Sadly , most of the kibitzers are the houseflies sticking randomly to anyone unlike a few who genuinely drown in the worries of others.
Stick girl embering,
Molten toffee trail.
'We discovered that one of the strongest links among us was questions about the morality
of what we do: when do
you press the shutter release
and when do you cease
being a photographer?'
- Greg Marinovich, The Bang-Bang Club: Snapshots from a Hidden War
They tell me to stick to my roots
because roots lead up to shoots.
They tell me to stick to my origin
unaware of how it acts as a prison,
My roots are Draupadi's hair that was twisted and lugged,
my roots are Panchali's saree that was tugged.
My roots are Sita's wrist Ravana wrested,
my roots are where Ahalya's chastity rested.
My roots are parasites that eat up its own herb and ****,
my roots are rat snakes that eat up its own tissue and meat.
My roots are flames of fire that created and watered the plant of Sati,
my roots are pools of blood and long ropes that drowned and hanged LaxmiBai and Moolmati.
My roots are the dish misogyny flavoured with patriarchy,
my roots are naked streams of Ganga washing off their lynching and anarchy.
My roots are all the poison Shiva drank during the churning of the sea,
my roots are Dhritrashtra's aspirations and ambiguity.
My roots are its own herbivore,
my roots are the lava that burns its own floor.
And my roots are my flesh and bone,
so I am stitched to my roots altogether, all alone.
So as I cut my own roots, my roots chop me,
hence I stick to my roots while my roots remain free.
Stick to whatever,
She told me.
Get it wrong, right
Or do not.
Flee to your scarier
One that is easy
Within and without,
Stan the unpardoned
Having it all
Given to you,
Trophies in pain
None of them **** you,
I don't mind the way things are
I have some new friends
We're smiling again
Things are better for me
Life keeps moving
Staying isn't so bad after all.
it’s my fault really
I gave you the sticks
Taught you how to throw the stones
and you broke me .
sticks and stones
have broken my bones
but your words
this sport is played
at a leisurely pace
no-one playing it ever
seems to be in a race
some are good
at the short game
whilst others are better
at the long
during the tournament
strokes will be calculated
to make sure the score
isn't deflated or overrated
what stick shall
on the course's
oh the ball has just landed
in the thick vegetation
it scattered the birdies
which were sitting on its plantation
Sticks and stones may break my bones
But words can never hurt me
Words can't break my bones
But they sure can
Break my heart
hey, do ya
could break me
off a piece
I can stop at just one about like I can eat just one slice of bacon...
**** ain't happenin'