Self-love or otherwise.
Your first attempt at love
Continue reading Self-love or otherwise.
teaches you true love.
The ‘I’ve got to make this work’ kind,
the innocent, ‘vanilla is the best’ kind,
the unconditional, ‘always? always.’ kind.
For me, the girl was a reincarnation
of everything I had ever loved.
There were no terms and conditions,
and we didn’t take steps one day at a time.
Our bed was a cosmic sky of fairly dust
and we didn’t need hope.
There were a few fights
here on text messages
there on WhatsApp statuses,
but all was good forever
till one day it wasn’t.
I visited a dead city once.
no roads, no shelters, no bodies.
There were only broken walls,
shattered roads, and souls –
an aftermath of war.
I believe that after our final lesson
of letting go of life,
the souls learn how to stay
and so among these ruins,
they kick back, relax, and love cosmically
because this graveyard was and is their home.
In the wreckage,
on some stones, I found epitaphs
“A. Stark, died protecting his family”.
On others, I found eulogies written by
one dead friend to another dead friend.
There was destruction here but also a promise
that these souls were safe
There was hate but also love,
my fear but also my hope.
I’m scared that the world will end in war,
that the last thing we’ll hear
will be a battlecry or the silent roars of bombs,
that we’ll go out with a big bang too.
We’ll fight for just a day too long
and spit curses,
catapulting us towards oblivion.
I’m afraid that with the flick of a switch,
we’ll ‘factory data reset’ the world
and just like that, cease to exist.
No more history, no more books, no more readers.
Just broken buildings and the howls
of nature. Smoke, ash, death.
I’m very scared that this tendency
of humans to fill in silences with noise
will lead us to destruction
because not many of us understand
that silences and peace are deep conversations
and war is small talk.
But I am also hopeful
that love will save some of us.
When the human call of death comes,
two young souls will hide.
People with hearts so in love that the universe
deems it too big a loss
to lose them.
I’ve always pictured these two kids
finding shelter in the deepest corners
of the world. If need be, the Earth will crack open
and keep them safe inside.
They’ll be put to sleep while heaven
sings them lullabies
and hell itself rises to protect them.
No war, no screams, no hate
will reach them.
And when they’re ready,
they’ll come back up
and be our next Adam and Eve.
I’m hopeful that something as magical
will bring us back to life.
Into stories? – Let’s live forever
Instagram – @myspirals
Stop fucking poetry.
“it’s easy to be a writer in 2019”
Continue reading Stop fucking poetry.
what makes you think it’s easy
to be a writer ever?
Some get traumatized
by bullying or an early divorce or assault
and they write war cries
down on paper. Every syllable, every decibel,
screaming louder than their oppressors.
It’s the scream, the pain, the voice
Some stay happy
because everything worked out
and they pen down crooked smiles
and sunshine on paper. They heal you
one hope at a time.
I write about love
because even though my heart has been broken,
it’s still beating
and I find that magical.
I find it amazing that I can live as a thousand pieces
and love new people in new ways.
I find it beautiful that a broken heart
still falls in love when it needs to.
My therapist in all his
Continue reading Fallen angels
self-love and happiness glory
asked me to tell you how much I loved you,
so this is it.
This is my confession.
You taught me poetry doesn’t have to be
Continue reading Strip-poetry.
It doesn’t have to rhyme
every single time.
All poetry needs to be is a punch
into someone’s gut
strong enough to make them gasp.
“Poetry is a seed
and you are the sunflower.”
Strip a poem word by word
down to this bare bone,
and you’ll find that poetry
is just a couple of words deep.
Poetry is about when you read it.
Poetry is about how much you need it.