Insecurities

Would I be called names

For being jealous 

Of another successful poet?

Or is that a creative quirk

You're allowed to own?

To be your own version of Bukowski;

Be your own eccentric Hemingway;

Be your own unsteady Zelda

And sail through life 

On waves of despair 

That somehow, unbelievably,

Lead you to success, fame,

And immortality.

Life Story

So very often, I forget

the path that got me here.

Convoluted like the Amazon,

its rip tides tearing at my skin without mercy

(that's how the hide was birthed).

Dreams taller than giant sequoias

with only the sky left to breach-

what else could be higher?

I forget the times 

When I knew so little about life,

and had so little to lose.

But love was still the roof

that shielded my head 

from rain, shine and circumstance.

I've always worn a crown 

of joy and peace.

It sits on my head like it owns me.

(I own it).

Happiness comes through love,

and no matter my journey or my pitfalls,

I have always been loved-

it has been my constant truth

and my biggest strength.

I am whole.

Ghost Town

His fingers played

an imaginary song on an imaginary

piano.

The street urchins, however,

could hear his tune.

Claire de lune.

The beaches lay bare-

Stripped clean by disease-

No lovers' clandestine meetings

To hide under the moon.

A barren city that once

Brimmed 

With so many men

That God's arms felt burdened-

Life can be heavy.

Imaginary ebbs and imaginary flows-

This music was for the mind,

not the ears;

Just as this disease is for 

Bodies,

Not for voices.

Take Me For Granted

My lips are moist

With the succulence of

Romance,

And my eyes are brimming

With liquid love.

Our bodies smell 

Of frankincense and lavender

Burning bright and purple;

And today, I think of 

Nothing

But how deeply we have loved

And how purely we have cared.

Patriarchy

"Your art doesn't matter,

Your science is unimportant,

Your worth is less than pennies.

You are a woman. 

No amount of marching

Or protesting

Will change that",

Said the misogynistic mama's boy.

Blindness

I'm so blind

Without my glasses

That all I seem to see

Is you-

A floating dandelion

Carried around

By a flirtatious breeze.

Kashmir

Hey-

If you think there's anything

Extraordinary

About staying indoors

Bathed in layers of fear,

Uncertainty and hopelessness,

And that you deserve a break-

Perhaps first,

Get the internet working again,

And open all the doors

That have stayed locked

For longer months

In Kashmir.