My favorite hell

"In the beginning there was a river. The river became a road and the road branched out to the whole world. And because the road was once a river it was always hungry."

Hungry desolate ghosts walked on it night and day...they had little memories of the the period of abundance. They just remebered their hungers and kept weeping and crying for want of things. Their hungers and broken dreams were the only real things in their lives. No one could have blamed them for their small crying selves.

Then their were the tall giants who walked on that road.

Ben Okri- The Famished Road

Lost Homes

At 26 its hard to get over lost homes.I thought not counting would make me forget them better. But every lost home takes away parts of I am not young enough to loose with so much grace. I snout pout beg beseech and curse now! For every cut that is made on to me. And yet who can shout out all the pain of loosing a home?
I miss those white walls everyday. I wonder if they miss me too.Maybe I even hate them for not missing me! They were stark the first time I saw them. Stark white with rough patches. And yet they invited one with a purpose. I entered. I didn't like it for a long time. It was a rough place just not the kind where you could get comfortable easily. Hardly the kind where you would think of settling down for a long time. But as human beings are silly, they make pets out of foxes and even start talking to walls. So I did! I started talking to walls. And the walls started talking back to me. Sometimes.
Then I thought we were frequently talking. And then one day the walls went silent.
I think I started shouting at the walls then...I was told to leave. There were some new people who had entered and they had now perhaps a new language of talking to the walls. They told me to vacate..Because the walls obviously didnt talk to me anymore. I lost my home and I lost my language.
I still talk to those white walls. I am sure they hear me...I want to know why do they change their language so frequently? I thought homes were supposed to last longer than hearts. Isnt that why people build homes?

I fear for the truth!

When my truth becomes so overpowering that it starts piercing into my veins
when I get up at night with clenched fists...holding the promise of my truth in my hand..it draws blood in my nails....its difficult to go back to sleep at nights these days...
Is it truth or is it madness that is growing within me?
I am helplessly blind as i stare into it to find out...
I have no way of finding out
There are growing shouts of slogans inside me...they shout louder everyday...does anybody else hear it too? Am I the only one who is supposed to be awakened by it...
This rowdy truth..this unflincing state of things within me...
What about the the larger world?
What if its just a pink bubble of stupidity....just a lot of my own shit smoking profound suddenly...and I a poor servant at...must carry it out...because it has fallen on my head..because its grown in my stomach..nurtured on my hopes and desires.
Its looks so precious...
What if it isnt the larger truth?
And I will forever fight everything that tries to break this dream...
The largest truth, the gods truth, the human truth...every logic, every rule, every single thorn on its way...
Its the truth of my dream.
Every thorn in its way pierces me like a dagger...every silly thorn becomes like a tank pointing at me...ready to shred me to pieces...because I have a truth growing in my belly.
and I fear for every truth of this world.

Tell me someday

What were you doing when I sang that song, the best that i have sung so far...
does that song not come back to you on fresh mornings when you want to get on with your new life?
what did you hear when I bared my heart to you.
What do you see when you see me?
How much do I total up to in your MATHEMATICS of life.
Tell me do my prayers reach you?
Does my silent anger cause some irritation in your throat?
Do you feel complete on that mountain with my hopes all floating around your neck..arent you scared that someday they will gather like a noose and strangle your noble thoughts on the world.
Dont you have spirals of our conversation floating around you when somebody talks to you? does it not catch you unaware?
Have people never snapped at you because you were absentminded thinking about me?
tell me someday...why doesnt it happen to you..like it happens to me!

Empty bed blues....

Somedays I get up and feel this lump of great sadness in my throat.
Those days its a shame to look inside. There is a wet lump of lonliness dangling around somewhere..dont know if the world sees it..I feel it hanging down my shoulders.
And then doubts creep in like sand snakes on the shore
Has my love so far has been a total waste of everybodies time?
I havnt built anything that would last me and I havnt found anything that was really mine...All I wanted to do was temporary...my art, my work..all about fads that passed away gradually
I pray for grace...and I feel a kick in my gut...its not happening..
The prayers flare up inside...I cant be patient when I see nothing to hold onto in my hand.
Somedays its difficult to ignore these loud roaring questions.
Someday I must confront this emptiness and shout and swear at the world..
How long will I run and leave it all behind?
Where have you disappeared?
Why am I alone in all of this?
Why was I here all these years? For whom?
What have I been doing?
Has it all been waisted time?

if ???????????

if i could exist without taking space
if i keep quite everytime you hurt me
if i never notice the things that you do
if i never ask for anything
if i crouch everytime you are around
if i never question your motives
if i never asked any audacious questions
if i could help myself from being just another woman

would i be less offensive to you then?