Post 100.

Well, I feel like this blog has done its work (for those of you who know what I'm talking about). It is time for me to start something new. And to do that, this blog will have to retire. I'll just use this blog as a "notebook" of my past poems. So I guess this is farewell, blogger. Thank you for all you've done :).

Anyways, I have recently joined tumblr and decided to make a blog for something totally new. It'll most likely take me a while to decide what to do with it, but hopefully it turns out to be as beneficial and worth my time as this blog has. For those of you interested: www.shabmash.tumblr.com. :)

Roar.
Shab :)

My Lack of Posts.

I'm currently working on a novel, which is why you might have noticed me not posting anything recently. Life has been really well for me in the last three months and one day :). For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, I am particularly talking about one specific person who has changed my world and continues to do so (in new and wonderful ways) :). Well, hope this novel actually gets finished, unlike the other three(?) I have started, but will remain undone :P.

We.

We walk

among people with blank stares,

no emotions visible,

no coloration in their faces.

Then again,

they may just be ghosts.

We talk

without realizing who is hearing our conversation,

no notion of what is being absorbed,

no realization of what people are thinking.

Then again,

we don't care.

We live

in places that people only dream of,

no gratefulness of what we really have,

no starvation, no violence.

Then again,

who said we were really alive after all?

For Whatever Reasons.

Don't linger on the past.
Move on, live happier, make a difference.

Make mistakes, take risks, party harder.

But never forget who you are.
Live how you want to live.
Don't let anyone live your life for you.
And be proud of who you are.
For whatever reasons.

Simple.

Simple.

I worry.
Its who I am.
Who I always was.
No changing me.
Not because its not possible.
Simply because
I don't want to change.

I do what I want.
I date who I want.
What you say isn't going to change that.
How you act now because I'm with him is quite sad.
I guess you don't take change well.
Simply because
You can't accept change.

I live how I want.
I like who I am.
Scratch that.
I love who I am.
I really do.
Simply because
I don't let anyone live my life.

I believe what I want.
Nothing you say will change that.
I have my own opinions.
My own feelings about events and people.
So deal with it.
Simply because
You have no choice but to.

I am human.
Obviously.
I make mistakes.
I do things that you may not approve of.
And I don't regret any of them.
Simply because
I learn from my mistakes.

I am and always will be me.
And my list can go on and on.
I am this.
I am that.
So what's my point?
Simple.
You aren't me, so thank (the metaphorical) god for that.
_____Because one of me is enough.

Empty.

I know I am smart,
But I'm definitely not perfect.

Lightening on the brightest day.
Its my darkest hour.

You wonder how I stay so happy.
I accept pain, darkness, and this emptiness.

Colliding into a concrete wall.
Jaw broken, heart shattered.
Clinging to all that I have left, not much.

Living on life's delicate showers.
The very ones that drowned me deep.

Till' lights dimmed and the water cooled.
Daylight broke the silent chills, the moonlight cried to sleep.

The very ones that choked me.
Killed me. Used me.
The very ones that leave me.

Empty.

Weeds.

Love fails every time.
But hate lives past all bright days,
It survives, like weeds and even stronger.

My heart, fonder.
Killing everything I am,
Everything I could be.

Drowns me in the darkest sorrows,
until morning due...
no longer follows.

Simplicity.

Happiness no longer ceases to exist.
Its light is for you,
A candle, flickers.

Not here.
Not now.
Or ever.

Say awake until I can no more.
My vision blanks,
my pulse slows.

Sunny days, I heard you wonder.
Away from me,
Away, thy yonder.

Artistification.

I will never stop making art.
No matter how hard I try to pull myself away from it,
ideas continue to run though my head.

An artist is and artist.
Inspiration runs thought our blood,
and it can never fade out.

Art is what I thrive on.
It what gets me through the darkest nights,
and gives me highs on the brightest days.

I can't imagine how people live without it.
It is without a shadow of a doubt, my oxygen,
My cocaine. my addiction.

"Perfection,
Down to the last
Flaw."

-Shabnam Mashhoon

Spitting Fire.

Thoughts shutter and buzz,
Highs lift me to the highest mountain,
As lows drown me beneath the deepest oceans.

Cliché as it may sound,
I find bliss within every misfortune,
And shuttering thoughts soar.

Life on the edge,
Echoing risky images into my cluttered mind,
Dropping a note, adding a line.

Paper lanterns hang above,
Spiting fire onto mirrored gems,
Ashes falling onto molten glory.

Midnight dust,
Shattered glasses,
Open hearts and bloody masses.


*Wrote this poem out of nowhere. Just whatever popped into my head at the time, I wrote down. It doesn't really make much sense, but there is a story (that I can only decipher) behind it. :)

Down.

I couldn't seem to have a day
when sadness was all that consumed me,
but when it hit, it was as if the world crumpled away
and the stars fell, pushing me down...
Down....
Down...
Into an ocean,
that in the end,
will drown me.

I don't know
what I did
to deserve this.

All the pain,
misery,
and sorrow.

Death seems
so beautiful and
divine to me now.

I'm not saying
I wish to die,
not at all.

But I am sometimes
jealous of those who are,
those so peacefully asleep.

Not having to worry
about anything
seems so perfect.

I guess
I shouldn't fight
falling down...
Down...

Down...

Because one way or another,
I will eventually falling in the arms,
of yours truly,

Death.

Vie.

Why does death fall sedately,
like mist on powdery petals,
of a flower's lashes?

Does light merely take place of a spotlight,
targeting the ill hearted and strong willed,
leaving the people in between in darkness?

Is the opaque, velvet sky a blanket,
stretched to the corners of this round earth,
from which we will fall through?

These thoughts, beautiful, yet scorched with abuse,
vie with our imagination, until the point of madness,
when we are forevermore put down,
and made a part of this cold-hearted world.

When the Din of the World Dissapears.

Frost melts
off tree branches,
benches, and
the sun kissed grass.

Light causes
the ice to twinkle
and as I watch,
I fall into you.

No longer
in a park, no longer
alone, but in your
warm arms.

Blissful memories
drown me, envelope me
in light, and the din of
the world disappears.

Blissful memories
turn to tormenting flashbacks,
as light fades to darkness,
and fog begins to fall around me.

My eyes
snap wide open,
realizing where I was
and what just happened.

You are
no longer here, just a
faded memory, but those memories,
who you were, were--are--my whole life.

When memories
fill me and flashbacks take over,
I don't walk away from them,
But continue to revisit them.

Just to
fall into you, into your arms,
I continue to live my life on those memories,
even if I have to live through the nightmare of knowing

it will never happen again.

Roar.

I'm Shab :). I believe you have to live in reality. Capture your dreams. And let them live. Therefore, I think like a realist, but dream like an idealist. And somewhere in between, live as both. Art is my drug and it continueously shoots through my veins. Its my addiction. My high. I am and always will be an architect; my dream, and future reality. Want nothing more than to designing works of art people can walk through. Live in. Dream of. I believe happiness is a choice, but admit darkness is beyond alluring. I try my best to live life and not let life live me. Life's full color is tucked beftween pages of musty books, and so I will never stop reading and will continue to write until my pen runs out of ink. I share my thoughts, feelings, experiences through words cluttered to form, hopefully, something more than merely words on a page. My shattered heart will most likely remain that way, waiting for someone to put it back together. Not "the one", for the there is no such person out there. Guess I'm not much of a happily-ever-after type of person. I believe no matter who's in love with who, love is love. It's beautiful and painful. And hate will simply always exsist. I will continue to live life knowing there is no God or any sort of higher being; just because you believe there is, doesn't mean I have to. My Friends are and always will be my extended family, they have all left an imprint on me, making me who I am. Oh, and when the sky melts, rainning inspiration onto my olive skin, my mind races. And when the fog envelopes me it makes me feel safe, breathe slower, and drowns me in pure bliss. I believe eyes are oceans that besiege you in intimacy. Lips, meant for kissing, and on occation, escaped lies. Sealed secrets. And hands either hold or kill. Death is beautiful, yet devistating. Life is painful. Unreal. My piano is my lover, and its music, his voice, sernading me. My camera captures vivid reality, but also illusion. The city is where I belong; the crowds make me feel safe, and its din is my music. War, to me, is a gamble of lives. Pointless. Inhuman. Stupid. Being unique is what I thrive for. I live in the moment. Feel the rush. Let it last. I'm proud of myself, for whatever reason and all the reasons I have to be, and will never forget who I am. I don't regret anything I have done. It has made me, me, something I would never change. My art and my words will live forever, leaving an impression on history, in an endless pool of ink.

Roar :).

Just a paragraph I felt like writing, summing me up (for the most part). Though this is like a "run-on paragraph", I felt that it made sense this way. After all people are whole (not split or cut into different sections), with different thoughts, impressions on life, and talents. Sorta like paint. A mix of paints together, forms one unique color... or in this case one unique person :).

His Tears.

Across the ocean,
His reflection is painted,
And reluctantly, he begins to fade,
As he slowly drowns.

And so the sky melts,
Bleeding blue and grey,
Until the whole city is filled
With puddles of tears.

He repainted, this time, among stars,
Along with the divine moon hung in indigo.
And now, when he so silently cries,
The world can feel his warm, salty tears running down their faces.

Bloodletting.

Nightmares drown me,
Sweat runs down my face.
Eyes snap open.

Nights like these,
Were your past visits you,
Fear without warning.

When your memories besiege you,
Hold you down,
And cut you wide open.

Crimson blood and pale flesh.
Bloodletting.
Hoping to let your past leak away.

Hoping to never again go back,
Never again be unhappy,
To only look forward to the future.

I don't know what the future has in store for me.
But I know what I can do to not let life live me,
But let me live life.

And yes, I realize I will run into concrete walls eventually,
My past will sooner or later flood back and revisit me,
But this time, I will be prepared.

My past has made me stronger.
Painful, yes, and sometimes I wish I never went through what I did,
But I'm glad it happened.

Because in the end,
It has taught me who
these people really are.

And even who they pretend to be.
And I feel sorry for them.
Every single one of them.