// Self portrayed 'democracies' ravage the world and humanity is reforged into a new moon. (No vestige of its existence) // __________________________________ @writersnetwork Thank you:) Tbh it doesn't really matter. Genuine readers always read. I've read many works which are to be appreciated too:( @hidden_sunshine Can't thank you enough.
A Field Of Buds. ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- Fri 29 May, 2020
Once upon a time,
a lonesome backyard of my cottage, was draped over by a silken rainbow cloak of young buds; they seem like the hypnagogia that twilight often brings. And, among those neonates, there was a bud, as brilliant as the others, and yet, so distinctive.
The bluebottle never forsook us and OUR TALE. It flew from your dewy petals to my waxy skin EVERY DAWNING DAWN. Molecules of dust are what we share.(maybe) Irises of my misty eyes distend EVERY PASSING DAY. Till you metamorphose into a flower. Maybe a sunflower, Coz my back beckons the east.
The bluebottle has stopped visiting now.
"Sometimes, neighbours can be miles apart. You don't need to me by your window, senior!"
P.S I know you're not gonna read this full. Just in case you do, You are loved,, okay??^_^
This is deeply connected to my previous poem, "Is this why she cries?" The spots and abysses also mean all the non-physical flaws that are imbibed in us. Hope you get what I mean there.^ Click here to read that #is_this_why_she_cries
The last few years having been proving us that being a human doesn't quantify the same as having humanity. Some of the rotten apples amongst us have made clear examples of that, the kind of harsh treatment they ail onto someone who doesn't look the same as they do, whether they be of a different colour, of the opposite gender or from a completely different species. They make it seem like their kind are the only ones who possess the right to live, they put a close to none amount of importance onto the lives of others. They seem to have forgotten that they don't own the earth, it's not their place to rule, it's not their property to defend and that they actually don't have any right to assert their dominance onto other species.
A pregnant elephant was fed a pineapple in Kerala, which was stuffed with firecrackers inside, that burst inside her mouth, damaging her jaw and eventually ended up killing her. She died standing half submerged in a river with excruciating pain, not understanding what was happening to her. A pit of fireball inside her mouth and a flaming question on her mind as to what to make of this. A nasty betrayal masked as a sweet gesture from someone she chose to trust. I'm ashamed to call myself a human, I'm disgusted to belong to the same species that treats everyone so harshly.
Words aren't cased in a sheath, fortunately, so if mine cause a slaughter, I hope an officer doesn't kneel on my neck, but why'd he come for me, I am not black?
Well, if every house in the neighborhood is burning, a few flames would be sufficient to set yours ablaze. And you have to be a fool to not realise that!
Communities learn from one another and as much effort it takes to inculcate a humane practise, a mere half of it is required to ravage a society.
Hate begets hate and if not controlled, the consequences are excruciating. Akin to venom that spreads throughout the body, poisoning each and every part with no discrimination, hate envelopes everything, consuming everyone.
To every genius out there who thinks it is not his or her ground to cover and why should they stand up for George Floyd, let me tell you that it's not him alone you are standing in solidarity with if you do; it's the toxic belief of superiority of the hierarchy that we are up against.
It would've been a case of racial abuse if it wasn't a man in uniform that indulged in the heinous crime, but now it is more. Now it is a conflict with the system, against the oppression of those in power.
For whoever you believe in, for his sake, throw away your toxic optimism, that makes only the rosiness visible. The sky is blue and beautiful but optimism that blindfolds you towards the fact that it used to be more beautiful is calamitous. Don't use the bright side of things to escape from the ugly conundrums that as a matter-of-fact, you should be looking at originally. If you're in a soothing condition doesn't mean everyone is, and also doesn't mean, that you'll always be.
It is a false idea that we are fighting solely for justice. We are, but the greater motif is to not fight for it further, to stop the surge of hate right now. The revolution is not anymore of the fallen ones, they rest in peace, it is ours, as personal as it could be. It is ours to the end; an effort to extinguish the fire, to suck out the venom. ___________________________________________________
There's a hurricane of thoughts that run around my not so perfect mind I build and rebuild the memories of my dream last night over a cup of coffee Black and little burnt ,yet you pat on your back for making it still better than the last one. I sip with a smirk on my lips and lines of regret over my forehead. There is silence on the nights I binge watch a movie and I think of all good reason my life is exactly like the one in the movie, independent freedom and loneliness lying around the pillows of my bed. I dust them each morning , Moaning to the memories they settle back each night with the tears that burst over them.
I sleep over the drunk thoughts that put you together for one last time and all times you decide to company me along the sadness you left me with.
I gently rub my head thinking about them in all possible ways, I put all the sad metaphors that occurred my way on the bad side of my journal, You and I where never meant to be together there. The agony that came along with them,I slipped them down my throat with a handful full of happy songs I sometimes wish to listen. I carefully place the metaphors that stated love and jotted them down the other side of my journal. Carefully I pick all the words that meant happiness and weaved a poem down to you.
You placed them close to your heart and slipped a fire against the paper, Nothing but ashes defined all the love .
You've now replaced the hurricane of unknown thought to your only thoughts. I'll die to your memories Or live with a mind of war.
You have changed. Into someone you never wanted to see and feel. You live that someone now. While watching the sky changing itself into a new shade every new day, you changed yourself. From watching it just because everyone talks about its beauty to staring it as a need, you changed. Do you feel the same now? Do you think of them too now? You just think of them now. You changed your skin. But you wish to preserve the previous one for them. What if they wish to see the previous you again? You don't want to disappoint them. You still can't see them frown because of you. I don't know if should be glad for you. You're a liar. You can't lie. You aren't supposed to. But you don't find it any bad lying to yourself. You do that from time to time. Just because it's easy for you to lie to yourself and not to those who live for your truths. Should I feel bad for you that even you yourself don't care to ask yourself the reason behind all those lies? I'm telling you it's not at all good to find shelter under the roof of lies. Your roof isn't made of paper that'll just blow away with wind. It's made of paper that that gets wet in their rain to such a limit that your own softest touch will tear it apart. How much it takes to wait for the sun to come up again and help you dry your roof? You've stopped crying seeing the wrinkled paper once it is dry. The wrinkles increase in number with every rain and you smile thinking your simple plain paper is soon going to turn into a textured paper. You stopped finding a shoulder to cry on. You're afraid of the feeling that'll be left once the shoulder you cried on is no more with you. And I'm sorry for you don't know if you're own shoulder can carry the weight of your transparent dilute tears. You find wiping your tears yourself easier than waiting for literally no one but someone to do that for you. You move away. As everything gets near you, you move away a bit more. You're afraid if one day the shortest distance between you and anything else will feel like the longest. While moving away from everything, you forgot that you are supposed to get close to yourself. Now you watch everything from far. Seems like it's all good without you. But ever wondered how lost the part of you feel staying away from you? I know you have but you barely care about that part which is now far from your least interested reach. You open a book and trace the words with your fingers. You just can't expect them to feel you. You just can't expect them to read you back. You don't read them now. You watch their form. How they are managing to stay in the same shape and size in any sentence. You wonder how you find them holding a different meaning in each. You wonder what's your meaning. Your heart skips a beat with that full stop at the end of last paragraph. Your heart sanks seeing the other half of the page blank. You fiercely close the book and then open again to memorize the last sentence. But fortunately or unfortunately I don't know, you find a new chapter after that page. You feel like talking to me is a waste. Just like you feel listening to yourself is a waste. If only you let me talk with you and if only you try to talk with yourself. You aren't waste but you are wasted. Always high on emotions. You know you can't handle yourself to that extent but still you deny stopping. You never realized the exact stop. Don't you dare touch me. You've already turned my clean white fur into dark and dirty one. I can never forgive you for that. Just stay away. Away. But don't leave me. Watch me watch you from a distance. I know you aren't like this. You never were like this. I know. I know. I am sorry.