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 Jan 2014 Aanandha Jeeva
a twenty-six year old woman sits alone outside a coffee shop, waiting
she plays Snake on an old Nokia that was discontinued long ago
her red dread locks are tucked neatly under a worn beanie
that she stole from the boy that she gave her virginity away to
in a skate park when she was nineteen

a twenty-six year old woman sits alone at her desk, writing
she has a one night stand whose name she doesn't remember sleeping in her bed
her mascara is running and her lips are dyed black from henna
that she stole from the girl who offered her shelter when she ran away to live
in her car and dingy motel rooms after college

a twenty-six year old woman sits outside a Stop and Shop, drinking Shasta
she recently tried to publish her book of poems , but it was rejected so:
her shorts barely covered her backside and she wore the bralette
that she stole from her brother's girlfriend while she was visiting
in the false hopes that he would register how badly she needed him (or anyone)

a twenty-six year old woman sits in a little blue rowboat, drilling holes into the bottom
she skims Red Kayak before she leaves home and ties rocks around her ankles
her thoughts are set on mentally regressing the pain of her teenage years
that she wishes she could steal back to at least put some emotion back
into her heart

it'd been better than feeling nothing at all
much later, her ghost watches on quietly:
"Ten years ago, it was today
I never imagined
giving up this way."
 Jan 2014 Aanandha Jeeva
I see you

My skin is on fire
Our inferno will rise
Everlasting desire
Destined to wire
Themselves through the sky
My echoes, your cries

Then I hear you

And your eyes find mine
Your promises unspoken
Still echo in my mind
That no matter the space
No matter the climb
Nothing can break us
If we're together, we're fine
The pain will subside
Scars heal with time
I promised I'd find you
So please do not hide

I have love

An indestructible bind
Passionate by design
Destiny's light
Our realities combine
We dance into the night
No longer wishing
For love to arrive
A work in progress? I felt the imagery could stand out more.
 Dec 2013 Aanandha Jeeva
After too many days
I thought to write a poem
Suddenly wind blowed
The dew drops came
And strike on my face
I saw in the mirror
And found you behind me
I turned back
But there was no one
I went outside
And the trees were shivering
The birds were chirping
I looked at the sky
And there was a guy
who was looking at me
With the love in his eyes
His hair were curly
And he was having a flute
He was playing a rhythm
Oh!...He was so cute
I found all blue
He gave a smile
And it was you
You came to me
I hugged you tight
And you gave me a promise
That you will come
everyday everynight
Although...You are far away from me
But you are the closest to me
Although...we haven't met
But I meet with you after the sunrise and after the sunset
Although...You are far away from me
But you are the closest to me
 Dec 2013 Aanandha Jeeva
I am electric.
All the time I feel it
Sparking just under my skin.
Sometimes it settles like static,
And sometimes it rages like lightning.
But I am always too small for it.
It doesn't live in me
It consumes me
It becomes me.
I feel, therefore I am,
And it is great and terrible.
God was a child,
With a fork in an electrical socket
And I became.
Sometimes someone will try to know it all
Try to be the one who holds all of it
And wonders about nothing.
I have learned that people who try to define me
I have learned that being near me
Pulls emotion from them
And that in my purest form
I am neither good nor bad
But I am most certainly
Electricity doesn't discriminate
It flows.
It's easy to be too much
When there's no end to you.
Slowly, I learned to step back,
To pull away.
There is not a little shame in knowing you can fry someone
By accident.
But no matter what,
I will make your hair stand up.
I don't mangle people,
But I at least leave them with a distinct feeling of strangeness,
Like having the tree right across the yard from you get struck by lightning
And feeling the hum.
It is a fascinating, unsettling, addictive feeling,
And I've seen people lust for it
And I've seen them flee from it
I've held back my fingertips
Unwilling to make them stay by shock treatment.
I have met people who were
Walking dead
And I have shoved them backward
With both hands
And heard a heartbeat restart.
I have met people who reached for me
Like a child for the hot element on a stovetop
And found exactly the same surprise and pain.
I have known people who
Stand close enough to singe their hair
And hold their palms up to thaw something inside them
That has gone cold as ice.
And I have known people whose fingertips
Drew all the lightning to them
And left glorious, hot scars on my skin
Handprints that never cool.
I have short circuited
Looking into eyes that pulled every molecule of me
Into my beating heart and made me a dying star
Folding in on myself.
I come with a warning label
Because I shout hazard signs
To anyone who will listen.
I try to be gentle
But being high voltage is as much a high
As it is a burden.
I can **** or resurrect, depending only on the direction of the wind that day.
I can light you up
Or I can ******* you
And I don't ever know which it will be.
I am so alive that I can't hold it in,
And I am so chaotic that it's like a disease.
I am electric.
She was pretty.
Scratch that.
She was beautiful.
Scratch that too.

She was more beautiful,
Than a sunrise on a winter morning.
Or a rainfall on an autumn day
Where the leaves dance in the wind
And fill the sky with life.
More beautiful than a flower
That breaks through the cracks
Of a concrete garden
And brings color to the air.
She was more beautiful,
Than any poem that's ever been written.

She was beautiful.
Scratch that.
She still is.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
©Sebastian @
When I was little
I would stare up at
My mother and think to myself
That's what I want to be when I grow up

I wanted nothing more than
To become my mother
Who tucked me in
Kissed my scrapes

Who nurtured me
Brought me water when I was
Sick and sang me to sleep
And who told me how strong I was

Little did I know
That moms are dished out
Their own servings of problems
But my mom was different

She was served piles of
Left overs and week old bread
Water unfit for a dog
And dessert was scarce

Later I learned I was the dessert
So was my father
Though he was more sour than others
She didn't care, she loved it all

But as I've grown older
The piles of unfit food
Are tumbling down
Right on top of me

My mother's food labeled
Bipolar, depression
Anxiety, self harm
Body image issues and so much more

More than one person should
Be dished up, more than
One person can stomach
Too much for the plate to handle

The plate is cracked, chipped
Used, with a residue still blanketed over
And we've learned our eyes are bigger than
Our stomachs and we attempt the plate alone

But you can't handle a full course meal
If you're stomach is so small

I've learned that even though
Doctors label my mother
Crazy and unstable
I still crave to be her

Because she's survived through
What seems like everything
And she is not only alive
But my mother is living

Maybe not the way she imagined
But she still tries to make
The best of each day
She does so much with so little

Yes, I still want to be my mother
I want to be strong and brave
Kind and nurturing
I want to be everything she thinks she isn't

Because she is my everything
I love you, mommy.
 Dec 2013 Aanandha Jeeva
This life is such a mystery
There's so much in sight that we don't see
Sometimes I wonder what's my purpose on this earth
Life can be such a mirth
As if the joy that welcomes birth

This life is complete actuality
We know who we are but not what be may be
Pressure is passion's poison and we get a dose of it everyday
But life is about living for today
You have to take chances or your life will never change
You can't direct the winds but you sure can adjust the sails

This life can be tricky, try not to be compelled
Opportunity never knocks twice but there is always the doorbell
You can never forget but always forgive
Cause the past has a way of holding you captive
Ability can get you far but it takes character to keep you there
Nature can be so cruel, predators are everywhere

This life has so many dimensions
Or maybe it's just a battle of perception
But what we think is not what we always see
Our expectations are so different from reality
But optimism is like the sun and doubt is the rain
Life is only beautiful for those who know how to celebrate the pain.
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