Summer.

Summer of losing control. Summer of giving up words because my foggy despair has been too much for thinking or writing about the bursting maple leaves or flush of clouds overhead or the thunder of loving and being loved. Summer of hunger. Summer of scrutiny in front of every mirror, deadened while simultaneously feeling like a stripped nerve held to flame. Summer of running from. Summer of going in circles and circles, looking for the unlocked door and finding none, just stoic plaster and echoing vibrations of sadness. Summer of playing both puppet master and marionette, dominating my own strings with an unforgiving hand [we control microcosms when we cannot control larger things; we count and obsess and ritualize because the reality we can't face will devour us if we don’t, and this reality is that life can be as unexpected and gut-wrenching as a small child stepping innocently onto a minefield while We the spectators look on, aghast]. Summer of doubt. Summer of wondering whether or not anyone has any love left for me, and if so, why? Why such an infinite reserve for my struggling tangle of inelegance and repeated failure? Summer of breaking the surface not for myself but for anybody who has ever felt like this, for anyone who has woken up with a hook through their gills and a throat twisted airless by invisible fists, for anybody who’s flexed their jaws in spite of it and let their tongues dance, for anyone brave. Summer of tremendous beauty witnessed from the wrong side of the glass. Summer of sunset and moonrise and daisies, daisies, daisies, so exquisite yet so far away from where I’ve been living; this morgue of nuclear silence and absent pulse. Summer of polarity. Summer of numbness swooping into ecstasy then dipping into bottomless rage with no middle ground, just explosions of zeal and explosions of ache, but always, always explosions. Summer of lightning. Summer of determination. Summer of humidity between two hands holding. Summer of finality and chin lift and aftermath, of rubble as my foundation and destruction as my momentum, and I, rising like a balloon, unstoppable. Summer of transformation. Summer of trying on selves like vintage gowns, rejecting one after the next with the growing panic that accompanies the fact that this is who I am—endlessly, inexorably, relentlessly—that I can try to run from her or shape her into someone else, but she will always return, this girl of hardness and softness, this woman of perseverant fire, this funny little garden of mishap and epiphany, that there is nowhere left to hide, just this room where I stand cornered, forced finally to turn and embrace myself with a fury of welcome.

His hair so rich and thick
Spiraling upward higher and higher
Voluminous in appearance
Bold in its statement

Copious curls demanding attention
Natural, beautiful and free flowing
Standing tall to whomever it encounters
Sunlight beaming into its brown hue

It tells a story of bloodline and culture
Narrates history, prejudice, acceptance
Perseverant by nature
Resilient against criticism

I worship his hair from a distance
Yearning to feel it in between my fingers
Kiss his strands one by one
Inhale its scent like aromatherapy

my hand seem steady now
filled with dark earth
that i toss reluctantly 
into the grave you dug
for my heart.

i see it its last pulsations
almost as if it found its epiphany
in the deep shadows
where you once found me
with your smile. 

the cold february air
wraps it with an essential numbness
as it drifts off to a silence
as loud as the anguished howl
in my perseverant brain.

i mourn for my heart
slipping from your shaky grip.
strange how strong inertia feels
when you hit bottom, 
the sound of sadness
is unbearable.

Words
Screaming
Through
My
Head
Tears
Streaming
Down
My
Face
As I sit
With my back
To the locked door
So that you don't walk in on me.
I
Try
To
Calm
Myself
Down
But you can't escape from your own head.
The demons
They follow me
Perseverant
Determined
They need to destroy me.
GET OUT
GET OUT
GET OUT
GET OUT
GET OUT
GET OUT
GET OUT
OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT!!
GET OUT OF MY ROOM
GET OUT OF MY HEAD
GET OUT OF MY HEART
GET OUT OF MY LIFE
And maybe
then
after you get out of my room
and out of my head
and out of my heart
and out of my life
after you're well and truly gone
then they can fix me again.
But you can't fix a window
that's shattered into a million pieces.
Even if everyone
helped
look
for
them.

A soft spot for you

Be the laborious light
in me which keeps the
energy and strength
morally ignited with
the righteous
hope.

The declutter
blessing is so
employed in magic,
because it is related
to good vibes.
I keep dreaming
about an angel in its space.

You showed me such
a perseverant valor!
How can I forget it?

- I wonder about this harmony! It always stays.

©Shivpriya-Beautifulthingsandemotions

#shivpriya-beautif­ulthingsandemotions
#beautifulthingsandemotions

seeds, so small
light as a feather
each one, represents
-second chances

perseverant and resilient
tenacity shows strength and ability
to thrive in harshest of conditions
giving opportunity to create
-an amorist

nothing short of a belesprit
an auric flower such
as yourself
you are the quintessence
of all things kind, patient, and sweet
-effortless gentleness

in awe at your ability to be
virile, and yet remain gentle
i enjoy being in this place with you
-esoteric

Another day I awake because of the loud roar of my stomach, but once again no food in sight
Oh what I would give just to have breakfast, not even a whole plate, maybe just a little bite.

Once again the absence of funds has kept me from attending school, fourth time this week.
It makes no sense I bother to speak up about it. It will sound like I'm complaining when a little assistance is all I am seeking.

I have honestly forgotten the aroma given off by a freshly cook meal or even a cup of mint tea.
Day in, day out I fight this tiresome battle against poverty, anywhere except this life is where I want to be.

This "monster" has deprived me of the right to a good education and maybe soon, the right to life as well.
Sometimes it's as if dying would be an escape from all this: constant struggle, losing battle... This hell.

Hunger is just one for the soldiers of the poverty army that I have met.
I've also met: poor sanitation, poor living conditions, little to no necessities and I'm pretty sure I'll soon meet the general. DEATH

My eyes fill with tears when I cogitate about all I go through every single day.
At nights I lie awake fighting years and ask God why my life had to be this way.

Why me? Why did I have to grow up in a household where the norm is six people sleeping on one bed?
No space to stretch or space to turn without bumping your head.

My cogitation is completely discombobulated by the headache that is a partner of hunger and stress.
I grew up with the hope of better but each second that passes causes that hope to get less and less.

Having to walk barefoot because a simple thing like a pair of sandals is out of my families price range.
Having to share a toothbrush, deodorant... Even sharing the few pieces of clothes we have isn't all that strange.

My mother is at her wit's end with not being able to make ends meet.
She's fed up with living in a world where getting her family through a day alive is like a great feet.

I cry just at the thought of my mom crying simply because she can't prevent us from crying.
I try to be encouraging by saving she should congrtulate herself for keeping us from dying.

I hurt for my siblings that hurt because hunger causes their tummy to hurt.
I resight a Psalms every night and everyday but it has gotten to the point where I don't see what it's worth.


No electricity because the bill is too costly so on the breeze outside at night we have become reliant.
We try and find every means of making it out of each day alive, to make us more perseverant, resilient and defiant.

The system of the inner-city was set up for us to not succeed but only to fail.
Poverty works as a close partner in this ordeal to prevent the possibility of our prevail.

It's strategy has and will always be effective in breaking us physically and spiritually.
While the inner-city completes this process by breaking us mentally and psychologically.

In the event of a sibling becoming sick, the entire family becomes distraught and stress levels go overboard.
Simply because poverty has resulted in less than mediocre health facilities being all that we can afford.

Crime and violence also rise due to the effect of poverty and this has been evident indeed.
People turn to crime because poverty is hindering them from providing food for the mouths that they have to feed.

If parents turn to crime to provide for their families then that leads to increased incarceration.
With parents being locked up, the youths have to face an even more harsh situation.

i'd given up enough of myself to see this may just have to be the last time.

i can sleep wholly, warm and perseverant,
cold to the touch and collected, calculated,
;ambivalent; broken to bits for second-hand consumption
;solvent; pieced to placeless points and to absorb
;coerced; begging for some unanswered sole surprise
;preserved; in warding.

I Am Whole.

3/4/20

On a precipice:
perseverant, undaunted
rises a prayer.

2/4/20

And we learned to live
to love, uphold, win, let go:
time starts after him/.

1/4/20

I emptied my mind
of fears and anxieties,
filled it with birdsong.

31/3/20

When the facade ends,
genies back in our head trunks,
the numb trudge back home

Go back home migrant,
time stops now and who knows when
it is unfrozen!

Mayfly season, now
death is in visitation:
and resurrection

Early morning calm,
feels like the eye of the storm:
yet, this too must pass.

30/3/20

Bougainvilleas
shy smiling, deserted street -
social distancing

29/3/20

Some adorn the trees:
this withering hour, others
deck the mourning earth

28/3/20

Automobiles? no -
this morning, warbler and finch
sing where thoughts crowded

28/3/30

Not that You are not -
but this darkness is mine, Lord,
so must be the light

27/3/20

Vivid light painting
the leaves and wings swishing by
emotions buried;

26/3/20

Budding leaves season -
this pause brings to life, whispers
and colours we missed

Your words
Fly through my head
Like fireflies
Caught in a jar
Trapped by a child
Kissed by the sun
And a strawberry ice cream pop in his hand.

Your words
Dig into my skin
Tunneling
Like an ant
Endlessly perseverant
Endlessly irrelevant
Never more than a soldier
Fighting for a king that doesn't care.

Your words
Surround me
Engulf me
Trap me
An endless web of lies
Stretching out through my heart
Winding around my love
And squeezing
Tight tight
Until I am completely yours
Forevermore.

Taking up the duty
To protect the community
One of the three
Last resort for many

A giant snake with many heads
In the middle of the Oceans bed
His place to rest
His wife the Godess of Wealth

A section of the people
Follow him intensely
Epitome of divinity
Abode for every devotee

Literature about his ideals
Dates back millions of years
Prose Poetry and Sonnets
Whatever you ask he giveth


Every corner of the country
Has temples that house his glory
Has different names originating from a story
Each telling you how much he is worthy

Saints and Sages
Passionately for ages
Wrote transcripts for pages
Has made him ageless

Methods of worship in temples
In his case very different
Particular and perseverant
Pleasing him with dedication.

The supreme power inate
Devotees liberally donate
All his abodes remain wealthy
He shows his kindness on the weak and needy

His place of dwelling
The biggest blessing
Get his address
Considered self realised

Taken many forms
To teach manking its norm
Ten and counting
Wisdom parted the greatest protection

His forms too worshipped
Depending on the message he carried
Path of life to be followed delivered
World a peaceful place if mankind adhered

Classical Music with lyrics
Singing his praise full of spirit
Devotion to him has not limit
Any wrongdoing his judgement swift

Have him in your heart
He will never part
With him never apart
You are God