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I met you and the feeling was immediate.

It won't be easy to forget you.

I've got a funny habit of falling in love with people like you within minutes of knowing them.

And you're looking at me like you wish I knew what was on your mind. But there's no way I could know for sure and I'm not like other guys who will go out on a limb and call you out like "so what's your number?"

If you've got something on your mind, that is up to you to say.

Otherwise I would appreciate it if you just treated me like you did the last guy to come around and interrupt our conversation JUST because you're beautiful.

I'm not going to ask you for your number.

Just treat me like one and stop making me want to ask you.

So I won't have to spend all night trying to forget about you.
Her name was Radavan and I'm moving out of town next week... all I wanted was a beer last night.
'I need focus.' He said standing one footed on the chair with his third four finger scotch swishing lightly in his outstretched hand.

'Why is it I feel inspired when I'm inebriated?'

I paused. I knew there was more.
There's always  more.

'I mean, it's like when I'm without inhibitions,
it's easier to think I'm doing this right.'

'What you need is a lack of inhibitions.'

He put his other foot down and turned to face me watching him curiously from across the dining room.
He seemed shocked to see me. Like he thought he was alone in the room.
But relieved to see I was speaking to him again.

And content to listen for a time.

'It's not like it's a bad thing..
Getting silly faced is just an easy way to get your focus reined in by forcing those inhibitions to leave through chemical intervention.'

His shoulders slumped a little. 'But we both know what taking the easy way gets us.'

I nodded with encouragement. He figured it out.

He seemed relaxed to see I had affection for him again. He lifted his face to look into the mirror beside him and locked eyes with me.

He saw him. He saw he was I.

Better still, I saw myself. And I smiled at my own drunken reflection.
Tears flood into dry deserts,
Arrows in hearts dart down cupids,
The caring turn careless.

-Shahrukh Zamir
Love holds hands with lust,
Stomach butterflies hide back in there cocoons,
She knows he's different, but they all  look the same.

-Shahrukh Zamir
The revolution will not take place in McDonald’s
Born out of lethargic, flaky or fickle bodies

Words and actions, powerful ammunitions
But vessels, our bodies, control those manifestations
An armament, the body
Matter without which revolution cannot happen

Us who struggle, while we waste away
Those invested in maintaining power and privilege
Don’t only safeguard their money
They protect their bodies too
And only that of the offspring
Invested in perpetuating power and privilege

They not only monopolize learning and leadership
As mechanisms of dominance and control
They run and eat to fuel that constant fight

Man, wealthy or poor
May give into the vise of fast food and intoxication
But those invested in control
Conscious of power and privilege are no fools
Fortified not only by lawyers and henchmen
But by doctors, fitness trainers, fresh harvests
Having the choice and access to fresh produce

Us colored children from the hoods, the barrios
Our moms, or dads, or single parents
Working month to month
Frustrated because we don't eat fruit and vegetables
Instead eating frozen, canned, chemically enhanced
Microwaveable dinners and junk foods

Skinny, chubby, or obese
Eating our twinkies, doritos, and coke
Can’t even run a block without running out of breath
Diabetes, heart disease, cholesterol, asthma, obesity
Not even looming in the back of our minds

We need youth to represent our communities
We need youth to fight for our communities
We need youth whose minds and stomachs are filled
Not with fodder and capitalist waste
But with food, ideas that fill them, fuel them
Not out of a temporary desire for satisfaction
Rather a prolonged political exercise to fortify themselves
As agents of a transformative process in the world

Frozen, canned, chemically enhanced lunches at school
Soda fountains, fried food, fast food, junk food
May always be subsidized, marketed, made affordable
To be part of your breakfast, lunch and or dinner

Still never reject an apple, orange or pear
Those with power and privilege
May not even have to think about
Their regimented diets
With endless fruits available to them

But for us, a single fruit made available to us
Has to be a daily reminder
An act of defiance
To chose to strengthen our bodies with it

A slippage of those invested in our chains
When the owners of industry
Have socialized us to think
Coca cola, pizza, and burgers
Are parts of our cultural identity
A modern industrialized upgrade
Our diet decisions driven by capitalist consumerism

There may be no specialized fitness trainers
Expensive equipment
Lush parks, jogging tracks, bicycle lanes, or bicycles
In our neighborhoods
But there is a space right next to your bed
Or a piece of floor where you live
And you have your body
Just do a few jumping jacks, push ups, sit ups

You need to have the patience and love
To protect and fortify not only your mind
But your body
To know that the more you fortify yourself
The more you are going to be able to fight exploitation
The more you are going to protect and fight
The ones you love, and even the ones
You won’t even realize you have saved as a result

We may not always have the access to healthy food
But we have the choice to request it collectively
In educational spaces and to take the initiative to exercise
March 25, 2014
When your heart doesn't tell the truth
The pain in your eyes
bares it all...
Do not hide from me...
Do not say a thing...
Do not be ashamed..
But your eyes tell a story...
Your eyes give the clue...
Your heart cries...
Your eyes tell...
How much pain...
You've tried to endure...
The multitude is flowing ahead
Teeming with dreams and hope
Crammed, with little place to move
There is dearth of space in the mind
Physically, we are reaching fatigue
What do we have for choice?
The power to choose is taken away
Our choices influenced by publicity
Duplicating a parallel world of feel good
Yet, deep down we are queasy
Something is not right, not identifiable
Blinded by the dazzles of show- biz
As if, all the actors are being directed
Chosen to play a role, not ours to choose
Memorizing written scripts, to deliver
Speeches which are not ours, we feel
Our dreams invaded, and manipulated
Our originality, suppressed in the makeup
Masquerading, our inner thoughts and ideas
Repeating the same role everyday
Delivering the scripted dialogues
Keeping in mind that we are here for audience
Our originality and individuality torn apart
Our original script has gone down the shredder
Who has the energy to pick up the pieces?
To join, the strewn dreams and live in a new way
We are just a created avatar, directed, indirectly
Of what we love, wear, eat, and live our life
Swept away by the waves of multitude
Individuality is relegated to the dark confines
Where can we start searching, our real counterpart?





© Amitav (Radiance)
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