Skip to main content

when a writer dies

A lot has been said 
a lot had to be said
that's what we do, we the word warriors
that's what we do, we the hurt worriers
that's at times all we have
that's at times all we can slap
others with, our mode of expression
that's the skill we have chosen to hone
after years and years of jolting down useless lines
after days and months of thinking through times
through times of worries and through times of stress
word has been our last line of defense
the things written but unspoken
the lines written from the heart that is broken
yes, that is the only thing we have at most times
the only place where we can safely whine
but there comes a time when all of it stops,
There comes a time when the pen drops
and that is what we consider our death
when all that needs to be said has been said
or when the last hope of hope has been laid to rest
that's when we have lost interest
not in our craft but in our lives
that is when a writer truly dies
and writers block is not the death
well at least not the death yet
but when constant writers block is all that lies
that's when a writer truly dies
that's when a writer truly dies

-Yakaa: Jujaan 



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

memor....hallucination

that cute little butt of hers those beautifull brunette curls that flows across her face yeah the same one with button nose and her smile the one that goes all the way to her heart it was nothing but a lie oh why did i had to lie??? why did i had to break that promise i made her yeah i cried but tears stopped right before they reached my eyes i had a reason for ending it and she knew it every bit so well: even more than me that she could tell what i had to say hello miss cuddles! well you ain't there thats just my hallucination please don't stare at me i can't bare to see you go, where are you now??? nowhere but in my brain -yakaa: jujaa #felicity (i wrote this one some two years back. back then i was called eklo yatri. meanings the same it's just a matter of language. dedicated to felicity. she meant the world to me. n even though we have drifted apart i still hallucinate her voice)

Yan Yan Yan dere

*gore warning*  Can I cut your throat? slit your wrists? throw you in a boat? Pretty please? Okie fine But can I break your spine? slice your meat make it minced? then throw some piece eat that shit drink some wine make you mine? No, I can't? but I want to add you to my human farm No, I can't? Then I will break your hand tie it up in a burning lamp dowse you till you are wet and damp not with water but with brine light a match and throw it up till your scream, till it stops but on no! I won't stop there Put out the fire, See I do care about your body, but not your nails pull them out, use some flails add some sugar add some salt and rub your body with some lard you feel better, yes I see but fuck you are now hung in a tree well there is still your spine at least still, your body is swaying in the breeze clean your spine with some lime roll it up and paint this time Now I'm done, the last step left You hear me talking, no you're deaf And at the end, I will drown you ...