Category: Uncategorized

I was once a rose
but the years spent spun in a
nuclear centrifuge has filled
me with a rage,
a taproot tethered to an
experiment gone wrong.
Over the years, their pipettes punctured cells
to inject a serum, to replace these rose-petals
with a hunter’s heart.
Little did they know that all
the years I’d spent praying away this gay
would result in an unshackled mutant,
a hybrid with tendrils longer
than the strings they’d use to move me.
Now, they’re microscopic mad scientists
watching helplessly as I roam free
and charge through their barriers
possessed like Biollante.

Max chased the Wretches to the waste
Such beings bred from scientists’ haste
A blend of man and beast
Conjured in labs for tasks discrete
Controlling the brood proved a feat
Till peace time here did cease.

From corners and cages they flew
As bombs dropped at morning’s dew
Raging, frantic, incensed
A spirit of boldness soon grew
Freedom taught the Wretches life true
Bonds no longer made sense.

Enter our hero of pure stock
Max, a born leader of the flock
Determined, committed
To wrangling the Wretches in field
But the brood refused to yield
Could they be outwitted?

The waste, the devil surely carved
A place where all creatures soon starved
Cruel, careless creators
Cursing the brood to such sad fate
That man always held heaven’s gate
Unmasks God’s true traitors.

(!)
Aliens

I wanted them to be like death
Seemingly far away
But knowing that I will be meeting them for sure
Knowing that I have a rendez-vous with them

Knowing that the very thought of them
Will stumble into my soul
Not now, of course
I am not yet red meat
I am not this yet

(!)
What is the name… among us?
Is it necessary?
Is it empty?
Is it temporary?

What a laugh!
Aliens
They are too pure for us anyway
Unlike rats and pigeons
We don’t seem to want them
But
Aliens!

(!)
They are not like a certain death

They don’t give a damn about us
Just like we don’t give a damn about fish

Maybe we are fish to them
With small brains, useless flesh and soulless hearts
Maybe we are homeless fish to them

But
(!)
I am no fish!
I don’t want to be fish to them
Want to be their friend, their enemy, their threat, their experiment, nude as a chicken for them
But not fish
That’s pretty unfair if you ask me
That they think we are fish
That they don’t want to kill, kill, kill
I mean

Making.
Dawn.
flourishing.
Lay to rest.

otherwise.

Fabrication.
Arrival.
Broadening
Death.

-Emma perkins

sequined dresses
rot in my closet
“vintage” earrings
and eid bangles colored dark brown
they used to be ruby red and gold
fit for a bride or a princess
or a a little girl
only “desi” from a couple bracelets
that could be bended with a stroke
i’d never tell my mother how many of her bangles
i broke that way
twisting them into weird shapes
sometimes the alphabet,
sometimes hearts, sometimes eights
sometimes i think she wouldn’t even care
sometimes my own culture feels like hearsay
never a place for shimmer on my wrist
grandparents and cousins pass
without one chat
only flashes of biryani and mangos
they feel like imitations to follow
real memories
no eid parties, ramadan dinners, no chants of zindabad
no real idea where i come from
only imposter-syndrome
during cricket matches and bollywood movies
people call me lucky
“you speak three languages!”
but i’ve forgotten my own
broken family and broken punjabi
i wish my “desi”
was more than things
more than pretend
but we moved too far for that
every bend of a bangle
destroyed practices
that should’ve seeped into my skin
and flowed through my blood
I forgot traditions
fashioned and followed for a millennia
in one generation
I killed a culture for my children
I wish my desi was more
I wish it was me, for them

Tearing the ground apart
As the soil splits, it bleeds.
The earth mends itself, weaving back stronger,
But my lips?
Words unravel them
Until I stitch them shut tight
So it hurts to speak.

I face the mirror.
There I am,
Whole, yet fragile.
I reach out to feel, but
fear washes over me like a torrent
cracking the glass before I can.
I shatter myself before the world can.

Eons of tears, scattered like seashells
hidden and abundant
I press one to my ear.
Sorrows echo inside—
the waves lashing,
growing distant but
never gone.
The ocean and my tears taste the same
Both humming the same song.

It scratches the itch away
but each touch splinters another mirror.
Even my own body fractures
Working against me
Splitting when I need it whole.

My eyes buzz like the inside of the seashell.
The mirror stares back at me,
Its smashed surface screeching louder.
But beyond the cracks, I hear the waves
Crooning somewhere
Tucked into the seashell’s grooves
Savoring its last embrace of the shore
before waning away.

I will piece it back together.
Even if the shards are buried deep
Even if they cut me
I will piece it back together.
My fear will not be the victor.

It stays around my wrist—
The shell entwined with thread
Through the mud, the smoke, or the fire,
small, yet unbroken.
still singing
an echo of who I am

my letters are tossed into a panning box
which I shake and watch
shake and watch
but no words emerge
the letters dance, swing themselves
and crowd into frightened huddles
of code
or nonsense

this morning, I almost saw
the words evil, silver and sliver
but they weren’t there
only broken versions of
happy, sometimes, and
don’t

silently, i cheer on their tiny teams
hoping they gel
cement into significance
yet their marching never runs above
a stagger
slow gangs
of panic

I reach a bony finger into the box
and stir them
shove them
nudge them

I coax nothing.

I salt them with periods,
painting
with confused pepper…
nudge and shove
nudge and shove

I will continue my harmless singing
keep injecting myself
into them
experimenting
with expression
as I
we
play with
the end of time.

You told her to crack under pressure
Yet she’ll conquer the field
Expect sweet surprises

Because she’s beautifully designed
She’s rich in flavor
Rich in creativity
Expect sweet surprises
Or you won’t see
The little girl

Who secretly loves
Everybody

It is raining now as it was then
The pitter-patter on the roof
Will it never end
Today is a rebirth of the man he is
To leave the past, let a new life begin

All had planned so much for this day
When a devil wished for him to fail and go away
He couldn’t be destroyed by the demons within
This was his chance to prove at last
He alone could bury the past

Satan’s darkness connived for him to be defeated
To destroy his dream and the world he created
The battles he won but the war still lingers
He fought to survive and not succumb to suicide
The time had finally come for him to rise

An easy life was never his to choose but
The devil made sure he was raped and abused
To see him addicted to drugs and booze
He was a warrior to fight what Hades unleashed
To escape from that hell and finally be free

He hadn’t created a collection for over a year
He spent his time wallowing in meth and beer
Given uppers and downers to control his moods
Gossip and rumors were spread about the town
The devil wanted him dead and gone

Deep down he had the confidence to succeed
No need for drugs that a rapist would provide
To believe in himself and refute all the lies
He had proven his strength more than a thousand times
He walked away from the abuse and his will to die

The creativity that lives just behind his eyes
A ninja with a sketchbook and endless drive
Cutting and draping to see a mannequin come alive
A master chef in his own right, the workroom his kitchen
His utensils are scissors, pins, and a utility knife

And on this day the bells of freedom will ring
Guests applaud and then they cheer and sing
A star whose flame was burning out
Was reignited when the rain ceased
and the sun came about
And in the end, all will see
The success this brilliant designer will achieve

The junior lady doctor was planning to expose
The heinous acts in the hospital –
Illegal selling of organs and sex with dead
Her life lamp was put off by male monsters after rape.

A woman married a politician at the middle age
Though had a grownup son from the first marriage
She was murdered in a hotel while staying with her spouse
Though her husband was the suspect, it could not be proved.

A film actress was on a holiday tour abroad with husband
They were about to go out from hotel for entertainment
She died inside the bath room in the bathtub
While her husband was sitting outside in the suite.

Wife fell in love with the husband’s friend
She made him drunk to the brim
Sat on his chest and strangulated him
For living with her paramour.

The husband did not like the chicken curry
Made by his wife, a quarrel ensued
The woman along with her sister killed the man
With an iron rod.

A man took a six years old girl to a secluded place
He was about to rape the child
Monkeys nearby attacked the man
Animal proved to be better than human.