• nocturnal_muse_ 3w

    Pocket full of posies
    A tissue a tissue
    We all fall down!

    Three children burst out in laughter

    The fall was once upon a time funnier

    Now they pick up tissues trying to clean the dirt that always lingers.

    //three different lives//

    1) "wow! You always choose bold colours man!" He heard him getting amused by his choice. He wondered if he would appreciate his love for him too as a bold choice?.
    Covering his rangy legs in denim pants and the leather jacket always on his loose shoulders. His brush would stroke on the canvas what the world named as psychedelic colours. Staring at one of his abstract painting, he was wondering if there is at least one to extract its true meaning?
    The world accepted him as an artist, lover of colours.
    None knew pink remained his favourite pigmentation.
    Why the lips of his art are coloured in Wine when the Men around him partied in bottles of Vat 69.
    There are no mountains in his skies but there are wings without butterflies.
    How he wished the world to see, beyond those rules standing bold and free.
    That, why he dipped his fingers in colours, that they did not discriminate any gender. That they allowed him to flow free. Wear loose his fantasies.
    Colours would accept his love for wild and softness. They would never claim him to be "not enough of man".
    So he added more dark shades in his wardrobe and vivid colours on his canvas. And thus "Covered his love" for the floral fragrance.

    2) your books have arrived, mom announced. She was welcomed by the pile of new books waiting for her in her room. She heard her Dad, talking about the new swimming classes which have started in the neighbourhood. Aghast by the day, she passed out on her bed without changing her uniform. Awoken by the aroma of coffee and " pakora", her mom's magic had enticed her senses. She freshened up and ate the love served. The half knitted embroidery stared at her from across the table. It was already a month, that she had said she will complete it. She needs to focus on her studies first (that's what mom and dad had said).
    She had everything.
    She looked away and went to her balcony. The old lady in the next building was knitting a new sweater today.
    She felt envy encroaching her again.
    "She had everything", she heard saying this to self again.
    She closed the balcony door and begin her studies for the IIT entrance.

    3) The most elder of them all. 9-6 Job was not enough. Back at home, she was always on the run. One sister and a brother, for all of them she was the mother and father. Teaching lessons to her siblings, a job not rendered to her by professionals, was something she really loved. She ensured they learnt well. Her own quest to learn was hindered by that accident that took away their stress busters. Their parents. She had to be what she never was, as there was no other option.
    She groomed herself for the reception. The last night she would see him. After all, she had denied his proposal. She had said, she had "other responsibilities" and couldn't make time for new ventures. He could not wait for an unknown forever. He sent the reception invite which now was lying on her table. Love of her life was getting married to another.
    The next day, the boss at her multinational company continued his sultry looks on her.
    37 and unmarried. That was an invite for all of them after all.

    Her friend asked her at last, the question. "Why?"
    She said. "Compromise".

    /forgive me for a long post. I may not have been able to convey what I wanted to. But that's all//

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    Rooster coop

    First, cage them. The fluttering wings
    came to a dead stop
    The bars of the trap
    were shackles for pain

    Then feed them. Some were too hungry
    To think. Others
    smelled the slow poison
    in grains. They didn't eat

    Lastly, sacrifice Chants were hymned And bleed them Rooster must have
    felt a chill. As it begins
    to crow in panic. It was
    now brought out, from
    It's cage it was freed.
    Held by its neck, hailed
    to the sky. It's eye
    looked at it giving
    its last goodbye.
    A swift move. And
    SILENCE was now aloud.
    Dripped in its own blood
    were its feathers.
    Maybe freed forever


    We all are part of this, the rooster coop,
    We get caged, in pains, responsibilities, limits, rules.
    We get fed, by unasked love, by inherited dreams, by memories that haunt, by fears of untravelled places.
    We get killed, by weight of dreams, unattained wishes, sacrifices we did.

    the stage may differ, ultimately we get sacrificed, some say for the greater good, I say, to be an orthodox's food.

    The title and phrase "rooster coop" is inspired by Arvind Adiga's novel: the white tiger.