SaWal 6h
इज़्ज़त की बात वो न करें जिन्हे शर्म का ही अता पता नहीं..
धर्म की बात वो न करें जिन्हे कर्म का ही अता पता नहीं..
इंसाफ तो 'उनका' तब होगा जब 'हम में' बदलाव होगा
ज़ख्म की बात उनसे क्या करें जिन्हे मरहम का ही अता पता नहीं |
Justice for Aruna Shanbaug, Jyoti, Asifa, Unnao, Shakti Mills.. my heart aches for the fact that the list is infinte.
We need to treat our women exceptionally.
We need to make them feel safe and respected.
Constitutional rights of both Men and Women need to be revisited and women must be given certain special privileges over men unconditionally.
On an individual level, Change in mindset of men is the remedy in the long term.

Humanity is a bird and if 'he' is one of the wings.. 'she' is the other one and the bird cannot fly without both its wings.
STOP VIOLENCE AGAINST WOMEN AND CHILDREN.
words cut deep;
you were my anaesthesia.

then, you wore off;
i died under the knife.
Times have changed,

We are no longer meek, little girls hiding behind our knight in shining armor to defeat our enemy,

Sometimes we have to fight for our knight with swords in our pretty, delicate, soft hands,

But more often, we have to fight for ourselves, our honor, our life, our dignity,

Our little hands might shake, our eyes might water, our hearts might stop beating, but we should not stop the fire burning inside us,

We must step ahead for us, for every woman who has suffered, for every unborn girl who will be inspired by us someday,

If we don’t fight today, that girl might never be born, she needs to be born, she needs to hear our story, she needs us,
So, fight!
when i got home that night

- three-hundred and sixty-five days

prior to writing this,
i’d spent exactly

- forty-five minutes

drinking.
i’d left the house at

- eight-thirty pm

and planned to spend about

- three and a half-hours

shooting the shit with old friends
while pretending i was okay.
instead, i downed

- three double-shots of vodka and lemonade
- three double-shots of malibu and coke
- 2 shots of amaretto and coke
- and one pint of beer.

and after those forty five minutes,
my friend spent about

- twenty minutes

dragging me home.
it took

- two-and-a-half minutes

to explain to her that i’d been ill.
very ill.
and that really, i still was
very ill.
and it took

- two-point-five seconds

for her to ignore me.
when I got home that night

- three-hundred and sixty-five days

prior to writing this,
i spent about

- one hour

throwing up through my mouth.
and through my nose.

- two eyes
- one t-shirt
- one toilet bowl
- one bedsheet

soaked in tears, mascara and vomit
TW: mental illness
he holds the sun.
i know this because
he emits a piece of it’s shine
towards me every day.
it’s in his smile
when he hasn’t seen me in a while;
it’s in the warmth of his skin,
holding me from within -
i look up to him
-blinding-
always shining
although occasionally clouded
from view;
he is my one constant.
the grandest star in the sky.
for my love.
don't find a boy who looks
at you the way he looks
at the stars hanging in
the sky or the waves
crashing on the
shoreline at sunrise

find a boy who looks
at you the way he looks
at a lightning storm
in awe and respect that
a man cannot keep a
force of nature for himself
copyright 4/21/18 b. e. mccomb
Magnus 5d
I'm hurt

I'm hurt
I'm hurt

I'm hurt
Because I just realized

You were hurt
By someone that didn't deserve you
By someone that didn't respect you
By someone that didn't see your beauty

By someone that didn't appreciate you

All your grandeur, he didn't see
And that was your cue

I'm hurt because
When you were hurt

The only way you saw healing

Was by masking your hurt
Not caring who you gave yourself to...
What you gave of yourself
To all that fitted the shoe

So you stacked them up
In the hideous name of "not catching feelings"

You let them do as they wish
Touch you as they saw fit
I'm not saying there is one without blemish
But how can this pass without anguish
When one is truly supposed to love you
To see a queen live like a peasant.
And not cry to sleep in anguish,
When they're in awe of the queen within.

So many have grappled
On this emerald
That you became numb.

Can you even feel that?
My warm hand on your heart.

You say it was about keeping Her happy
How true is that?
How happy was Kylie?
How long did you keep her happy for?
How long did your satisfaction last for?

He dug a hole
You tried to fill it with sinking sand
Now whoever dares to tread
Is actually walking on a thin thread
Slowly slipping
Into the hole you didn't make whole

You sing "men are trash"
As if they are the ones you didn't give Kylie to.
I'm sorry if this is coming off too harsh
Because I want to love Kylie too.
But you gave her away
Turned a blind eye

Put conviction in your reason,

Camouflaged the tears,
Like putting sunglasses on blind eyes.

You sing "men are trash"
"Men ain't shit"

Yes, we make the lyrics
But sometimes women play the instruments

And this, some horrific genre

That we play on social media...

And parties

That we enjoy
With a little bit of intoxication
We enjoy the band play
With a few likes and DMs
We enjoy the band play

You sing "men are trash",
You tell me I'm trash.

When all I'm here for is to love you,

To truly love you of a few.

Not for a motel night's crash
But for a home.
Not for a bottle and some musical trash
But for some Shiraz, soulful indie music and romantic dancing in the dark.
Not to take advantage of Kylie

But to love her too.

You tried to heal
But you didn't.
And I see your beauty
I appreciate you
I respect you...
I see how special you are
How magnificent your mind and soul are.
Your glimmering smile
Your astronomical eyes
All that grandeur,
I see it.

I relish it.

I'm hurt
Because you're still hurt.

I feel like I'm sinking
And you're watching me
Like it's fine because this is the farthest anyone has come in this sinking sand

I want to love you.
I'm trying to love you.
But the hurt you let define you.
Is now veiling what I harbour for you

I'm hurt
Because I want you to stop hurting.
And to help you
I must help myself...
So that I can lift this veil.
For together we can take control of the helm;
Enabling what is meant to be,
Be.
blood under nails,
skin dripping with ferocity,
this is how we survive in a world hellbent on destroying us.
the world is cruel in a way we never get used to.
our bones shake inside of us like an earthquake,
trees fall under our skin, houses collapse.
we are accustomed to this sort of destruction,
the kind where we are reborn like phoenixes out of the rubble,
vulnerable but anew.
our bodies are graveyards for the ghosts of who we once were.
thats just how the world is,
killing the parts of us it doesn’t like until we are left hollow.
a little something i found deep in the depths of the files of my laptop
The type of woman you walk away from backwards.
Is it deceit of joking straight razors,
that disallow the credit of back turned.
Can it be fear, or more. Evermore.
When the apple of your eye is objectified,
and heavy beneath weight of jackboots.
On svelte necks, curled spines. Stomped,
into tombs of sealed off lives.
No, fear is for quarrels as she escapes,
into arms of lovelier thoughts; sour grapes.

For her the callouses of hand are rougher hewn,
from dawnbreak for dusk's sake, a softer sigh.
And when the parting of porcelain, as quiver thigh
entices marble into franchise.
Is this the movement they call a swoon?
If backwards is as turned as steps deplete in Doppler fashion.
Eyes heavied in beckoned hitherto; bosom's flaming passion.

When gaze is male and heavier still, and all the wheat sifted from chaff at the mill.
Thank God for the ideas not shown on our face. He forbid their existence in this place.
But all work and no play, and with her expression mirroring decay,
How can a man ignore such a display?
When forced to walk backwards; fear no reply. Knocked on doors and then waved goodbye.
In summer repose, and autumnal comportment.
Let us say grace, fingers entangled.
Then dine on our crumbled simnel in anger.
As anger eats away at us.
Let us think of the coming dusk.
We shall lie still and awake, expectations nary.
The passions ripped from our chests as they carry,
into the air to smother, we deserve;
lost in the seminal, seasonal fervor.

"I am lost to you, my love.", I said to her.

"But I am only a muse, and your oeuvre,
contains many of us, collected as dust."

Her words struck a chord, and a melody rang.
The sun broke the horizon, and black birds sang.
I could hear church bell's chiming the timing of Prime,
"But," and hesitated I did, as I looked in her eyes, "I'm,
nothing without the inspiration you have delivered me."
Her next words will haunt me heavily, she whispered, "So be."
About how I view women in my life, at times
early morning coffee jitters
like finding Toblerone wrappers
on the stairwells of diabetics
falling into a  state of falsehood
like I had been bamboozled
from my nobility and left with
waves of emptiness,
sweeping through me
like holding
the keys to a motel room
only to discover
your mistress
was nowhere to be found

this black hole dug deep
in my gut and spread
like parasites
but I was
too young
too lonely
too inexperienced
and unprepared
without the right tools
and know how to fill
the void with good
clean dirt

so, I got into the canoe
and a parliament of owls
were perched upon the
dead trees of past lives
leering at my writhing body
with infalliable eyes
as I paddled blindly
down the rivers of
self-induced
comas of dissipation
and through the gauntlet
of lecherous immodesty,
vulgarity and plucking
the strings of surrealist
symphonies

I felt, as if, it were
incumbent of me to become
the scum of the Earth
and no spatula was going
to pick me out of the grout

in Elgin,
I only stopped in
for "a" beer
I didn't know I was
going to end up
living here
for the next
5 years

not in the sense of residency, of course,
but overemphasizing and overwelcoming
my stay on the playgrounds of inebriated
controversy filled with passion and crass

luckily for me
adolescence was a gift
a gift ill-treated
by yours truly

the gift of agility to remain conscious
for days, even years without sleep and
somehow surviving on malnourishment
of gas station hot dogs
with a mammoth consumption of alcohol
that gnawed away at my insides

and it doesn’t even phase me

as I peddled bikes down the streets
of rotten luck and drank 40's
to evade present memories
and waste away the day

by night,
I sat at bar stools with
the other troglodytes
and across from flirtatious
bartenders and those mirrors
of mortification constantly
reminding me

taking shot for shot
and continuously refilling
their empty dog dishes
I was drawn to
their endurance,
their ability
to keep me
drunk from the time
I got off from work
until I had to go back
the next day

making the rounds
through a plethora
of neon beer signs
from dive bar to dive bar
like hobos hopping trains
watching the good girls
give everything
to the bad boys
who deserve nothing
but as long as I was
left alone and
gilded with suds,
golden and frothy,
that was something
to me

bedded down in sheets alongside
a revolving door of
career women
with predatory faces
that took advantage of
my incoherence and haunted
those bleak and hazy mornings
filled with meaningless copulations
that I tossed aside like an
apple core

I felt sick,
not from the hangover
but from the unsightly
grotesque that lay
beside me

so I waited...

I waited for them to
leave the room so
I could follow my clothes
that I had just thrown
out the window

I’ve worked the factories
I’ve worked the plants
never bothering to remember
the names because the
expendable faces were
always changing and the
outcomes were always the same

a one way shot down the road
of sleep deprivation and the
filaments of my soul were
ruptured into depletion
I felt robbed
I felt violated
again
     and again
              and again

and no wonder I couldn’t
dance and produce
like they wanted me to

but rather hastily,
the candle burnt down
as the years passed and
those profligate years
in my childhood town
came to a grinding halt
like a stick shoved in the
spokes of a bike tire
and dissolved like
blood tablets as it
relaxed it’s languorous
head down in the
impenetrable darkness
and started to decay
in putrefaction

it was finally time for me to return home

but there was no rutted road
for me to take.
A four year bender that I survived somehow and made me realize I need to take control of my life.
Next page