Categories
collaboration

A war of Poppies- a collaboration

How to suck color out a rainbow palette? Is it possible for humans?

They always suck the red out of wounds and then blame the flesh for not being enough.

Beauty lies beneath wounds. But humans scrape wounds off shamelessly instead.

If the sky was painted black will it shield the wounded hearts?

Once I saw a poppy field. I didn’t see the sky’s reflection in it. Did sky shield itself from the wounded, red poppies?

I can bring all the green of rainbow to the field, will the grass still be greener on the other side?

People manipulate what’s beautiful for them. If green is brought down, they’ll again scrape it off.

I think poppies are the women, in middle of war among themselves, pushed to be and do better while their  roots are stuck in filthy mud of  “you can’t”.

Red gushes through the field right now. Is it blood? What if poppies sucked blood. What if all this beauty was swathed in blood?

The bleeding hands/people make  half of this world. They defile pride because they bleed.
I wish the world was colorblind but women.

Pride! Pride is anything but woman.

I’ll wear a scarf that’d wrench me if I ever try to favour red with blood. Both are different.

All I think of is women. I’d love to bring Gods, to ask them for shelter but there are no Gods and maps are deviod of safe.

My new graveyard is a poppy field. It bleeds so the sky keeps away from it. No beauty, no God. Hence, oppressed and hence my home.

No matter who rules whom, they sow poppies to see them bleed.

Skies look blue just to prove beauty can’t be red.

Samyak introduced me to dialogue poetry and our rants turned into, this really close to my heart poem.

Image source: Pinterest

Categories
collaboration

//Touch has a memory//

I have been pretty transparent, if you’re really looking.
On my skin, you could see the boy with hazel eyes
with softest curls and the way,
he is touching my skin just by looking,
You can feel the metaphors
running along my hair
to your fingers;
you can sense the memories
curling up your hand.
Will remind you of the last kiss
or I’ll fill your heart with clichés;
you always fall for it.

Let me tell you stories about disasters and disappointment running deep down under my wrist, in my veins;
If you touch me for a bit longer, you’ll be able to sense the thunders;
touches, devastating enough to burn down the entirety.
But there’s nothing scarier than skin that feels nothing at all.

If I tell you,
consent in love is a funny thing
between the flashback of millions of memories and disruptive silence
in your eyes, you’re lost, believe me.
Once you touch,
there are no more may l’s.

And what about the veins under my skin that still tremble
at slightest touch because there are memories buried underneath me.
You look for justifications on my wrist,
all the longer-than-usual touches,
I’m wearing under my sleeves.

I know you’d believe me crying myself to sleep and how miserable the year has been.

But,
would you believe me
If I tell you,
An unwanted touch can send chills down the man’s spine
when you try to pull him closer after every “no”?
There is always a ” be a man” ready to slip from your tongue.
Can you ever forgive yourself in the name of humanity,
in the crowds shouting for justice while you’re the 5/10 culprits;
for stealing a moment that was not yours; thinking a smile to be a consent or never asking for it?
You know there won’t be any going back for him.
If there was a slight voice of complain,
it’s always easy to be a victim than to take responsibilities.
Funny how you always get away when they’re the ones sulking in pain.

And what about when a man tells you he was molested, would you believe him or say, “must’ve been fun?”

Collaboration with Bharath

Categories
collaboration

Things unsaid

Here’s a collaboration with Bharath.Check out his mind.

A bag full of memories
A jar full of tears
Sand in my shoes
Fears up my sleeves.

A mind filled with fears
Voice full of melodies
Eyesight soaking in the hues
I carry down this road.

A world invisible is what I see
The touch I never felt haunts me
The fish never reached the oceans
Is it freedom, to fly like a bird
Over the air
Those stars in the sky
Are they really there?
Getting heavy,
With every turn
And then I see you
Pouring your all, into the blue.

You point to the wall,
I had no clue
We’re in this together
They’re our nightmares.