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afteryourimbaud Jan 2021
There were days
when I just know,
that it is not any better
than the last summer
or even the first
day of this year.

if I stay within this
circle of fear,
and waiting for the
blizzard to be out of here.

I will forever remain
a raindrop, instead of thunder.
afteryourimbaud Jan 2021
and tell me
how it feels like
returning to the suburbia
walking past couples
eating chilly popsicles
from each others’ hands
while kids fall on the pavements
not a worry, not a melee
as the first full moon
overlooking us
beyond the double pulses
built at the epicentre
witnessing all of the
wild, harsh river flows
that taught us life
I am not the melodramatic aristocrat
you are the forgetful, envious plutocrat
will you make it through January
when I still linger with December?

you would know that only answer.
afteryourimbaud May 2020
George pleaded for his life
begged to breathe, requested
the continuity of his own existence
before the lynch with a knee
on the commemoration day
of many lives that have burned in vain
violent resistance on detention
a fabrication out of desperation
when all they had was the sick joy
of seeing an innocence in pain
fell silent and motionless
once and for all,
and he too, has burned in vain.

do not let that be a fact.

Eric waits, and now
George too.
In the memory of George Floyd, Eric Garner, Ahmaud Arbery and many.
afteryourimbaud Apr 2020
I am fixing the racetrack
where all the thoughts there
have turned black,

reclaiming my isolated dignity
retraining every part of thoughts
connecting every incomplete dots

which will lead me to the adjacent poles
that are satisfied with their own nature
science taught me nothing but
selective decision and sense of entrapment
whisper to your pillow before
every intentional breath

“am I just a vehicle to every unidentifiable selfishness or am I just living up to my own means?”
afteryourimbaud Apr 2020
the love

is for us to hold in high affinity,
and to be protected like our sanity.
afteryourimbaud May 2019
when you asked me
for the only direction
to the campsite of holy Aurora
I fed you with the temptation
and when you laid the blanket
I made you the bed instead.

I was already underneath the lake,
and I extended my hand to you,
waiting for you to realise
that there is nothing at stake,
and there is no wrong in being true.

when you talked to me
about the fiery, empty sunset
there were devils that linger and smile
I painted clouds and rainbows
for you to be sheltered from
partook in a deep sigh and grows.

you are awakened
by the smell of the brewed coffee
filled with our joy and contentment
you are no longer in a daze
forever buried in the strong aftertaste.

stay within my sight,
and touch me with all your might.
afteryourimbaud Mar 2019
There are lives
that have died and gone to waste,
but there are also lives
that are well-lived yet already gone to waste.
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