Latest Posts by akratiisalive - Page 3

Transcript and tag-list under the cut:

Finding Your Home

There’s smoke coming from across the pond,/ A pond that doesn’t harbour water anymore./ How tenebrous must it be:/ I inhale the factory./ The remnants of your glass beads,/ they fall into place, marking my path/ into the throat of words & winds/ & I step ahead to lean into the summer.// Birds, vultures, butterflies:/ You keep your promises intact, / Air still harbours you./ But I am escaping your field. Honey,/ I want to escape your field./ If only I could be so righteous,/ If only I could have indulged before your periods,/ A probable concrete must have been built./ My words could have never sunk in your flesh,/ our elbows wouldn’t have stung in water. //By each step, i am stepping afar/ from the transient blue dome./ Children, Mothers, Grandparents-/ All are holding hands to protect each other,/ -Our hands were tied to our shadows, / So when I stepped onto yours, I set you free.// Another break from the vicious beauty:/ A tree so beaten stands like an electric pole/ that infuses current, I shan’t say but,/ in me and you./ I tiptoe around its roots:/ How firm must it be?/ Is it you? / Is it you?// At last the mud is turning grey,// Two well lit candles are welcoming my plight.// I breathe in the wicks with my mouth & nose// & your dictionaries come into sight.// They are so indifferent to what you have spoken,// I need your voice to pronounce these words.// Scouring the stone house, I find a litany// that bylines your name prefixing ‘late’.// Feeling my heart dousing your walls,// I step outside to find a mausoleum. // Mangoes-/ Rotten Mangoes are fencing your grave./ I shut my nose to fixate my sight/ onto the path that I have yet to cover/ Lest your death may be a distraction./ Distraction destruction-/I never succumbed/ to the grass adorning my grave. What difference/ does it make?/ If I mustn’t lie with you,/Why shall mother earth/ take me in?

tagging: @carvedoutofpain @rottensummerlove @nochampagneonlyproblems @some-broken-words @ruins-of-heart @hoeliterature @floralbeast @starlightandnightbreeze @riskanothergoodbye13 @mydogisgaytoo @kajukatliontop

mother, o mother! by @akratiisalive, published in ayaskala magazine

the faces on cardboard stand so still, so stubborn;

some crooked, grinning, others flushed, skinny.

they perch so distinct yet so similar. so alive in the moment, dead soon after.

what do they say about the bodies they are attached to?

how spontaneous but motionless, such misdirects they create!

some jaws clenched, some eyes flashing red;

they froze the moment but fabricating the abstract sense.

after some sixteen nights,

the bodies live vicariously through the stationary smirks,

touching each other’s arms, rejoicing in

the nihilistic environment they concocted once.

its been several years since they faced the flash,

they have propagated the boards, one for each soul.

now the memory serves only when one roams about the storeroom.

so they do, if roam not often, but once a month.

“the cardboard emits different reflections”, each mutters.

time changed their vision and their power to resist what it brought-

faces on cardboards stand so still, so stubborn,

some crooked, grinning, flushing fiendish forms.

- @akratiisalive

water seepage;

thump-thump! in the box.

her ears drowned,

she shifted in her slumber.

in came a blow

as its wings swung by;

her satin shorts shivered,

she lifted her grandma’s spirited quilt.

calming the horripilations,

she could sniff the old lady’s cinnamon tea.

though the summers called for chills,

humanly warmth was indispensable .

- @akratiisalive

standing by her mother in the kitchen,

she plays around with knives and spoons.

her mother refrains, she puts them back;

gazing graciously, her eyes linger upon the stove-

four feet is all, she tiptoes

a little closer: steam's up to her face.

she sees the color-

dazzling brown with a tint of red.

tastes saliva, she can feel the cardamom,

though too small to even boil the water.

her steps pace the kitchen,

a frown lingers upon her head,

"what are you cooking, mama?"

"your brother's favorite."

- @akratiisalive

I would love to be healed

if you’d touch me,

But I wouldn’t be all the same.

So would you love me healed

or have you learned to adjust

in my broken crevices?

Do they still leave a mark deeper than paper cuts

or are you numb to all the succumbing

my nightmares brought you to?

- @akratiisalive

I read the words you spilled with your ink.

The kalam wasn’t yours, you felt your words were stolen

from generations of speakers and coherent concepts that

you have been reading since your father first gave you his mother’s death book.

You never took my breaths away,

I let your imagery sink in my skin

like a child entering adolescence,

I felt incomplete.

You complied them for her-

enchanting, like waters falling from a height in a river,

You distinguished and tied her together

as I sat reading. She was such a goddess-

You were in her feet, you merely described her arms

and if I were to offer you mine-

Ink spilled just like yours- you wouldn’t come.

You believed in one of a kind

And we shared dispositions.

- @akratiisalive

I turn towards the ocean When they turn towards me; They do it out of pity, I for being a liability. - @akratiisalive

In a million pieces i fell-

The untoward had happened;

none heard my bones cracked,

none felt the silence it left me with.

The earth beneath me wasn’t holy or fertile.

It was cemented, though crooked, unzipping.

The sky turned on me,

enclosing my body, following my soul-

I didn’t turn my head in, it was held straight

but another did not shield my body, I was left alone.

Thus, the realisation flickered my shattered soul:

The fate of being alive

didn’t help the survival,

didn’t care for salvation.

- @akratiisalive

Don’t you feel as if you’re too deep into the ocean?

Sand not ingrained, water always running,

but your head is only so much above it.

I can see the earth engulfing your legs,

you thighs, your belly button,

your collar bones, your smile...

Sooner,

you are slipping, mother nature is playing;

I wish to never have believed my mother’s instincts

When she said our land is whispering,

“happiness, glory, refuging, stillness...”

I feel threatened by my sanity;

I feel threatened my your imagery.

- @akratiisalive

Trigger Warning: physical violence.

I'm so terrified. I have loved and unloved And it's not what I desired, it's just unjust. I have lived my sins And wept for good; I am a holy spirit in the world of blasphemous rules. I am plused and minused diurnally, Have been holding hands with ghosts, mentally. "Shut up and bang your head into the wall; a heart so strong will never get old." I stand for nothing, Immortality petrifies me. A heart so strong was never strong. To judge and build you cannot keep my sins. I'll cut my hands and bleed internally If that's what it takes to be holy and survive harmlessly. I will weep for the good until after you gauge out my eyes. If I showed you love you will die.

- @akratiisalive

Consent

Consent is what calls for untoward

When we lose our minds

In hopes of not losing them;

It rights people to perform harshness

With grace, and turn the blame on us.

Consent is nothing but a web

Of lies and unjustness,

Felt heavy at the moment.

It's nice to ask

but never to approve.

It's a web, again.

A web of the unconscious in

the moment of liveliness

- @akratiisalive

Hearts and souls skip a beat, Meet with terrific tragedies.                                    Common it is to all humans:

You can’t be normal                                                  Unless your normal is extraordinary.                      - @akratiisalive

We are all the things we do for fun, Heaven only knows what will become of us. I’ll live until my feet get blue, Party in every dumpster on every road.

The city is fascinating, it has its charms; We get drunk in every subway and car.

Wear it like I’m in the movie Got no director, producer- Just us in the mornings. Sloppy masks and makeup- Not going to take them off. What would you do If I stopped turning you on? - @akratiisalive