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Saanvi 1d
Empty letters
erase my sin
and my shame
on a piece of blank paper.
Hollow words try their best
to redeem my former glory.
I sent you an envelope
with an empty letter inside.
There were no words written
but the blank sheet had captured my tears.
That's why it was wet and smooth with no ink.
The ink would have been washed out by my teardrops.
So I wrote nothing on it,
And let the empty letter
stand alone on its weight.
As a testament,
As a silent apology.
Do not be mad at me for this
because words can still be empty letters
if not filled with the right feeling.
And an empty letter can hold within it a thousand regrets,
If carved with shame filled teardrops.
Empty Letters try their best to display my pain
  Nov 28 Saanvi
guy scutellaro
the best fishing trip to the cabin
and we never went fishing,

a torrential down pour.

it rained for 3 days, the electricity

went out and we had charcoal, barbecued
on the porch.

a candle and a lantern.
there were batteries and a radio.

we smoked a joint,
drank beer and we talked
about the the stars
and the care and release of fish.

listened to music...


...an hour before sunrise
I took my fishing pole
and headed down to the river
where the ripples and rapids
mimic modern life

sunrise lit the sky on fire
and slowly off the river the mist rose

mingled into sky

and I spread my brother's ashes in the river
and every river flows to the sea.

(love you, Dean)
Saanvi Nov 25
The look in your eyes was tantalizing
Your lips were moist like morning dew
Your hands were trembling like thunder
Your hair were soft like strands of sand
And I was transfixed by your beauty.
I am so happy that I call you my lover
I could hold you in all our lifetimes.
I would wipe your tears as they fall like autumn leaves.
Truth be told, I find your touch so Catastrophic.
When you trace your fingers against my jaw,
my body melts into your touch.
Lovers in a dying flame,
I want to take you all before I perish.
Darling, the wounds you gave me are Catastrophic.
Love is inherently destructive....
Saanvi Nov 24
Your hands have been crafted
by a rare and delicate melody.
One that sweeps me completely and raptures my affection,
Such charming beauty you possess my love.
I bring my disgraceful lips
to your merciless fingers,
that left imprints on my neck earlier.
Your demeanor is that of a white swan
sparkling in an illusory lake.
As I step inside deep water to try
to reach your magnificent being.
It's not the flames of indifference that burn my soul,
rather your casual wit and coy smiles.
Pretentious laughter as if you actually care.
The lake is now suffocating my lungs.
The cool waves strike my weeping skin,
so opposite to your firing touch.
This is what you wanted from the very beginning my love.
Now, don't bestow me your unreachable pity.
In my dying moments, even your shadow did not grace me with its presence.
Now that I am completely lost in your maze,
I want to ask you in this haze.
Are you now joyous my love?
Are you now satisfied?
Are you celebrating the fortune of my perish?
You don't have any blood on your hands,
I have killed myself over this love.
You are still the white swan, mesmerizing all with your innocence.
And I am here at the bottom of the lake,
Drowning in helpless awareness, unaware of the extent of your cruelty.
The warm blue hues silently shut my eyes,
gifting me more peace than you ever could.
The real misfortune is that even in my last breath, I could only take your name.
I have only ever known your love.
I have only ever known your cruelty.
I don't mind the loneliness.
I don't mind the helplessness.
I just craved belongingness.
I just wish that the white swan herself would have drained me of life by kissing my lips.
When the light of life was finally replaced by miserable darkness, all I could do was reach out to hold your hand.
Your hands have been crafted by a rare and delicate melody....
Saanvi Nov 12
Today I saw brown mountain peaks touching the sky and what a grand sight it was,
As I was humbled by the silence of greatness that doesn't need to shout.
As I was mystified by the rolling valleys beneath.
The mountains, so eerily vast and huge made me feel nervous about my silly human apprehensions.
Time has tested the fate of these mountains, their  peaks still don't bend to anyone.
An eagle flew between these great walls, as if taking a casual evening stroll.
I wonder if the bird admires the beauty in the stillness of these earthly structures.
I wish I could be the eagle, flying as high as the top of the hills, as if conversing and chatting with them.
The mountains are obviously not made of smooth rocks and unmarked skin,
Their surface and body have stories to tell.
If you notice, there are rocks on the mountain chest making a pattern just like ocean waves, creating a painting upon a painting of God.
The limestone that flows so easily on the back of the mountain, like beautiful hair let down.
And the curves on top, the bends on its peak,
The mountain is not a triangle.
It's a woman sleeping peacefully,
Do not disturb her,
For she is She is mother Nature...
She embodies the mountain spirit and has great power.
Do not disturb her,
For she is our mother Earth.
Soon, light gets stolen from the blue skies
As stars come to their job shift, it's now their time to shine.
When the moon rises behind the mountain peaks, the cosmic body feels smaller than the hills.
It becomes the cherry on top of the cake,
It becomes the eye of the mountain.
As the hills breathe and rest,
The soil beneath  ever shifting and changing.
The mountains have been crafted over a thousand of years through storms and rain and dust and water.
A thousand years after I die, the mountains will still be there.
Brown peaks touching the sky,
Undefeated and unconquered.
And I will be the eagle flying between the mountain peaks.
And I will be the eagle flying between across the mountain peaks.....
Saanvi Nov 7
I met a girl
On the Highway To Hell.
She looked just like me.
Her skin was porcelain,
Her eyes were sunken deep.
Alibi Alibi...
Why don't you become my alibi?
You look just like me,
You can wear that fake smile better than me.
Take my place,
Let me breathe.
You make me feel safe.
So you can be the perfect girl,
For them, I don't mind.
Even though you are not real love,
As in you are totally fake.
Your laugh is so hollow,
Your lips are blue.
You are hanging to the last thread of life
just like me.
But you can wear that fake smile better
than me.
You saved my life,
You kept me warm.
You took my name,
When it was too heavy to carry my pain.
Alibi Alibi.....
Why have you become my Alibi?
Now I can't throw you off my love.
You are a copycat,
Just give my old self back.
Even though she was sick,
And you were her partner in crime.
Alibi Alibi....
Why did you take my life?
I guess I just wanted to be someone,
But I don't wanna be you.
I don't wanna be you.
You are so miserable,
And so am I.
I am a face with no features. I can slip in and camouflaged anywhere. It is both a good and bad thing.
Saanvi Nov 3
I will make films when I grow up. I will descend to madness when I grow up. I will give up when I grow up. I will travel the world when I grow up. I will call you when I grow up. I will fall in love when I grow up. I will create art when I grow up. I will run away to the woods when I grow up. I will cry when I grow up. All humanity has is art and grief. Don't let the art die or the grief perish. Underneath the sky of a thousand stars, we have made a home for ourselves. Poetry and music sustain our wounded souls. Don't let them die a million deaths like innocent men and women killed by innocent men and women. In the blank space of the universe, we all are equal. The hated and the hater are alike in status, imprisoned by false cages of philosophy, a quest long drawn since ancient times, searching for it in urban cityscapes. Cities where nobody cares to know your name, where we are trampled by the crowds. This is the home we have made for ourselves underneath the blanket of a thousand stars. There is no meaning in suffering. We suffer because we search for meaning. All our lives we try to get out of the prison only to be stuck in another prison. In between, moments of light. In between chaos, moments of calm. In between, moments of creation. Humans are art and yet so ugly. Humans are stardust yet their face belongs in the mud. Humans are so capable but so ruthless. Cities where freedom exists in the air. Houses side by side. Autumn shades. Haunted blues. Nostalgia. Music of the soul. What are we? What have we become? A million memories have created my body. A million imprints on my body. Run boy, run to the land of free. Run to the heavens for you have been lied to for your entire life. A life devoid of passion is meaningless. And passion must not be searched in empty spaces of human settlements rather the art our generations have left and will leave for all to see. Art is all that we have as a reflection of ourselves. Art is the proof that we existed and so did our restless hearts and passions. So many of us on this planet we call our home yet we still don't know the meaning of beauty, love or being human. So distracted we have become. Look for passion within. When you try to end your life, your suffering will hold you back. You hate your life yet it will save you. There are giant trees reaching to the sky and barren deserts filled with solitude and galaxies beyond comprehension and mountain peaks we haven't reached. The world is our oyster. It is us. It is the universe breathing in different forms. You are the spirit of the river, the resilience of the mountain and the branch of the tree. All life is connected. All life is suffering. Yet this suffering I enjoy. All that happens in life is life. All grief and love and passion and madness and anger and rage and excitement are akin to the throbbing ocean waves, the thunderstorm painting the sky, the mountain snow being melted. You and me, humanity and art are but one spirit, lost in space trying to reach out to each other, trying to find love in chaos, beauty in ugliness, peace in destruction. War is what gives me the most pain. To **** your own species is foolishness. The pain that she feels, I feel and that's why I must stand up for my fellow human beings. When a tree is uprooted from its home, I feel it's pain. The answer is to feel the suffering. Don't run away from it. Feel the passion. Feel the pain. Feel the magic. You and me, humanity and art are but one spirit, lost in space trying to reach out to each other, trying to love all that is and all that isn't.
An ode to art in all its forms...
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