Do not love me, if appearance entertains thee;
For they are deceptive like an illusion,
Hoodwinking the multitude with splendor,
But inside the core may lie darkness.
Love me, for thou love me
And let that be the reason of your love.
Close thy eyes and stare at me,
Thou shalt see more attractiveness
Than thou shall ever observe.
If thy adoration be proper and genuine
Why is that appearance
matters so much?
This virtual world
expects us to be perfect.
And if we are not,
we just tend to
But why can't we judge
through the soul?
why is that our senses are
so accustomed outwardly
rather than peeping inside
Within the creases that
outline your eyes,
I can see
traces of the things
that have made you smile.
In the hearty whistle
that is the gunshot of your laugh,
I can taste the places you have lived.
In the wrinkles
in the palms of your hands,
I can feel
the happy you have
tried to spread in the world.
In the sighs
that you whisper at night,
I hear your successes,
the dreams you have lived,
your setbacks reconciled
before the close of the day.
The scent of your skin
and all that is good
and tatters in your clothing
to your honest attempts
to stay true to you.
The gentle strength
with which you hold me
of your intentions
and the tales
of your own past bruises.
My mind searches for these words
so I can tell you in my way
that my soul sees you.
I see where you've been,
what you will do -
I see your errors as well as your winnings.
I see your flaws as well as your excellence.
I hear the shame in your voice
when you admit a mistake.
But my soul,
it still cries out for you.
Despite anything you've done,
I see you,
and I love you.
Just between you and me, clowns…are extremely creepy. And whoever decided that clowns were funny and appropriate for children….. Just noooo.
But even though I hate clowns, I’ve seemed to become one. My red smile on a white coat of paint that is my face.
I didn’t always look like this. I used to look like you. But now I have this, A red painted frown plastered on my face and guess what?!
It’s stuck there.
This is not the kind of make up you can just wash off, scrubbing the skin until it start to bleed and I can’t take the pain anymore.
And I don’t just mean the physical pain. I tried to paint another colour onto my skin, I tried to cover it up but I can’t. People still see it, they ask about it as if it bothers them more than it bothers me.
Yes! Of course! Eyes up here remember? Stop staring at it. Don’t ask me about it, it’s been there for too long…
My clown face can scare people. Do I look like a scary person to you? Is there a reason why children are afraid of me? There is still a person underneath this face paint, underneath this skin.
And people say clowns are supposed to be funny, no wonder people find my face so easy to laugh at.
Come on! Tell me it’s funny, TO MY FACE. I dare you, tell me exactly what it is, and why it’s so funny. I can laugh at it too you know, because I’m supposed to. I’m supposed to just laugh it off.
At the end of the day, I decided to visit the house of mirrors. I walk down the hallway mirrors on both sides and I stop in front of each one and stare at myself in the mirror.
I’m not happy with what I see in it. I’m not content with it, I am not okay with this image being forever, I don’t want this to be me forever.
So, one day, I will find a mirror that doesn’t show me like this, and it exist in people’s eyes, these mirrors exist in the people who see me the way I should see myself. So when I look into the eyes of my friends and family, I can see myself, and I don’t look like this.
One day, I’ll find a way to get this red frown off of my face one day I tell myself.
One day, I’ll stop being a clown…. And I’ll start being me again.
There was a flower, blossoming on the shoreline. Beholding the serenity of the seas and criticising the rise and fall of the indomitable tides.
It swayed in the balmy air and loathed the dusty storms.
It adored the sun's radiance and mourned the moon's norms.
It extolled the aesthetics and execrated the wrongs.
It denied the nectar but appreciated the honeycomb.
There was a peyote, living in the dreary sands. Mesmerized by the great dunes, standing like a tomb.
Relishing the scanty rains with much aplomb.
It grows its roots in the search of water, many call it a coxcomb.
Such is the folk, unaware of the real beauty for so long!
- Swasti Jain
I am melting into a dream of tangerines;
Falling, passing the branches of citrus blossoms that once were.
I land on a rigid peel,
the brightest orange in the colored pencil set.
There are indents in the skin,
depressions, each belonging to a different story,
this tangerine has been through a lot.
From a young bud,
to a ripe fruit,
it has grown.
Do not make the mistake of calling it an orange, or a clementine,
it is not.
It is a tangerine.
Peeling it almost sounds like a symphony.
Inch by inch, the orchestral rhythm plays off,
until you are slicing it, accidentally rupturing it’s walls,
in that moment, it sounds like a little boy, who doesn’t quite understand why it’s encouraged to chew with your mouth closed.
each segment of it looks like half a pair of healthy lungs,
pure, and fresh.
It is a surprise when you bite into it.
Realize, the prettiest things are not always the sweetest,
they can be a little tangy, a little sour.
The taste bouncing off the inside of your mouth like it is a trampoline.
Realize, it is a tangerine;
from a young bud,
to a ripe fruit,
it has grown.
If only your skin was a lighter shade
Here, this bleach might come to your aid
If only your lips weren't so full
Maybe the boys would like you at school
If only your hair wasn't so kinky
Here's some caustic chemicals to make it more slinky
If only your breasts weren't so large
Here's the number to a surgeon, call and see what they charge
If only your waist was smaller (just a few inches)
Here's a corset, see how tiny it cinches?
If only your ass wasn't so round
How 'bout you run some laps to lose a few pounds?
If only you'd get your nose out of books
I bet you'd garner more stares for your looks
If only you'd change your curious personality
I hear the masses prefer banality
If only you'd see me for me
Do you know how content I'd be?
If you can't do that
Then leave me be.
Advertisements are fake
For not even a purebred skinny
Looks like that
With kneecaps the size of a penny
It's all fake
Everyone is cropping
Everything they can
To get that picture popping
An employee yells
And there go her thighs
Another one screams
So say goodbye to brown eyes
Oh? They heard you liked your curly black hair
But, we all know that Barbie's is blonde and straight
So replace yours
Or else you'll never find a mate
Conform to society's ways
And no harm will come to you
But if you decide to "Be Yourself"
We'll take that as our cue
To fight against you
Until there's nothing of you left to cease
We'll say thank you for playing our little game,
So sorry you had to leave