I stare into the mirror
To see what I can see
The image draws me nearer
I don’t know, if it’s me

I touch to understand
Sense coldness to reflection
It sends through me a shiver
Must mean, my own rejection
BOEMS BY JA 417

I didn’t cry when you left
Neither did I say anything to anyone
I just kept quiet for a few days

But, I've observed everything
And suffered even more

That blue shirt,
Which you often used to wear
Is ironed and arranged
in the wooden closet

Your specs are still kept
on the television..
And the umbrella ..
waiting for the rainy season..

In The last rains
We were soaked and drenched
I did not touch your umbrella ..
I know,
That you do not like
If  your things are misplaced

I’ve told the cobbler
To mend your old shoe
Your watch is repaired
With a battery brand new

Taylor has stitched your pants
With a lining inside
And
Your bed is done
And mom waiting by its side.

Dad ....
I know
You will be tired by the journey
But this time,
Please stand still
And Rest for some time
I will take off your shoes
And massage your legs
To make you de-stress
Whatever you’ll say
I'll do it all
Just stand still
And be there

You know what dad ...
The last time you left ..
You left us shocked...

Ananya

A ghost town stands in the Eastern Sierra
just up the road from ancient Mono Lake
A long dirt road, you have to take

Now a dead mining town with its buildings
still intact,
There were riches everywhere,
once it boomed and roared.
The bad man from Bodie, he was once called.

But between the winters,
the end of timber,
the mines ran dry
a killing every night,
There is silence now,
All those riches returned to sand.

Oh, America,

It's the killings
everyday
every night.

Where America, I ask of thee
Where America, does all this violence breed?
So many on the ground to bleed.

42,000 shot
and still counting
killings everyday
killings every night.

America
oh America
Where does it come from
all of this rage?

Frustration
Anger
Cold blooded eyes

Harsh life
in the boom town
Hard to get it right?

The Old West
is
the New West
life is short and desperate

Another shot rings out in the night.

We're all dancing as fast as we can
or in the can
numbed out by alcohol, speed and ******,
eyes buried deep inside electronics.
Anything to make it all right
as the walls close in.

Depression they say
is violence and homicide
turned inwards instead.

The Old West had the Civil War
The New West has its
endless wars

here we go again.

We're all alone
in this world
that's for sure.

It hurts my heart
to hear her say,
"Goodbye God, we're going to the old USA"

I chose feminism because I believe in equality between genders.
because I’m against gender roles, men who need a woman to get their **** done are not “cute” and are nothing but spoiled little brats.
because my virginity, my body hair and how I dress up are none of your business.
I chose feminism because I’m not a *** machine nor a baby producer I value much much more than that.
because I don’t need a man to validate my self worth, I already know what I’m worth.
because in some countries ***** women are forced to spend the rest of their life under the same roof as their assaulter.
I chose feminism because a woman who speak up and raise her voice is a ***** .
because in my city a woman was beaten by her husband the night of their wedding because she didn’t “bleed” in the *******.
I chose to speak up because an 8 year old Yemeni girl died of internal injuries at the hands of 40 year old husband on their wedding night.
because ****** is not a ***** word and my periods are not disgusting.
because more women need to speak up and speak for their rights
I chose feminism and everyone should do the same .

I was contemplating life
When it occurred to me
That nothing in our lives
Means as much as we

No matter good or bad
Or what it was we had
In time, it just becomes
Another memory

We instinctively move on
To new things we are drawn
And the happiness or hurt
Becomes for us, the key

That decides what we do next
And thus our life affects
As we progress from here to there
And so, defines what we shall be
BOEMS BY JA 105

She still is the greenest tree in absence,
              in my land of obliterated dreams,
the golden fruit my heart desired,
              still hangs there, a phantom limb,
my mind hibernates,under the shade of
                   the banyan tree of renunciation,
still my battle is fierce,Buddha path
                  or tempting fruit of unquiet desires.



ബോധി വൃക്ഷത്തിലെ കാമഫലം

എൻറെ മായ്ച്ചുകളഞ്ഞ സ്വപനങ്ങളുടെ ഭുമിയിൽ
അഭാവത്തിലും പച്ചച്ച മരമാണവൾ
എന്റെ ഹൃദയം  മോഹിച്ച സുവർണഫലം
ഒരു 'ഭൂതാവയവം'പോലെ അതിൽ
ഇപ്പോഴും തൂങ്ങിക്കിടക്കുന്നു !
നിരാസത്തിന്റെ ആൽമരത്തണലിൽ
എന്റെ മനസ് ഹേമന്തനിദ്രയിൽ.
ഇ പ്പോഴും എന്റെ പോര് തുടരുന്നു ;
ബുദ്ധ പാദം പിന്തുടരുകയോ ,
അശാന്ത മോഹങ്ങളെ തേടിച്ചെന്നു പുണരുകയോ?
(MALAYALAM translation)