poems&notes

Hello there. In this blog, sometimes, we post stuff we find in our drafts, regardless of how old or new they might be.

1

Auscultatory,
Barely,
Stifled and choked back,
Cries mandatory,
Of love lives.
But merely,
a directory,
of names that once brought joy.
Kind of lazily,
ransacked.
And a loss of symmetry,
Adorns the carefree,
Sin factory.

Grief is universal.
Present, stubborn, just around the corner.
But Grief had nothing to teach me and it did not learn anything new from me. I was typical. It was typical. We were staring each other in the eyes. None of us looked away; eyes questioning but not demanding answers, not wanting answers. On my part, like any other grieving person, I refused to see beauty in the patterns of the universe and for reasons that still make sense. Everything ended in grief. I couldn’t see it coming but we stayed, hand in hand, until time made one of us disappear.


2

Piano tiles,
And the slender fingers,
Of the lover.
Gone a million miles,
North East,
And eased,
Into the fantasies,
Of your carbon whore,
Who she abhors,
But loves you more,
Anyway,
For the ecstasies ,
That you bestowed,
On her poor soul.

They think (hope) that I would do the honorable thing and think of you as a rival but I choose to be a coward this once in their eyes and be brave for myself. I have decided to cherish your existence. You have lessened the burden of life on me and many many others. Pardon me for being extra cheesy about it.

Competition and rivalry have always looked foolish and a waste of time to me. You win or you don’t. What’s there to lose? Loss is something quite unfathomable when one thinks of it as a consequence of something quite equally unfathomable. But truly, loss could possibly not be prevented. All in all, you (you as in the person I write about when I write about destiny) are either a rival or potentially, the only and the first spark of something presumably resembling love. And if I don’t cherish it, then I am an idiot.


3

I heard He likes broken hearts and resides in them
So when you broke my heart
I gathered the pieces and handed them all to God
And asked to him to accept the price and fix you
It sounds like bribery ; trust me, it wasn’t
but I really didn’t know what to do
I can’t fix you
It’s not that I haven’t tried
I’ve prayed night after night after night
And Im sorry I’m not a man
But In your eyes
Just half a human

I wanted to look up the stats. How many girls are killed each year for being girls? What percentage of abortions are done because the fetus is found to be female? How many women are killed and then said that it was in the God forsaken name of honor every year? What percentage of girls face emotional and mental abuse in their own homes just because they supposedly committed the felony of possessing the XX.
Women are mad brave. I must say it again. Women are brave. So brave. All except some really stupid ones are really brave. At some point in history, capitalism made everyone weigh your importance with the gold that you bring in. Welcome to rich kids’ dumb little playground.


4

I wish that I knew
Where you would go
Now that you’ve left yourself alone

Sadness is far more complicated than happiness could ever hope to be. Happiness lacks reason. It’s random and light. It comes and goes. It stays and sometimes, does not. Sadness takes time to develop and to grow; to house in your heart and be at home; open doors, running water, sunlight pouring in,nice and cozy. Years. And by the time one notices sadness, it has been engraved and rooted so deep inside one’s heart of hearts. There. Settled; with children and grandchildren and multiple wives.

They all chuckle as we wonder what made us so completely and irreversibly sad.


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