What if I said I hate your poems
And I don’t believe you’re dark and alluring
Only dull
Grinding against the gurgling crowd
Mustering silence to stand out
What if I said you’re only quiet
Because you have nothing to say?
You say I’m unique
But I don’t think I am, nor are you
You are so obsessed with the many and the few...
Take pictures when you want, woman!
Post them on the screens
Wear lipstick or pink;
Your disgust at anything remotely mainstream
Makes me want to shout
What if I said I hate you now
I wished we had shared more meaning
What if I said I don’t care about
Your vain discourses, boring!
Live in your bubble
I’m off to watch sunsets alone
Go rule an empty nation
Small in your throne.
Give me a cushion, I’ll lay your head.
You think you’re useless, but I’m not dead
I’ll hammer in some sense, my God,
You’re a fucking treasure!
I love your work, your art, your thoughts
Your pain and your pleasure
Cry all you want, here, take some ice-cream
You can, always, come crying to me
I’ll tell you some new jokes for myself to laugh at
So you’d smile too; for me that’s enough, and
I love you like family, my friend,
You say you love me too
We’re fucking amazing
At most things we do!
Or maybe just some things, who cares, right?
Let’s listen to some music and we’ll be just fine.
I think I am happy, I wrote some new songs.
I love the sunsets, and where I come from,
There is much beauty but there is more evil
It hurts to look, and when you do see them
You blame all mankind, you refuse to exist
You can’t solve a thing, not those you wished
Your friends might still love you
Wrap you with smiles
But so many unhappy,
The disparity in lives-
But I think I’m happy. I just wrote some songs
I know I can’t really right all the wrongs
I’m glad for friendships, for family as well
We live in our fights and the cold war spells
Let’s have some chocolates. You want some tea?
I think I am happy, and I want you to be
Glad that you met me, glad that you’re here
Tapping on the moment, spreading some cheer
I’m glad to have met you; I’ll write you a song
I’m starting a journey, friend. Won’t you come along?
My silences are sprinting
They're so many, at once
There's a pimple on my wooden face
Waiting to be burst
But the silences come first
They threaten me with an explosion
I can already smell ashes
Grey, spotty, flaky, and choking
A ruined world remaking
No I'm not romanticizing
Someone else's war
All my problems are mine, okay?
My jarred edges
Reek of stale cynicism
My unlit mind
Damp and resistant to hope
I try to look like I care
Resharing brutal news
Replaying the victims' tears
I mimic activism
Lying passive in my bed of privilege
Unremarkable in my performative concern
As I think to myself
The world will always stretch, tear and burn
I am throwing my words around
Because I like their gibberish sounds
They're hurdles for the silent beams
That are racing towards me
And I don't want to be found.
I will Rest my chubby fingers Against the cool iron bars Before my white painted windows Rest my sad shaped shoulder Against a wall which homes me Rest myself
The rain sings so beautifully It is beyond all writing I am beyond all words
I can be a moldy green patch of earth Who said I’m a girl? My feet isn’t skin They’re shells And they’re beautiful
The rain falls like it knows How to empty me I am happy as I know I am not only me
I am the rain The iron bars The window and the wall I have never lived or never died But I am alive and I’m singing
Today I don’t need to write Because today I can feel Today I can be Today I can sing What else do I need?
My childhood was inside books- Fairy tales and detective stories; Tonight when the city dies another death I clutch at my laptop I look up those books But I can’t go back to my grandmother’s old apartment and get them
I can’t go back to When I was not more than three feet high When I felt pretty And the green grass called me
It doesn’t, anymore How strange it is that the grass loses voice And I lose mine
I was nine but my little palm Could hold a world of confidence I trapped it in my fist and placed it on my hips I wore my blue frock and posed And I thought the world was mine
Now I think I was stupid Now I know I was happy Now I know, it’s childhood
The grass, the sky, the trees, the roads, Hell, even the streetlights after rain They’ve all lost their voices My old books lie dead Do they miss a blue-frocked girl?
But I miss her She didn’t care about the bad days she had She was me, some day. Now, just a third person pronoun I can’t reach
I’ll allow myself some tears While wishing she were here She has a lot that she could teach.
It's nice to have friends
But it's also not bad
To hear cotton-voiced guys and marble-voiced girls-
Strangers over group calls,
A happy little break from
Rotting in your bed and
Staring at the walls
A sixteen year old plays her favourite songs For a man a decade older I try to warn her But she doesn’t listen But I don’t listen As I keep humming the tunes The artsy man says his girlfriend loves I thank God he’s unavailable
I tease a guy, pull his legs I think I would avoid him If I were to meet him anywhere A classroom, a bus stand, a friend’s house He is rural but his tastes are global A gen Z specimen and a flirt I call him my brother and he bans me from the chat All girls in the group face exactly that And we laugh I promise to stop and he lets me come back But he’s a virgin, he says And I’m a virgin, but I only smile We all know we aren’t going anywhere Further
The older woman who sings like a star And the guy my age who plays the guitar The nerdy boy who shares great memes And the sulky teen who has big dreams All of them, I’ve known for a week, All of them have known me a bit
When the walls shut me in I let the internet win: They’re fragile and fickle But these are still bonds When I scrape for memories They won’t be gone
We’re, we know, just passing the time They tell me stories and then listen to mine, And we waste away our lonelinesses With pseudonyms and masked faces, Celebrating our virtual lives.
He was singing with sleep in his mouth
My head was full of waking dreams
Our arms melted into skin in love
My sleeplessness was soothed by it
I asked him who he was
He said he has always been,
Sometimes the drop of yellow paint
On the dusky city sky
Sometimes a bubble of nostalgia
Of familiar roads I pass by
Sometimes nothing more
Than a ray of hope
That there will be another day
Or maybe a poem I wrote
Thinking about things adore
Or complaining about those I hate
He sang to me until I fell asleep
Blessed me with dreams to dream
I don't know who he is or will be
I know he will give me wings
It was the year when millions died And a girl woke out of love It was when shells were broken Souls roamed free Bodies stuck to their cages For what seemed like ages
People online played board games A man broke his back Scratching miles on earth To and fro, a migrant and a labourer Nothing more nor less Perhaps a little less human
Sunrise dripped out of the sky The youth shed tears Mourning its days of freedom Hearts beat as fast as Fingers typed on screens Reality had shifted its venue
And the old, they died And I remembered the saying Death is the death of the fear of death But death is real as real can get. It was the year we all broke anew It was the year I fell for you.
What would I do If I couldn’t smell The blue syrup of the sky after dawn What would I do If you hadn’t worn a dress Baby blue with innocent joy What would I do If the waters didn’t flourish In all shades of blue
What would I do If I couldn’t romanticize My slothful blues Dull, greyish and tear-less What would I do Oh, what would I do?
mimimusing 