Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Cups of Clay...

Bubbling tea
Ginger laced steam
Tingling nerves
Innocent smile
Cups of clay...
I ask
Where is it?
 Your piece of celebration?
Shy laughter
Crinkling crowfeet
I melt it
She says
And sell it to you
In these cups of clay...
Limitless riches
Blown in moments
Aimless glitter
My celebration
Endless nights
Relentless labour
A bag full of coins
All of it
She drains down
In those little cups of clay...


As the embers of my last cigarette
Are quietened by the wind
I look through the mist
Of nicotine ghosts....
A world cluttered with hexagons
The lives and the lifeless
All in one frame....
Like chips of coloured glass
In a playful kaleidoscope....
While my hung up mind
Chooses to surrender....
To the balmy peace
Of a consummated moon....
The wilderness sways
In my silent adoration
Of one scar- less instance
That man has failed to molest....
And I’m one
With her presence....
Whether it is her beckoning
Or a drugged nerve wreck
I know not.....
For now, I decide
To blindfold my being
In her tender embrace...
And brush off the shreds
Of worldly affliction....
To carve out the essence
Of those fathomless bokehs....

Thursday, March 8, 2012

I'm Okay...

Every morning
I frame my vision
In the demon- like mirror

Through the sun bathed picture
Of a normal girl
I see me and my skin
Through the stencils of convention

I touch me
And I rub my face
I reassemble my hair
And wash myself
Over and over
Till the softness of fabric
Burns against my skin

Do I look any better?
I don’t know

A dab of smelly substances
That claim to transport me
To larger than life posters
I had smeared heavily
Before a hunger- troubled slumber
Blissfully hoping
It would overcome
All my inlaid insecurities

But of course
Magic is cooked up
In cauldrons of imagination

I walk out of the door
Tugging at my clothes
With inherent discomfort
Because this angle
And that fold
Makes my facade

And yet I don’t spare
A single rear view mirror
Or a glass pane
Or even the darkened windows of cars
To reassure that nagging voice
That bullies me in my head

And every time I walk past
Those pretty boots
On skinny legs
Those sleazy skirts
That audacious dress
I tuck my tummy in
And for those few blissful moments
With reality withdrawn
And my skin pulled tight
I replicate every plastic smile
And answer every hollow greeting
With an empty, evasive
“I’m okay”...

On woman's day
To every woman who has a body image issue...