We hope you enjoy your stay,
And please feel free to be yourself,
As long as it’s in the right way,
Make sure you love your body,
Not too much or we’ll tear you down.
We’ll bully you for smiling,
And then wonder why you frown,
We’ll tell you that you’re worthless,
That you shouldn’t make a sound,
And then cry with all the others,
As you’re buried in the ground,
You can fall in love with anyone,
As long as it’s who we choose.
And we’ll let you have your opinions,
But please shape them to our views,
Welcome to society
We promise that we won’t decieve,
And one more rule now that you’re here,
There’s no way you can leave…..!

absurd how life's turning into Instagram
flashbacks achieved in heart
overriding from delete
excite to show smiles out
baring painful dms in quite
long-distance short
will for reels of impermanent
everyday searching to deal with a story
and expecting a life of no worry!

it as if we disappeared
our hands never making it past the hanging  veil
voices muffled by cloth
20 arms stretched forth holding in a cry
worker’s limbs, your daughter or sister
racing heart when they shouted out of pain
they could no longer stand

When labor too pressing too demanding stood in front of them a well dressed  smooth talker and asked politely for just one of their fingers
they again screamed

winding winds weave patterns in my chest
a soft flower like a cloud up my throat
ehem ehem
a clicking swallow: a pinecone slides down
hitting a trembling trampoline stomach, and bouncing
like marble about

a cotton sparrow pecking somewhere everywhere
with its little blue beak of bead
ehem ehem
eye meets eye and eye eye
and winds bloom by, stirring the sky and
low bronze brooding grass, as
leaf leaf leaf laces down, down glittering slow
stumbling midair, stumbling in rays sneaking in through brown
stumbling like lost bee in a pathway of gold

then settling down light as a kiss, as a
curling of lashes on the parapet of eye

I had some tickling words—

velvet quilt round a tongue of damp wood
a tick of skin and tendon and beat
as all the gears in me lock in place
open the mechanical gates and out
the stuttering sparrow, small
with its wobbly chirp that, practiced, perfected,
spills still plaintive in the silence of stone

‘do you have an— an a scale?’


‘thanks—’

oh mY JASM—

We all have the ability to suffer
when it comes to love.
We all have the ability to get the pain when expectations run away from our brain.
The reality always hits you.
And here I am in.
So let's get all of them create you become an art.
This poem may not get you
but it is better to share with you.
You may not realize who you are now,
until someone tells you,
someone that you didn't know before;
the strangers in your mind.

Universe is a slowly burning candle.