Siren

Wrecks behind the curtain
Can play the crowd
Make ‘em hang
On their every word

Out there in the glittering lights
Hide dreams you might never see

Pensive and broken
On the edge.
Always scared
They’ll see the lies inside.

You’re not the one
Just a siren,
Worried your silences
Will cause further investigation.

You make your noises
To drown out the voices
In your mind.

Hoping somewhere you can find
The silences you crave.

Bound by your dreams
How can what you love
Be splitting you at the seams?

Go on and play the crowd
Make ’em hang
On your every word

Don’t give them the chance
To find who you are
In your silences.

-AJ Sandhu 2015

Pretense

No one will find behind these eyes
All of the things I hide
If I pretend long enough
No one will ever find what’s mine.
I’ve worn the mask before
I know what it’s for
I’m not afraid
To sink into the masquerade.
Just shuffle through the faces
Find the one that fits
The one you need right now.
If you feign the strength long enough
Maybe you’ll make your own along the way
Maybe the love I fear
Is the one I should’ve killed long ago?
As long as there is fire burning deep inside
I’ll be able to find my way
As long as the face I wear is the one
The one I see in the mirror
I can never stray too far
From where I need to be.
So I can play in the masquerade
I can stay behind these veiled eyes
As long as no one knows what’s mine.
If I pretend to be what you know
Maybe even the face will change
Be better than who I am now.
There is no surrender
When wearing the mask
Just protecting your heart
Just letting it rest.
No shame in hiding
Behind strength you don’t own
No shame in wearing
The face you’ve made
Come join me

Let’s play in the masquerade.

-AJ Sandhu 2015

Reactionaries

The world collapses slowly, but it crumbles all at once. Like the tsunami that rages in from the sea. It started as a ripple from an earthquake fathoms below. A shift so massive the land must feel the sea’s fury, but not yet; not until it carries with it time and false hope that it will pass without incident.
     It is kind, the waters recede before they attack you.
     Life is not.
     Life is under no construct of physics to be rational. Not bound by alterable rules about the way things should be. 
     I talk about the day given to us by the world. Every morning a new day to do with as we would. But the day is not ours alone. It belongs to everyone. So, the relevant carve out time that is remembered in the over 7 billion days happening all at once.
     You, do what you will in yours?
     And I, in mine?
     Unfortunately, our time occupies the same space. Perhaps what you do in yours forces me to react in mine. Now extend that, billion-fold.
     It’s lovely rhetoric, to say the day is ours to do with as we please. To imply that we are anything other than reactionary, and reactionary alone.
     Everything we do is a reaction. We react to tiredness with sleep and the sun in the morning elicits wakefulness.
     I’ve been holding words best left in the past too closely to my heart; that the world is ours to do with as we please. The world, is ours to react to as we please.
     So caught up in my grief, I failed to see that any idea can and should be challenged. Progress cannot end in death. If we temporary creatures hold the thoughts of other temporary creatures as eternal truths only because questioning them becomes sacrilege on their memories, then we’re giving up on them. To hold only the profundities and claim them truths is to deny the mind that had them the immortality of evolution.
     There is no shame in questioning the wisdom of the dead.
     There is no sacrilege in finding them lacking.
     There is no courage in holding them upon pedestals and inventing fictions in your mind of what would have been. Nor any comfort, other than the temporary.
     We are reactionaries.
     And that is why the world crumbles.
But we don’t have to be.

-Stay good and keep transmitting.

Weight of Guilt

I’m dreaming of a life
A life that might not exist
But maybe if I dream it enough
I can come close…I can come close..

Is ambition alone enough?
How many countless words discarded
Before settling close enough?

Always a whim away
We tell ourselves
Like a memory gate to yesterday
Regaled by the lies around me.

The illusion that time passes around us
That we’ll be fine when the morning comes
A false heartache of the mind
Justified sickness we can ignore.

What is this weight
I can’t seem to shake?
Should it have been me
For the ignorance to take?

I’m drowning in days,
Days that never seem to pass.
Treading on in hope
For the moment I look back.

Maybe I can do this?
Seems like I can live this?
With just a memory on my mind.

-AJ Sandhu 2015

Peddler of Dreams

She’s peddling, peddling dreams
By the seashore
She’s showing you, showing you things
You’d always suspected
But never known for sure
Saying the words you’d only heard in your mind.
She’s a wanderer,
Simple dreamer,
A soul led on a whim
She’ll be gone before the day breaks
Leaving only your dreams in her wake.
But she’s infected you to the core,
From just a look your way,
You don’t remember anything from before.
Because she’s peddling, peddling dreams
By the seashore
She’s showing you, showing you things
You’d always suspected
But never known for sure.
Saying the words you’d only heard in your mind.
She’s a wanderer
Simple dreamer
A soul led on a whim
She’ll never tell you what it takes
To keep her
But she’s a whim away

When you need her.

-AJ Sandhu

Paradise

You asked for another voice in the silence

Cause it was deafening in your mind
But in the sounds you heard
No words could be found.

Far up above me
Slower than my mortal coil;
Though faster than I’d ever understand,
Are galaxies colliding
With lives I’ll never know

It doesn’t mean I don’t want to
Just a consequence of this life
Born to die only when
We start to understand

If I could hold you though the darkness
We’d shine a light so bright
I’d have to deal with 
The shadows that we’d cast.

How can I hold something I’ve never had?
What is this unspoken understanding
Between two worlds hell-bent on colliding?

What the sun wouldn’t give
For a moment in the darkness
Only caving when her life is ending

I’m done with shallow words
Of what we should be
Lead me like inescapable darkness
Leads the light.

I’m here for the morning
Ever burning for moon’s light
Reflecting but never returning

I’m on the verge of surrender
Giving up on paradise
I never knew I had.

Is this the tragedy of our lives?
To fade away only when
We learn how to live?

I’ll hold on
To this precipice of hope
That maybe one day
A paradise will be mine
To hold again.

Disconnect

There is refuge in unwritten words still draped in the golden glow of magical possibility. A story in the mind is perfection, untainted by the imperfect words needed to craft reality.
How many wonderful worlds become contaminated by the disconnect between mind and hand? I can regale you with a dozen or more imaginings perfect and pure, until tested by the litmus of reality.
I’ve written before of ideas that ravage through like aches; stories that so thoroughly disconnected me from reality, I awoke weeping over the banal mundanities of a world without magic.
I create so I can escape from what I cannot control.
Finding release in my mind from what I cannot yet be free of in reality.
So consumed by the worlds over which I reign, I forget to paint them with the brush of truth. Falling to traps of perfect heroes without consequence. Heroes always in the right place at the right time with the right words. Never a moment, or even days, too late. Never human.
Doing so would acknowledge the faults I see in reality.
Sometimes words aren’t enough. No apologies or validation strong enough to ease the hurt. Sometimes you can be and are too late. If I refuse to show such human error in what I write, how can I expect to change reality?
It complicates the narrative, but I’ve been running from complication all of my life. If my escapes don’t teach me to cope, nothing will.
My characters, like myself and the people I’ve chosen to surround myself with, cannot put out all of the fires; cannot contain all of the damage. But we can learn to repair that which is in our power.

So can the people in my mind, if I would just give them the chance. 


Stay good and keep transmitting.

UPDATE

Blogging Sundays will be back this Sunday and I will try to create a backlog of posts so I can have this up and regular again. Thank you all for your support, it means the world to me. 

Vice of a Million Faces

When do people blur into numbers? Where exactly is the tipping point that turns good intentions into could-have-beens?
There is a limit to how many individuals one human can imagine. Call it a flaw in our evolution. Never in our history have we needed to comprehend the value of numbers greater than those in our physical proximity.
It stands to reason, the smaller our personal circles, the less we understand. Simply “growing” these circles cannot prepare us for the sheer number of people there are. Cannot stop us from categorizing and labeling in ways that strip the individual from the digit.
There is no cure for that.
It compounds itself exponentially when those massive numbers, an unfathomable group, declares itself a collective, or is declared such. A collective is easier to imagine than a million faces. Easier to control.
And simultaneously, harder to live up to.
Especially when this group is yours. Parades the name you chose for yourself as it’s moniker of community. How does a person become an idea?
What was done to those millions of faces is done to you by them.
The leader, the only measure for a group, becomes a symbol.
Unfortunately, humans are fallible. Humans can’t be symbols.
If you want to change the world, you have to wander it. In silent acts of kindness and courage. In whispered rumors and gossip.

A thief in the night will do more for change than a good person in the sun’s light.

Stay good and keep transmitting.

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