Replace

Replace it; I wish the pain,

which lightens over time, 

‘cause one that heart contained,

diminished a self of mine.

I have known from myself,

in these long, dark years, 

the eyes can never be tired,

sorrowing from some fears.

The Door

The more I close a door,
Ahead lies another still,
And seeming I cannot ignore
What it conveys, instills

When I open another one,
It again leads to you I see,
I’m lost, perturbed and outrun
and all the reasons oversee

A lonely ghost, the ghost is I
and as others just pass me by
I am desert, sand and all above
I now just crave your love

If I am to end, I’ll embrace
an end well-founded and true,
Nothing which your love can replace
Nothing more willed to pursue

The sea

Which sea shall turn within,
while all turned shallow;
while tears are marking the end of I,
and all of that truth made hollow

The veneer of immortality,
had kissed our life so fragile;
A kiss goodbye each hour of day,
never dreamed would be so agile

The witness are they all,
the rise and the fall;
Have me cornered every side,
with their hurting pride

Then the soul, weeping all alone,
Proclaimed loud it’s not a stone
The sea will always churn within,
Oblivious of the storms it brings

A trace of mine

I don’t know what clouds stand gathering,
Which stare down upon me now
I could not earlier bear, stand suffering
but now, I’m forced to welcome it somehow

My imagination painted the beginning,
of what seemed like an eternal heaven
Ignorant that I was already given up,
before the months finished numbered seven

And amidst most of these memories,
of which I don't know use;
perplexed whether I can rely on them,
to chase some shady hues

But I know the flavor of fading now,
Diminishing just doesn’t come to me
What trace of mine will fate allow;
A part which grows, such even I cannot see

The Tree

What is it about this tree,
Which keeps me enchanted this night
Something within it is not so free,
That I think of its unknown plight

So many passerby’s beneath its leaves,
have shelter when needed taken;
and the tree stands, and believes,
That they have love for it awaken

Also when they spoke to it,
As if it was their most loved claim;
And while leaving it alone again, admit,
and etch forever their lover’s name

Yes, stand beneath, don’t take me home
The tree didn’t say, but felt it forever
I long you to stay, forbidden wish overgrown
And I know you’ll be with me never

Time has gone, and the tree stood still
To blossom or not, not per its will
I now know what enchanted, now I see
The tree stood there, reminding I of me

The heart must now begin to stand

Beginning whole, to every last strand,
the heart must now begin to stand
An endeavor to resurrect into any form;
perplexed to fathom, was this its last storm

Will the soul lose in this conquest,
Or will it turn or burn or decay
The heart disbelieves this very concept;
a lot leaps to surround from yesterday

Looking at the depths down below,
the color the shade of cold snow
The heart wouldn’t know, it was young;
afraid to linger in hope, afraid to be stung

And now when it foresees truth in a way;
It must learn, despite its dismay
Of why leaning on it can be so hard,
denying obviousness can leave it scarred

To survive alone or to crumble like sand,
The heart must now begin to stand

Its greatest divide

That was achieved in that clueless state,
was premeditated and yet was sought to fight
I would laugh sometimes, upon impaired fate
Cutting its own wings, as it took its flight

The heart never sought this throbbing preference,
What I would withhold, and what I could confide
Despite hours of omitted reason and enduring severance,
This spirit will still be seeking its greatest divide

Time and I

For every moment I dare to seize,
Another arises to break its spell
The time which brings me to my knees
Time was brutal, it knew it well

Who am I to comprehend at once;
What stole us away in tons
And even though I tried its test
Time always claimed whats best

I try to prevent, as I fall;
But time also just knew it all
The universe makes us meet each day,
From memories such I cannot say

Time still didn’t stop at that;
it arose, a demon in my habitat
Told me reasons, sane, it seems;
as it crushed my every dream

But I still stand, with equal hope,
Filled with more than I can cope
I reject all that time suggests
And enter the lair of these quests

My true rising

For nights, I pondered what kept me awake
Before I knew this just wasn’t for any sake
It dawned upon a realization hard to master
In this world so artificial and full of plaster
In your eyes, I saw what was so recalling;
Tried in vain and in your love I keep falling
As we started walking, gathering sand and roses,
You gave me more than what fate supposes
And then I knew what I had always missed;
was the sweetness of your very charming kiss
And when I looked back, of how must I was lost,
Despite I would perish, I would pay to fate any cost
The strength I found, not from temples or churches
I realize that as this craving slowly emerges
I will love you to the end of my diminishing trace,
and wait for your touch, that warm embrace
As others seek fame, possessions, those things and all
I realize my true rising always lay in this fall

An unknown source

As intoxicated I lay, losing some strength;
Longing just a word, my wish knew its length
Beginning to walk upon an undrawn path,
Knowing nothing of consequences and its aftermath

I felt so dependent on some will,
Which turned to me and asked me still,
I seek no refuge within these fears,
Which defined me as well, through these years

Beneath this smiling, laughing face, I wear,
An unknown evil for me to bear;
Looked no further, just another burning flame
but to us now it looked all the same

The sparks always attempted to fall beyond
That place which was with cold, wetness bound
Some thoughts did tangled me within,
And always tore away the healthy sin

A sword beside; and from fate, a relentless frown,
Though always attempts to turn me down;
And in dwells this mind full of mysteries I know,
Which killed a waking presence long ago

Though as I stand at this arch of stone;
freezing, shivering, aching to every bone
Heights it reached of some burning desire,
the last attempts to fight the volcano with fire

It is not lost, not found, neither in any power;
The longest wait is the last minute of the hour
Beaten down to its mistakenly subtle force,
All within, just within, was its unknown source

Bit by bit

As lost, unstructured, battered and hopeless I feel about some of the things not falling at place – I also feel something else. I cannot define what this is, but it is just there – neither a force I could define, neither something which forms my stronger side. All I know is that is not a bad or a good side, or a wrong or a right; this is just something which keeps dying and resurrecting. In one small human life of billions and trillions of others who have passed their living and dying on this very earth, there is something which beats other than a heart. What beats within, I do not know. What I do know is that this refuses to die. This refuses to compromise, to accept defeat, to give up or strive for lesser. I have not even a hint of predictability skills to gauge what will happen next, and neither do I know whether these millions attempts will take me to success. I do not know if these trials do carry the weight to my freedom, or to whatever I know of satisfying this restless soul.

Courageous resolves are not an overnight phenomenon. The goals might not be as dreamy as they seemed, when you achieve them. The world worthy to live those dreams might perish bit by bit. The hopes might be extinguished each time they’re kindled. Failure may laugh at your face, and the world may seem like taking itself and you a peg lower each day. Yet, I will wait for those nights where my mind is not dominated by thought, but only one thing – courage. As mysterious the dawn is, hence I do not know whether it will come – but I stand here – waiting until I perish. I will get up tomorrow, and move. Even if it’s an inch and even if the circumstances throw me a hundred steps behind – I will move – bit by bit.

The frustrated in-between; the unknown beginning

Security - I don't know if its a good thing.

As I write this, I am almost mentally kicking myself of how much time I have wasted thinking if security is an essential in life. I am working my way through a 'normal' life - job and all, weekends spent lazying, city, traffic, earnings, savings, investments, et al. Meeting some people, some emotionally connected phone calls, some pure 'blah.'

But today, just today, looking at a piece of paper made me think - how secure am I really? In a world where anyone and anything can shuffle my cards - what can I measure my security by? By how much money I have or save? By my purchasing power? By how my family and friends are; and how they will be with me? By giving a thought if I am or not (or should be) in a stable relationship? By how much knowledge I have, and how much is going to 'cash me in?' By what measures people think I am secure / settled? By what measures I can keep the others happy, or do "good" to the world?

The voice within me lurked at me at me at first, and then burst out laughing. "Nothing is secure!" it said. "Nothing is secure, unless you are 'living.' 

It is true, I guess. It can be all, some of the above - or none of the above. It is just what makes you truly happy (and not what you are programmed to think that should make you truly happy)

I know it has been long that I wish to break the handcuffs from this life in which I am thrown into (though I am grateful for quite some aspects of it, seriously!) a great unknown pit - which others seem to know so very fucking well.

I realized today that I took many many things for granted. One of them - and one of the most important one - is my urge to write. I took it for granted that how for 25 years, I dreaded reading alone - and here I am, wanting to just write.I took it for granted that without being a reader, I have the urge to write fiction, and the itch to etch stories - to tell the tales which I wish to be my first reader of. I took it for granted that I have it in me to take a stride and have the will to be on my own. I took it for granted that people who put me down at all points in life were failures in some way in their own life and emotional quotients - a sad kind of lame thinking - and that I knew much more than them, all the time. I took it for granted that I have the inseparable spirit to wake up to my mistakes and admit them - the spirit to change and adapt, and not sink in the quicksand of some warped kind of constancy which is mistaken for virtue.

So - what would it require? I don't exactly know. But I surely know of what it won't require. My journey hence is just going to be trying to avoid the unnecessary to the truest extent possible - at least for beginning it.

So, there have to be decisions now. Tough decisions. Decisions which make me dubious of my own existence. Decisions which seem too large - too much to handle (but I am 'normal' 'selfish' 'chauvinist' and a 'complete failure at making anyone happy' - the nasty critic who dwells within me says). And those decisions are not on display, but rather to be taken more than a mere resolve.  And honestly, I don't care who is with me and who isn't. In fact, I wish to take this journey on my own. I wish to stand on my own feet - or die.

People are going to have issues with this change. But I can't help it. I have a life to live; I have a life to fight for, and not give in; to achieve what I aspire - or die in the process - and make it secure.   

The haze

Yes, it is possible that you change to someone else and see yourself as another.

Numb – A word of which I am somehow getting to feel the meaning of. Storms are not necessarily born out of situations, but may sometimes be born of a pattern as well. It is pretty wonky for me as well (as I trust must be for you) to associate the words numb and storm together. The first few hits, you just don’t get it. There comes a time when it seems time is just pulling you away and slowing you down.

I wonder most times why is it so tough for humans to accept the fact that they change; and change much more than they anticipated. This is because somehow change is somehow also notionally attached to the concept of character.

Yes, this is a change in persona, and it has been a rollercoaster ride. I don’t pretty much say this being full of pride or anything. I thought it was over after a round, but it seems the ride owner feels like sending me for an extra trip. I hope it stops sometime.

I inspired to be a fiction writer and it is precisely before 4 years I dared this thought into my system. I write quite a bit, but most of it is just thoughts. It has been around 2 years since I have written any fiction at all. I had some spurts of enthusiasm which made me jot down a few lines, and then – boom! An empty cloud just came and attacked that part of which was a storyteller. Somehow, subconsciously, I let the other life affect me (whatever the other life had to offer). It’s like having hazy mirrors all around you, and making you seem unfamiliar.    

I wasn’t the IQ sort of person (and am not pretty much now as well) and I didn’t have many ‘dreams’ or ‘ambitions.’ I honestly don’t understand this concept too much. But amongst all the highs and lows, one thing which caught my interest was writing. As to how words form on the blank page. I found it the most beautiful medium capable of the best telepathic ability which is not restricted to anything at all (not even the king of destinies – time).

At this juncture, I really need to figure out how this will turn out. Somehow the creative centre of mine is not only sleeping, but I think it has gone away. All I can do now is wait.

This post is not to make a point. A man like me is not pretty good with such things. I thought I might figure out something’s as I came to the blank page, but for now, I can just wait until the haze clears.

The voice

There was a time when tides were high

And drowned I was in its deluge

The present didn’t have much to magnify

The future was always there with its refuge

Whether I tried or didn’t try hard enough

There was a voice, and that was me

It came to rescue and it came tough

Some wisdom that would set me free

It kept me noble, it kept me strong,

When times seemed they would on me prey

Something to hold on forever so long

And I felt it wouldn’t ever betray

In times, genuine and classically veneered

Some questions which never ever appeared

When would times hit me so strange?

That I would be plagued by constant change

The voice no longer talks to me
I’ve been searching for it in vain
Perplexed it is to some degree
Is this nothingness, or is this pain

Visions - they dart in my path to and fro

Each ready with a fanatical sign

I said to them, not quite long ago

That nothing is anyone’s, and nothing is mine.

All that I find in wilderness and wood

To walk the miles, whether I should

To what is will and what is desire

Can’t take much than my heart can acquire

The visions in the mirror are now unclear

As I’m trailing behind of who I am
It seems too much distance to cover
The dismay of belonging to a mindless clan

So where is that voice, disappeared somehow

I still search for it in vain
I search for it here and forever now

And await something pleasantly insane

I run

I run, away from those views,
Which make the sunsets seem like joy.
Much to repel under its blues;
Seeking to find, then to destroy.
I might chase the dreams
and the future so very unknown;
Despite the natures hideous schemes.
The likelihood of some darkness shown
Because every light has its dark side;
And every dark side most times is nothing
Too much to take within long strides,
Decisions in the present, overwhelming
Much seems like there is to abide
Much seems like I shouldn’t
And why I shall everything provide
At a time I just could, or I just couldn’t
And now when the heart and mind divide,
Conviction, wanted but shall be devoid  
A feeling so mortal, which makes me now
Persistently, yet so rare, it does seldom allow
Now ready to face my adored adversary,
I wish to now fill myself with silence
The stillness right now, constant ancillary;
 To a being craving for some inane guidance.
I run, away with those fickle views,
Which make the sunsets seem like joy.

A story lost, a story found

The stealing had been done
But I walked endless miles
Every restless duty shunned
And donned spurious smiles

I call out your name always, forever
Drifting thoughts of you
Even silence hears them mild
In the city, and the wild

Can nothingness be felt?
Was a query before me
Could all intentions be spelt?
Feelings in a never ending spree

Then it so arrived, an awakening
which slumbered all these years
why do we let these times distance?
why do we give in to our fears?

A dew shining amidst the grass
Taught me what I seldom learnt before
Each come upon their own fate
Some have less time, some have more

I breathe my own mythologies
and some are the ones borrowed
Sometimes, we wore it in a guise
And yet, saw it in our eyes

Our poetry, dancing on the shore
As we knock yet another door
A story was lost, a story was found
The clock mesmerizingly wound

I sang to this starved, hungry ocean
a sea of your dearth, distant corrosion
To see ourselves sovereign of us
And deny the learning superfluous

Not limited by these poor rhymes
Sifting the perplexity of all the times
Our cravings must not now burn and beat
but live to see it form new feet

Why curtains be drawn upon such nights,
strangled in a silence of wrong and right
Let the tamed wilderness cry out loud
The fertile secret between us proud

And how the vague love gave in such
Shall be written, on immortal pages
The divine beauty of such touch
Freedom from designed solitary cages

And our being itself being nothing
It matters just who it be
Of generous things, we give ourselves
In this speck of life, we envisage a sea 

The most fragile things I know

The silence is so confused, but delighted,
because my hope awakens with your smiles
does your soul along with me, ignited,
wait to walk towards the timeless miles

I do not have the precision; you seek from me
for entering your belief, and your pathway
But it seems like two souls were waiting to see
How much can distance by the years weigh

I know souls speak a delicate language,
Which few mortals hear, see, dance in bliss
If not our dream at indecisions peril salvage,
Heavens would cry out our names, and weep

I wish I had the magic, to steal you from you
And make our fate, in its own heaven shine
Amidst this world of stone, something true
A place where nothing but hearts are inclined

Feel it; on a day unknown, I just placed my heart;
placed my heart in your hand, all yours to keep,
with dreams within it, truly mine to impart;
A mountain, undying, and so very steep.

A sin it seems, as I silence my expression;
None of these flowers I would choose to mow.
And now, since it lays at your discretion;
Our hearts in your hand, the most fragile things I know.

So remember, whenever you look ahead,
Don’t let anything unspoken be misread;
And walk well, come to me, don’t retreat;
‘cause I’ve laid down my heart at your feet.

Why the distance so near?

The dearth of a bonding,
alive, yet why so seasoned
when destiny runs absconding
’cause the roots infected by reason
Does something which flows in abundance
Always has to be somehow shunned?
I know it is meant in silence
Where the unfulfilled promise runs
Gratitude for the un-spelt spells
I eternally dream to bathe in its glory
But the same, when ignorance dwells
The time always tells that craving story
Why is it designed such that every step,
Now I ever take towards only you
is counted as an insignificant speck
And all the flowers then growing, overdue;
My calm doesn’t belong here
In this hellish place of reasoned noise
Why is it that distance is so near?
where cowardice made its venomous poise
And the hope then teases, hide and seek
Unknown trepidation so loudly within you speaks
Time sometimes gets its victims, like me and you
But the tides always hit the shore
Nevertheless it is meant to crave and drown
In just the hostile sense of our amour
This age can wake up, alive, screaming
But it is denied, none more goes to flower
Though unresolved intentions, the tides know well
That not all times, they bless and shower
Breaking the neck of this heavenly impulse
Explicit that the mayhem is all in mind
The heart though breaks, and shatters
Every piece of mine refused to play blind
What beats within is not the heart itself
Where these reasons the soul gives still
Does it have to go through this loud silence?
Does it require me to consent to such sin?
I don’t know what is it that grows,
under the rule and times of superfluous quandaries
And should I allow myself to be broken,
distancing myself, confined by your boundaries

Dialogues from the movie Sucker Punch

Whatever people have thought this movie is, or is not – I loved it. I gauge movies on many parameters. The reason why I loved this movie is the dialogues and quotes denoting life, strength, hope, perseverance and courage said all though the movie. Even if you don’t watch the movie, have a read.

These sentences, if focused, can change the way you think. Remember, there might be one word, one sentence, or a paragraph or a book which, if focused on, can change your life. Words are truly important.

 “I want you to just relax, feel the music, open your heart to it, let it in; and when you’re ready – I want you to dance.”

“If you do not dance, you have no purpose. And we don’t keep things here that have no purpose. You see – your fight for survival, starts right now. You don’t want to be judged, you won’t be. You don’t think you’re strong enough – you are! You’re afraid. Don’t be. You have all the weapons you need. Now fight!”

“The core strength and tools we need to fight for the life we want is to be found within.”

“‘If you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything.”

“For those who fight for it, life has a flavor the sheltered will never know.”

“You can deny angels exist, convince ourselves they can’t be real. But they show up anyway, at strange places and at strange times. They can speak through any character we can imagine. They’ll shout through demons if they have to. Daring us, challenging us to fight.”

“You’re afraid. Don’t be. To reach your own paradise, just let go. What you’re imagining right now… you control this world.”

“Begin your journey. It will set you free.”

Listen. Believe. Feel.

Only feelings may be hazy, or mistaken to be transient. Only signs may be discounted as being coincidences. But when signs and feelings come like a consistent combined loving thunderbolt – it is something of heavenly impact. What should you do? Get impacted. ~ Marcus Hades

It is wise to listen to two entities.  Your Mother when an adolescent; and Mother Nature when you're an adult. ~ Marcus Hades

Pursuant somewhat to what I wrote on Coincidence, I didn’t want things to be too dense. I don’t know if I am the authority to speak on many things, but I choose to. I don’t think I have all the time to live by others logics a lot, when there is such a vast store of learning and thinking happening constantly within me. Since adolescence my family knows me to think differently. Perhaps most might think I’m crazy – and if you do, don’t worry, you won’t be the first. But I think that when a man thinks of penning down his version of the truth – his days of existence as a consenting member of Society are numbered anyway.

Do you remember the first time you went to school? Do you remember when they taught you A,B,C? Did you know what they meant before you read them and were explained what they connoted? How they could form into words and create sentences, poetry and stories? 

Exactly!

Such is the nature of our habitat. We cannot understand first time what we don’t know the meaning of. I might give countless examples for this, but I think you get my point. In the same way, we must have heard about signs, serendipity and words like that – but never experienced it before. It might also happen that we might be so caught up in a world in which we are constantly ‘willing’ in our routine, that these signs might just pass us by. I am just lucky I at least read the signs. In my life, in a particular significant path, they have occurred for the first time.

I know of one thing is that I respect whatever is worthy of respect, and Mother Nature is a large entity. I’m just one of those who are following what she is providing to me. Perhaps we cannot get over complaining and brooding over what is or went wrong and hence we don’t open ourselves to what is meant for us to actually live a successful life. 

Everyone has a threshold of courage, foresight and vision and there are countless examples of people who have been the designers of their own destinies; the captain and crew of their own ships. They know that action is the sole way of succeeding, and through those actions comes true living. But for such action, there has to be a birth of a resolve, a focus and a commitment. And that ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, that is born out of signs. I don't know if you know what I mean, but right now, I am finding barely the words to describe it - since, like I said, it is A, B, C for me. 

All I can understand is that it is something that touches not only your heart and mind, but also your soul. A commitment you have to make to yourself is that you will do whatever it takes. A courage which has to be the strongest force you know in yourself, which can be born out of a resolve or love. And having said that, courage, mostly has to be built (and is rarely born on its own) for something that matters to your soul.

People must have spent their lives trying to understand what the true purpose of life is. Some writers have even written beautifully to cover this aspect. Though their views are nothing I am against as everyone has a right to a view, I wish to summarize my little bit of what the purpose of life is in just a few words, as I understand my time is critical actually understanding and following it, and yours is precious for action, rather than only reading about it. Here it is – 

I think the purpose of life is finding the balance and finding out what are the things you (a) have to do and (b) what you feel like doing, to lead the life you wish. For the former, we have to do many things which are required to be done. They may be things done out of a lot of effort, requiring detachment from emotions. I am not interested much in talking about that, since that is what everyone must do respectively as to how they are placed or come to be placed in life.

What I am interested in is how Mother Nature gives us the signs amidst our common lives, and how somethings just happen which stir our soul and makes us realize that we are here for only one thing - true happiness. The word 'Serendipity' was a word which I had an idea of – but now I believe I know what it is. I think I can feel it. If you listen closely to Mother Nature, or have done that already, you will know what I am talking about. And then, when that happens to you, don't turn away and get stuck in logics. Face it. It is meant for you. It is a gift, as I said. And Mother Nature doesn't bless all with them. 

Logical issues in life can be concluded by the mind as well, but the mind alone is rarely capable of making decisions which can make your soul feel worthy of a life. And a worthy life is not only lived for the self, but for those who you love, and for those who matter to you.

Why do I think this way? I wouldn't want to end up thinking towards the end of my life that I didn't listen to Her when she wished to guide me – and how my life could have changed. A life which would most importantly affect the soul in innumerable blessed ways - because according to me, that is all that counts. The successful people are those who realize and achieve their purpose. Those who listen to what She says JUST ONCE (I believe she has many doors to knock, and I'm unsure whether she has the time to knock your door again), and then listen to their heart and soul conjointly. What exists in the mind is just details. I used to think this, and promised myself I would listen to her if and when it happens. And now, she is talking to me, knocking at my door. At least I will do my calling from Her until death. 

Think for a while. Have you? Will you?

What are coincidences?

Listen to it. Can you? May be for the first time in your life. But there is a lot of divine silence if you really listen. ~ Marcus Hades

What is it really? Words are just a medium, but can everything really be expressed? What people call coincidence, or write it off as ‘just happens to be’ may not be what we think about.

I am just an average ordinary bloke, but recently I have seen something’s happen – things which never happened before, and it somehow just doesn’t feel like coincidence. What pulls me towards the source of the so-called coincidence is some kind of divine silence. The silence talks to me and just refuses to use the logical approach and write it off as something which is just misread.

No. It’s not misread at all. I am sure of it. Sometimes, I think I have found my destiny in the respect of which it matters, and suddenly all of my life makes sense. I just hope that this is felt by the source as well. I think some people and situations are just meant to complete each other. And that is serendipity - and not coincidence.

I would like to share with all of you that everything does not need to make sense in the strict meaning of our terms. There are things which are unknown and which are hidden for years. Why? I don’t know. Perhaps because the time wasn’t right anytime else, and it wasn’t just meant to be then. But it is meant to be now. 

Mother Nature is kind and shows us the path ONCE - just once. But again, do we really listen?

I am still new to this journey, but yes, I do understand that something is happening. For now, I can just wish.

From Novice to Novelist - a guest blog post by Michele Shaw

Dear Reader,

It is indeed my privilege to have my first guest post from a good friend and a writer who has pretty much been there, done that when it comes to writing fiction. If you want to write a novel, and are a beginner - this post could change your approach and be one of the most important you've read.

I would like to briefly intoduce Michele Shaw who tweets by the handle @veertothewrite

He Bio says - Author represented by Karen Grencik of Red Fox Literary. I write YA, horror, and short stories. I may bust out a poem on a whim.

Trust me, that says too little about her, and you have to visit her on http://micheleshaw.blogspot.com/

This is what Michele has to say about going from Novice to Novelist.

- Marcus

x-x-x-x

Writing a novel is a daunting task, but one any writer with the passion, drive, and determination necessary can accomplish. Now, writing a good novel? That takes practice and a bit more stamina, not to mention voice, the ability to carry a story with conflict and tension, and bringing it to a logical end without everything falling apart. Writing a great novel? Yikes, you need all of the above plus talent. Oodles of it.

Getting any novel published and into the hands of readers has its own challenges, but none of them matter if you don't: Write. The. Book. Here are some things I'd like to share as reminders to help you get started:

* Know the basics of grammar and punctuation. No one is perfect, but brush up. You'll save yourself a lot of time down the line if there's less to fix. I make mistakes all the time (probably even in this post), but I’m always learning and it’s getting easier.

* If you want to write for fun only, by all means, do! But, if you plan on getting ANY kind of writing published, consider taking a class that includes group critiques. You really need to know if you have the stomach for criticism, because it will come, and there will be times when it's not pretty. Many times. Classes that offer feedback can give you a glimpse into what you're in for, and you aren't tied to a permanent critique partner or group at that point. Also, you can practice your writing, learn, and make writer friends. All good things.

* Write what you like. Don't write what's hot at the moment, what your mother wants you to write, or what seems "easy." Write what gets you excited to sit in front of that keyboard, what keeps your mind churning when you try to sleep, what comes from your heart. Everything else is a waste of time, and it will show in the writing. Read extensively and think about what you liked in those books. That can guide your interest in writing.

*Revise carefully. When you receive feedback, read it, but know you aren't bound to those suggestions. If they are great and you see big improvements in your story, go for it. But, there will be times when you just don't agree, and THAT'S OKAY! Be grateful for the feedback, but selective with what you use.

*Develop your own approach and know that what works for you is the only "right" way. Write at the time of day that works, in the location that distracts you least or inspires you most. Plot if that's what gets you going, pants if you have to start writing to start writing. Don't expect to have your approach all figured out in a day, either. It takes trial and error, and most of all, time.

* Know going in that your first draft will probably be a mess. You should still try to do your best, and it should have a good foundation, but know that revisions, editing, possibly even rewriting are in your future after you hit "The End."

*Finally, just do it. Stop talking about writing, tweeting about writing, reading articles, and whining about how you don't have enough time. You'll never finish if you don't start. Now...go!

written by Michele Shaw

Not at all...

Does the voice in you,
Touch, and cry to you.
The never taken path, but yet found.

Through the obscure broken visions,

Of your untouched reality.

Fire within, yet cold outside;
Unsettling icicles form the path of my breath.
Moving to be a master of nothingness.
And what is created;

Is exorbitant, free, unwound, alive.

Your darkening eyes around whats bright
And the shallow depths of what made those things
Here, nothing is duty, rightly more, a call

Envision not a clearer sky,

But a sky not at all

The dawn would break...

In the highest destinations,
the moon shines well
In the luminous skies of hearts,
the stars cast enthralling spells

Summoned to glory,
and the stony prisons;
fate trapped itself,
in immense reasons

All the long wings,
clearly broken in the nest;
an essence to restore,
none would now rest

In all the floods,
a monstrous thunder clap;
sighting the eternal,
and a never ending nap

Mirrors reflect gaze of strangers;
Unholy all brooks and shrines;
All the reasons, impetuous seasons,
could not compel time to define

Madness made sense,
to falter was to abide;
Though it was a throbbing edge,
harmony with it was tied

All the time, just flew by;
the horizon never touched the sky
Freedom lurked in luminous visions,
all the threats, some charming treasons

Looking towards the bridal day,
knowing it would never come
hope seemed a crazy indulgence,
nothing left to overcome

Despite none favoured,
nothing could bring it down;
a resolve so mighty,
it just wouldn’t drown

The dawn would break,
and the meadows would be near;
though fortune seldom eavesdrops,
even lesser does it appear

What shall be my way?

I wonder if it should twinge to love this way,
this isn’t something I had to try
If I would have a choice to ignore and let go,
I would so much rather die
The ways of things are strange and narrow,
and it tries to push me more in obscurity
But I realize that it is now chosen,
though considered as a dreaded insanity

There are some ties which can’t be broken,
simply to leave them as they are
What if you felt the harmony of such light,
despite you’re near, or far

To walk this way, to learn the indications,
it wasn’t hard to tell
as I withdrew, it only grew,
a forever self replenishing well

I just hold on to the ledge of hope,
and grow stronger with each passing day
If you loved me at any point in time,
Can you tell me, what shall be my way?

Any part of your way...

Gratitude extends to no one but you
You made me realize what is true
The time I long, the moment I seek
To land my love, my lips to your cheek

I shall always be indebted to you
I shall always be in love with you
Distances which pain, foolish is the cause
Don’t know why we allowed, the time to pause

Can you hear me whisper, calling out
Everyone hears it, without a doubt
Can you feel, each moment I walk the mile of missing
And do signs come to you, singing, kissing

I think there is some higher purpose
But I can’t take more of this pain
Can you feel a bit of what I do
Is nothing but love for you, true, insane

Why can’t you open yourself, or do you lie?
Why these reasons stronger to care for
I may be a devil, no one hears it, but I still pray
You are all that I ever think of anymore

If this is some kind of test, I wouldn’t know
If I had the care to suffer losing, I wouldn’t show
While I feel you within me everyday,
Do these feelings touch any part of your way

The wrong of wrongs...

You look towards the crossroads, and I have no choice
To say that much is cared for, I now have no voice
Always dared to commit the wrong of wrongs
All world thinks I deserve the world; I’m insane
But who can lift the seasons of a fool who knows
When the soul is in division of itself, night and day
Why do all the turbulent seas bring me to the same shores
Tired of all the reckless and the mindful chores
And finding it difficult to swallow me entirely,
Damned is the land and shameful is even the ravenous sea
I never clamber to the loftiness of a dreamless sleep
As within each of mine, there are deeply ground fences
All prospects are mere bodies, lurking shadows deep
And in another reality, lies the pain of your absent presence
Any worldly thing as I extend a mental embrace,
Within all that’s distinguished, I always see your beautiful face
We’d spend the same times, we’d wind the same clocks
In another territory, save for your abysmal ignorance
The flowering, embroidered, and torn yet refined delusion
Why is it only the dead can be forgiven, and commit to memory
Do you undergo the exquisiteness of this chosen misery
A proud, haughty and not so well deserved mind; a fool
Is the pertinent sanctity really been given to what’s unseen, unfelt – yet,
How habitually is it felt, we’re doing what we should
in a world built only from metal and wood,
While some other domain lies somewhere, thus far obscure,
and hiding, waiting, watching from within a hood

The unsung song

I got caught, from heel to throat
And it all seemed supernatural
Not caring what is thought of it
Neither how my own self wrought it
I didn’t ever realize what disaster occurred,
to my mind, my sanity to just be
But it didn’t seem any moment suffered
Which only the night and moon could see
And as I keep staring at it, and belong
Even it realises there is some magic
Even it listens to the unsung song
But with the hearts trapped within, it’s tragic

I didn't know...

I didn’t know that in one life, there could be so many moments which are eternal
I didn’t know that the memories I try to run from, will chase me until I understand them
I didn’t know that when people told me I was wrong, sometimes I really was…
 I didn’t know that when I was clicking photographs, that they can be a medium of many fierce memories
I didn’t know that what I passed off as unimportant, will become the details that matter
I didn’t know that when I was thinking of that unknown ‘someone’, I was falling deeply in love
I didn’t know that while I took each day for granted, the time which passed never came back
I didn’t know that when I knew the unknown 'someone' the first time, each time I close my eyes, she would be there
I didn’t know that what I thought was pain, was nothing… and what I considered as nothing, gave me a lot of pain
I didn’t know that my weaknesses, will someday become my strengths
I didn’t know that I had to spend most of my life to understand what it is – and then, there’s so little left to matter

Some questions always remain...

Why does it seem that it is so much of a race on one side, and a process of pulling each other down on so many other instances? Why can’t people just try and understand that life is something which is less to be understood and more to be lived – and then to be lived better taking the experiences you already lived through. Reality is truly very subjective – just like beauty – or for that matter, love.

Everything need not be a lesson. Everyone need not be about how ‘mature’ you are or how much worthy you think yourself to be. Everything need to be about proving yourself right. It need not be about what you have or don’t. It may be false turning true and otherwise. It may be a mess, but it need not be permanently fixated in your head.
 

Why is it so difficult for us to understand that we can be wrong – not once, but quite sometimes and that maybe our vision is too restricted? Why can’t we stop fuming and getting annoyed at something’s which are a part of the happenings when people love each other? Why don’t we believe despite falling – and despite falling, why don’t we try and make a good difference in someone’s life?

This post is not written to make a point. I’m just not good with points and things like that. All I’m trying to say is that we as ‘humans’ have only grown in the field of the intellect. The only two things which I think humans have made a ‘progress’ in is technology and medical science. Besides this, what do you think we have grown in? Aren’t we noticing that this is all a system, created by nothing but ourselves? Can’t we see that relationships were better and stable earlier, ‘cause most of the people understood their roles in the lives of the people they truly care about? Aren’t we getting more self-centered? Aren't we getting a lot more lonely, despite of so many people around us? 

Some of the questions written above are questions to myself and I am trying to find an answer – a way in which I can make a difference to the lives of the people that matter to me – and the others, who I can reach by just one medium – the written page.

The dream be dense...

Why does everyone’s noise,
tell you where to go
and all the senseless tales,
bring you down, to and fro

Just consume that very drug
which brings in the calm
your inner voice may then sing
in a sweetly grotesque form

It’s the silence which holds
all the secrets of eternity
But here lies my bed of thorns
Afraid to fly to an unknown destiny

But how real is real really,
when it’s all what you can think
A reverie is to in trance live freely
Until your deep dark secrets sink

 
Caught in the web, one cannot feel;
the senses numbed by what is called sense.
Mesmerized; dancing with a shadow that steals,
Enveloping you in a story; shall the dream be dense

IQ and the Blank Page

It’s really been a while since I wrote and my frequency is declining. The material world takes too much of my time, in which I am using the hyped IQ to achieve some common unknown goals which everybody seems to be chasing. The Rat Race – and all of that. Well, it’s all to be short lived anyways… and I’m back… kind of.

I see an increase in my readers and that is a great fact to know. Thank you. That increase made me want to come to the blank page this time around. You give me some of that encouragement to write; when I’m caught up playing ‘human’. And I really do think I need to get to the blank page more often henceforth. I do not have any specific topic to discuss in this post, but I just thought we need to chat for a while – u know, generally.

Speaking of IQ and the Blank Page, I often wonder about how life can shape up. What unknown dimensions does it have? What can you think about anyone who would do not possess the IQ (which normal humans are blessed with), has speech problems and is dyslexic? What will he/she be like when he is 25; or 30? What would you think his/her future would be? Can anyone guess? Tough future, isn’t it?

That’s because we are tuned to thinking in a particular way, and do not create and follow any way of our own. The thinking which we think is our own is nothing but a choice which you have given yourself within your restricted sphere of imagination. Society, peers and this so called gigantic ‘world’ does have an influence on you in your growing years. The IQ grows as well in all humans and then it leads to taking a path, once again within your restricted sphere of imagination; which ironically, is called ‘reality’ by most humans. But the trouble is; we don’t nurture it in tune with our emotions. Yes, we do live in a society and ‘man is a social animal’ and all of that fundamental talk which is squeezed in our mind when we are the most vulnerable to learn.

I feel privileged to NOT have a common sense earlier to learn whatever was taught to me. It made me think on my own. It made me look around and draw my own conclusions rather than the limited choices which people think about due to Education and Society norms, morals / ethics; or whatever. Post developing an IQ, I noticed how its speedy development started affecting my judgment and reasoning. That is a long drawn discussion, but all I am saying is – in the end it made me realize one thing – nothing can be generalized. Everything can exist and anything is possible. I realized that life is not about how many days you spend in the arms you love, but how many hours you truly believe in it. It made me wonder why do we follow something’s about religion and ethnicity even when we don’t understand it’s basis – or even if WE want to use it; or follow it. What is peer pressure? Why do we succumb to it? Why do we do things which we don’t want to really do merely because we consider reputation as the next best important thing in our lives? It made me think that why do we get so caught up in a system which is self created; and then which self restricts.

What I am trying to say is – let not people, numbers, past, money, power or anything else determine what is ‘success’ or ‘happiness’ for you. Stop a while and think what your motivating factors are.

In writing, write what you think, and don’t think what you have to write. Give your whole self to the blank page without any edits from your true soul. Will you be successful? I don’t know. I don’t know what ‘success’ is for you. For me ‘success’ in writing is less about being accepted on what I write and more about being able to give the world some piece of information – some missing link – which I believe is being self-blinded in this whole part of the equation of the Rat Race and our search for love, money and security in this world. Success for me is also exploring my own thoughts - though I rarely read my own work back, unless I feel my thoughts have changed drastically and I wish to analyze and re-affirm a point within my own conscious - or even subconscious. Though I do have many illustrations of my so called 'definition' of success -  in a way success cannot be defined. Do you base your success on money, admiration, love, fame – or something else? Think about it. It is worth pondering on it NOW. It is better than reaching the end of your life and realizing that what you achieved is another’s definition of what ‘success’ is – while yours could be achieved a long time ago – maybe more simply and easily. 

Well, that’s all for now. Talk to you soon. Godspeed.

Dream...

A dream, came and perched
on my shoulder, strong
Then, my eyes only searched
your eyes, it had been long

Like a dove, I went on
and on, flying on my imaginary
skies, clouds of you drawn
every minute; our parting anniversary

Black and white, means nothing
to me now, I just love
you with my unknown might, achieving
something no Gods have above

And with your absence, as I see
nothing but long blankness, into
a world, a prison; I cannot disagree
Until it’s time to bid adieu
 
But as each judgment bends, its way
into a heart, the depth partially unknown
there is something that distance cannot weigh,
everyday, my love I see, a little more grown
  
So now it is just me, awake and silent
into these nights and days, I have been
from my senses which soar violent
into a dream, no mortal has ever seen

Why can't we halt...

Why can’t we halt, for just awhile
and breathe looking into the open sky
Why can’t we for a simple reason smile
That there are some feelings, we just can’t deny

Why can’t we sing a sweet new song each day
Or sing the one’s that bring in some light
So that we create a fresh right of way
To experience some of life’s unseen delights

Why can’t we exist each day – a new poetry
and breathe carelessly for just sometime
And grip anything with a bond, fiercely
And trust in nothing, but hours sublime

Why are we so tied up in explaining
For something’s, which just need to be felt
There is nothing worth more than now
Sometimes it’s alright to stop believing

Why can’t we just take a long leap
to a journey so much unknown
Only make the good moments seep deep
In your heart, you’re never alone

So now, I let myself soar towards nowhere,
Whether I’m missing or not being missed
And to me I nowadays these questions ask
And just hold this time by its delicate wrist;
So – Why can’t we halt, for just awhile
and breathe looking into the open sky

- Marcus Hades

What makes me write about the dark side...

I write this to clarify certain aspects about writing – especially the variety of dark genres. Readers and critiques would always link a writers style with their personality and gauge their mental attitudes and persona. They feel that the writers who write dark fiction and poetry are the ones who are depressed or mentally unstable. They are considered to be negative and perhaps even given advice like “Why don't you write happy stuff?” or “You should look at the bright side of life” etc. I already have explained in an earlier post that I do not have a choice when I write. I simply write and place it in front of an audience. While I cannot speak on behalf of all writers who write in these genres, I can only state this for myself. I write stories and poetry and many articles what I trust do not come in any specific type of work. A story may be classified in a genre, but my job as a writer is to just write, while it is for the people to make that classification.

If you ask me why I write horror, dark or stories representing Gothic romance, my answers are simple. If you notice any story I have written, closely, there are all kinds of elements present in them. The dark side of whatever I write does not come out from within me per se all the time. It comes out of what I see from people around, read in the news or have experienced firsthand. It comes from all kinds of people. Insensitive people, greedy people, ruthless people, selfish people and so many other kinds. I see their actions, their words and the bad ways in which they handle a situation. I see their dark side, and how they comfortably veil it to satisfy themselves and others. This is all seen by me as a witness, and hence this flows into my stories. Well, I honestly think critics need to see the work and not try and gauge the writers personality per se. It makes way for faulty readership and judgment. The writer’s do quite some introspection for themselves I think (hence I guess are able to write). So now, whenever you read something dark and are beginning to gauge anything else besides the work - look within yourselves and answer this – is the darkness you read on paper because of something or someone you know; or yourself? Godspeed.

We all expect a fairytale

We all expect a hundred percent fairytale without us being even one-tenth of an angel. – Marcus Hades

Write your beautiful expressions and always treasure them. Write your problems, limitations, sorrows, complaints, blames and grudges on a piece of paper and burn them once you write them. Because when you will be in troubled times, the words that soothe will help you more than the words which hurt.

It all depends if we condition our mind to be something like a selective sponge.

We must treasure beautiful memories or expressions we give or receive with the most care and love. You must know that they are not only words, but you said them, or it was said because it was true. If two people fight, they should remember the beauty that exists between them and forget the differences soon, and chalk out an amicable way.

Remembering flaws, arguments, etc. and adding them up just doesn’t help. Have you ever tried adding up all the blissful moments together and seen what magic happens?

I would call this some kind of multiplier effect. And centuries have been spent explaining like attracts like. Bad memories and adding them, speaking them, will create more of them. Good memories and adding them, not taking them for granted, forgiving, letting-go will do that magic in your life.

If you don't receive reciprocation in this, then do it for yourself. It will still make a lot of difference in everything you do.

The crux of this is - you can think only one thought at a time. Make it a good new thought, or a repeat of only the good memories. Anything else is just a waste of life. Think about it. How do I know this? Tried it both ways.

And remember, the clock is always ticking. Time is immortal. You're not.