The Caramel Skin…

Treads
Thread One : Jungle Fever Vs Caramel Fever : Soulful Layers (Blog)

Description This poem beautifully intertwines the worlds of football and personal growth, using the imagery of prominent football figures like Zinedine Zidane and Karim Benzema to convey deeper philosophical reflections on life. The comparison of the poet’s pen dancing on the page to Zidane’s foot artistry on the football stage captures the fluidity and grace

Description This poem beautifully intertwines the worlds of football and personal growth, using the imagery of prominent football figures like Zinedine Zidane and Karim Benzema to convey deeper philosophical reflections on life. The comparison of the poet’s pen dancing on the page to Zidane’s foot artistry on the football stage captures the fluidity and grace

“The Aesthetic Of Decay“
When I see “a gruesome suicide, painted in front of my eyes,” the image hits me with a visceral force, its vividness carving a scene of raw, unfiltered horror into my mind. The word “gruesome” doesn’t just suggest death—it drags me into a decay so deep it repulses and fascinates me all at once, an aesthetic that somehow makes the grotesque beautiful. I can’t help but think of Schopenhauer’s bleak view: life as a ceaseless churn of suffering, a canvas I’m forced to stare at, smeared with despair’s dark shades. For me, this suicide isn’t just an end—it’s a desperate claim to power in a world that offers nothing but pain, the last stroke I imagine on a portrait of collapse.
But the fact that I see it “painted” shifts everything—it’s not just happening; I’m making it art. I’m the one holding the brush, turning chaos into something deliberate. I stand back, not caught up in the mess but watching it unfold, a chronicler of ruin. It feels like Schopenhauer’s resignation creeping in—I know the will to live is a sham, yet here I am, still compelled to look, to record. Whether it’s “Kali” or some suffocating system I’ve conjured, its end isn’t a victory—it’s a self-inflicted fall, and I’m the one staring at it, unflinching.

There’s a strange calm in that distance, a Buddhist echo whispering that nothing lasts—not Kali, not the systems I’ve built in my head, nothing. They crumble, their power fading into a smudge of paint I’ve left on the canvas. Nietzsche’s words hit me here: “What does not kill me makes me stronger” (Twilight of the Idols), but I wonder—maybe it’s not strength I gain, just the grit to keep watching as it all unravels. That gruesome suicide I’ve painted isn’t just a finish line; it’s a truth I can’t escape: everything mighty—gods, rules, me—rots away, and I’m left holding the brush, tracing the outlines of impermanence.
So I find myself caught in this aesthetic of decay, a twisted kind of freedom in the wreckage I’ve imagined. That suicide I see isn’t only suffering—it’s my quiet rebellion against anything lasting too long, against the lie of forever. The Bible’s voice cuts through: “For dust you are, and to dust you shall return” (Genesis 3:19), and I feel it in my bones, a truth that ties me to the dirt and the divine all at once. Schopenhauer’s gloom, Buddhism’s letting go, Nietzsche’s defiance—they mix in me, and I turn the horror into something I can hold, something almost beautiful. What’s left is an image I can’t shake—not a scream, but a proof of everything falling apart, and me, still here, watching it fade.

Description This poem beautifully intertwines the worlds of football and personal growth, using the imagery of prominent football figures like Zinedine Zidane and Karim Benzema to convey deeper philosophical reflections on life. The comparison of the poet’s pen dancing on the page to Zidane’s foot artistry on the football stage captures the fluidity and grace



Description
Follow my poetic and art skills and glorious might,
The two are pumped by my own pride.
I know the fans are obsessed with the art, with delight,
They follow me like the pied piper into the forest,
Blinded by the poetic notes, lovely and gorgeous.
Seeing my artistry at the peak of the pyramids,
All the praises and adoration sparked a flame
In my heart, causing arson and decay,
From lacking character and integrity, at bay.
The fame and praises are the diesel, and my heart is the flame,
Out of nowhere, my body explodes like a suicide bomber,
Me, along with my fans, body parts imploded
into a bloodbath in the forest. If only I had mastered character and integrity
before the artistry became potent,
and the fame and praise came to me,
Down this narrow path with ease.

Description This poem beautifully intertwines the worlds of football and personal growth, using the imagery of prominent football figures like Zinedine Zidane and Karim Benzema to convey deeper philosophical reflections on life. The comparison of the poet’s pen dancing on the page to Zidane’s foot artistry on the football stage captures the fluidity and grace



Description
This poem explores the theme of emotional turmoil and the destructive nature of addiction and vice. The speaker compares their experiences with romantic relationships to being wounded by bullets, emphasizing the pain and fragmentation caused by failed connections.
The opening line, “Never had my heart broken by dozen women,” suggests a history of failed relationships, but with a twist—instead of traditional romantic heartbreak, the speaker has been hurt by their own vices and addictions. These vices are personified as “ex’s” who “formed like women bodily flesh,” indicating their seductive and consuming nature.
The reference to the “Darkside” suggests a descent into a morally compromised state, where the speaker’s actions and judgment are clouded by their addictions. This journey is described as a “wild ride,” implying a lack of control and direction.
The line “Having them taking over my mind felt worse than Micheal Myers stabbing my heart with a knife” vividly depicts the agony of being consumed by addiction. The comparison to the infamous horror character Michael Myers suggests a relentless and horrifying assault on the speaker’s psyche.
The poem concludes with the haunting image of these vices as “violent ex’s” who wanted to be the speaker’s “wife,” indicating a possessive and destructive relationship. The phrase “Until death do us apart with strife” suggests that these addictions are intertwined with the speaker’s existence, leading to inevitable suffering and struggle.
Overall, the poem delves into the darkness of addiction and its profound impact on the individual, portraying a visceral and deeply personal journey of pain and self-destruction.
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