There are women
Short skirts
Tight shirts

Leaning on counters
Popping gum
Smiling at every man that passes

Handing lollipops out to girls with braids
Ribbons
And ambitions.

Women who get undressed
Flip hair, don't care
Sliding into passenger seats
Standing on tip-toes to reach

Wear blue on a golden afternoon
Read books "far too complicated"
Eat messy food with unmanicured hands
Who don't belong to you.

There are women

Can't even begin to squeeze
into that tiny size 2 dress
Don't have the time to stress over
How many times a week
A month
A year they shower.

Women that don't even think about the color pink.

There are women
With babies
And menstrual cycles
With short hair
And Harley motorcycles

There are tough women
And strong women
With tattoos
Degrees
Febreze
Who love other women.

There are women that save lives
Who thrive on the idea of being free
"I don't want children"
"Don't need no man"
Who don't like to sing
Don't like to dance

There are women who are loud
Who take tokes
and laugh at jokes
Women with hymens still unbroken
Or reminded of it's absence every single day.

Women who have hair in more places than one.

And there are women who are sad
Who are broken
And angry.
But those same women can be glad
Can be put back together again.

There are women
Who don't know stereotypes
Or how to break them.
And there are women
Who have hips
And know how to shake them.

the divergence of roads
is an illusion
a myth perpetuated
by those who fear solitude
but one who has walked the lonely path
enjoyed all its sights, sounds and sceneries
rested in the shade of its motherly oaks
knows that at last
everything converges
every road, every fellow traveller
every other choice
meets at one
single brilliant point

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   08.02.2013
  Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish,

heart beat hammers as i
appear to study holy
horoscopes over green tea
and grand gestures

i'm sure you've come to
tell me where your
hack sawed heart still
lies, barely beating,
instead i learn of your
new found freedom as
we take our buckets
full of *****, bad habits,
abusive fathers, brazen
moms and bare it all
on the table between
sabre's shots in the
laundromat as i fold
every ******* item of
clothing that i own

i begin to dread the
departure and the
growing space that looms
between us so i ****
you in with the promise
of a six pack and vinyls

satiated for only so long
you find my fresh buzz
and the blank lines between
us vanish, hands on my
head and lips on my neck,
i'm holding on tight, but
it's only a matter of time
until reality escapes me

quick trip down the
slopes and i'm over flowing
with what defines me,
our tempos are timed by
the too fast kits that
hammer in sync in our chests

sun's coming up and
luna's got more than just
moons in her eyes, she
sees me and then looks
beyond me into past lives

i'm reminded what it is
to actually feel something
and the passion is exhilerating
and terrifying as my
numbness is washed away,
wave after wave, in
comfortable silence
******* cigarettes and
slipping through
song after song

Feverish like wicker man

Tough to reach like Mariana

Gorgeous, unsupportive

I would gladly follow you to slaughter

Remember Me With Smiles

When my long journey on earth comes to an end
And the river of tears flow out to the sea
When silence appears like a long lost friend
And time alone replaces the feeling of "we"

Then please recall special times that we shared
And laugh at mistakes that we seldom forgave
Recalling two souls that often lay bared
For our special bond will survive the grave

You are a ******
For happiness

You don't believe me
Do you?

You think, nah,
I'm clean.
Sober, even.

Well, you're wrong.

When you were young,
You got a taste of it.
                                                          Happiness.
And it was pure.
It was innocent.
And it was the best
You've ever ******* felt
In your whole entire life.

It came in many forms.

Sledding with your older brother,
In the mountains of magic
Glittering snow
That you would only grow
To hate
Over the years
The back breaking, black ice
*******
You had to salt and shovel
Weeks on end
Enough to wage a war
With nature

But then, back then,
You were happy with snow.
Maybe even
In love with it.

You got a taste.


Your favorite ice cream bar
Every lick.
Insatiable. Delicious.
The perfect ending
To a gorgeous summer afternoon.
Of course,
As the months peeled away
You'd learn that
Ice cream makes you fat
And sugar is a disease
Before you know any better
You're counting calories
And carbs
And pounds
And inches
And everything becomes
A ******* number
Suddenly you focus so much
On your body
That you lose your soul

But then, back then,
It simply didn't matter.
You were only a kid.
With a sweet tooth.

You got a taste.


Your mother's arms
Warm, welcoming
You could tell her any secret
And she would fight off
Every demon
Chase the closet monsters away
And craft a dream catcher
For all those nightmares
Then the days crack apart
Your calendar flips over the decades
And the woman with the title
Mother
Is nothing more than a stranger
You can't even remember her age
Anymore
Torn apart by trivial fights
Over mall money
And curfews
Mother?
What mother?
You have no mother,
Only a **** with shared DNA.

But then, back then,
It was blissful
Her kisses were the only medicine
You needed

You got a taste.


And now,
You spend your whole life
Searching for the
Glitter in the snow
And the heaven
In the ice cream
And the warmth
In your mother's arms

But
Everything is dull now
But
It's all bad for you
But
Her arms are six feet under

Happiness.
You are a ******
You are addicted

And you will never get your fix

Because all you ever got
Was a taste

Just enough to keep you searching
                                                                   But never satisfied.

                                                     ­                                                       *  You got a taste.

What is a world without being judged?
Without competition or criticizing?
A world where there is no room for improvement
Everything is set in stone, not perfect just you take what you get and deal with it
Where there is no place to showcase your true potential?
No rhyme or reason to try
Less amazing things happen, maybe even nothing spectacular going on
A place doomed for rebellion, implosion
A stack of cards with no foundation, just ready to cave in
A world without love, or feelings
It all dwindles down without one another
One thing could be missing and change it all
And our society would be a soso-ciety

Home,
I’m going home,
Words I hear all the time.
Words that I envy,
Syllabic distress…
Jealousy.
What is home?
For you, it’s the place
You’ve lived for eighteen years.
The place where both parents
Welcome you with open arms.
Laughter
Smiles
Hugs
Kisses
That’s not my life.

What is home?
The place where I moved
When I was thirteen?
A brown shingled roof that hides
Hurt, divorce, a mixed family
That will never get along?
Screaming, yelling, fighting,
Something different every time, and
They wonder why I want to leave

Sweet revenge
To have tasted you
And then your bitter -
Nay, poisonous -
Aftertaste

I don't need to.
I know what that feels like.

Nice for a second, gone for a century,
Scarred for an age.

TWO loves had I. Now both are dead,
And both are marked by tombstones white.
The one stands in the churchyard near,
The other hid from mortal sight.

The name on one all men may read,        
And learn who lies beneath the stone;
The other name is written where
No eyes can read it but my own.

On one I plant a living flower,
And cherish it with loving hands;      
I shun the single withered leaf
That tells me where the other stands.

To that white tombstone on the hill
In summer days I often go;
From this white stone that nearer lies
I turn me with unuttered woe.

O God, I pray, if love must die,
And make no more of life a part,
Let witness be where all can see,
And not within a living heart.