Saudade Mosh Masquerade

This poem was written in parts over three months, I kept writing down the lines as they hit me. Most at social events and parties. The last party I attended inspired me to finish it. I'd love to know the picture that forms in your head when you read this and the story that you see.

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Broken crystal stemware bleeding Pinot Noir.

The scent of a moment fleeting,

A distance glimpse in the dark,

A dash of red and turquoise,

The waft of an enticing fragrance floats in the air

A familiar face of a stranger once known

Flashes in the distant darkness.

Searching for words that are lost

In the breath of an instant.

Hundreds making merry into the night

Masks shielding desires unfulfilled

Rampant insecurities that plague them from within.

Like chameleons changing colors
Their slithery skins that shine bright.

They chat, glutton, drink and dance

Making merry all night long

Their escapism betting on

The secret geometry of chance*

Across the room stands the lone satyr

The soldier battered and bruised

Ravaged and unfulfilled.

His gaze the destroyer of fabricated lies

These masks of pretence that they wear

They crumble down and off their faces.

The familiar face of a stranger once known,

Evokes a sense of nostalgia

In a fraction of a moment,

Comes a tumult of emotions

Of joy and anger

Of wrath and guilt

Of  longing and affection

Saudade.
Mosh masquerade**

The satyr's eyes wander and follow

The lecherous monsters that click their tongues

Feasting their eyes on a prospective meal.

To satisfy their lust born hunger

They prowl about, waiting for their chance

Waiting to sink their teeth in.

All for a night’s worth of peaceful slumber.  

The soldier feels compelled to act

To protect it is his duty.

But the thorns of the past still pierce his heart

They remind him that he has played his part

To break or not to break continuity-

And then the moment’s gone.

At the end of a long drawn battle
that lasts in between the seconds

The satyr…. he realizes

He succumbs to the norm

Ashamed as much as he is

He is forced to swallow his pride.

He puts on his mask and bows his head

For some things... are just best left unsaid.

Notes: 


  * This line is inspired by the song "Shape of my heart" by Sting.
 ** A disguise or false outward show; a pretense: a masquerade of humility.
      An involved scheme; a charade.



We are very different people when we are by ourselves. We are very different people when interacting with others face to face.We put on this 'social mask' of pretence that hides who we are, and makes us what who we'd like to be.This added with my interest in psychology has been a constant fascination. 














And a very Happy Birthday to Kanika Kaul . The girl who gave me the tiny push over the edge and now I can take better pictures ...and make the crappy ones look better :D She was humble enough to decline a full fledged blogpost so hoots to her!