be yourself 


By RAP
Inspiration: I just felt like writing something inspirational!!

Just something Inspiring...

Fulfill your destiny, whether it is something complicated like programming a computer in C language, or something as simple as picking up trash. Fulfill if! Do it with pride! Even though you may think it is useless, do it anyway. Go into the world with an open mind, and EXPLORE!! Have fun, get muddy, shoot a basketball, whatever! Just do it with dignity. Even if lighting deepalu for Diwali or lighting candles for Hanukkah isn't your favorite, still do it! Lead a part of your heritage into the light! Show who you are! Feel the rain on your skin, because no one else can feel it for you! Be you, and take pride in being yourself, because there is no other you on this planet...


By RAP
Inspiration: I wanted to write something inspirational for people because this does reflect of my life-principles!! So here is a little piece of me!!

Another Fun Acrostic...Variation of "Good vs. Evil"

Good is the Laughter that floats above
On the Rooftops to spread the love
On the Beak of a Snow-white dove
Down the Path and Through the Shrub


View it one way, perspective will change
Same and different, one other range

Evil is the black moon that nestles below the sky
Villains lurk about and make others cry
In every instance a villain will lie
Looking outside, for the world to die


By RAP


Inspiration:
I have gotten into the mood of Acrostic(if you don't know what it means...LOOK IT UP!), as seen in another recent poem so I posted one that I wrote last year!!

My blog's national icon

Please Feel Free to Comment on all of my poems!! The way you do this is you click on the individual poems and then the comment button is on the bottom!! And THANK YOU to all of my followers; most of you have watched me grow throughoutt these two years of having this blog! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!

The Vallerina

Her voice is that of a piano, so sweet and soft each note playing a different melody,


Her bubbly personality fills us all up warmth,


Her spirit is through the roof,


With her pretty pink dress and her sparkly silver shoes with bows,


She shines and radiates like the Sun,


She says she has red shoes like silver, like Dorothy's and how nice to see she has been to Oz and seen the Wizard


A Ballerina she wants to become,


She has the Talent,


the Heart


the Support


the Love




The way she moves is that of a painter painting a work of art,


She, my friends, is a work of art...




By RAP


Inspiration
I met someone who now is very close to me because of her bigger-than-earth heart and soul. She stood out immediately, not afraid to dance in Sweet Tomatoes. And let me tell you, for a girl that young, she is good. My heart goes out to my little Ballerina or should I say Vallerina... she knows who she is. I will assure you I am not finished but I wanted her to see this.
PLEASE FEEL FREE TO COMMENT!!