Panic

it feels like someone is sitting on my chest
and the panic is like a wet cloth pressed on my nose
and eyes
and mouth
and i cannot breathe
some would think i am a seeker of
drama
and some would think i need to be crowned with a tiara
some would tell me brave it out,
this is just another test.

but i know this feeling
it happened when i was cheated on
it happened when my mother was diagnosed with cancer
it happened when i lost a child
it descends like a dementor from azkaban
i feel its mouth on mine
and i cannot remember any light
not a single memory of a smile
but there is this world reeling, reeling, reeling.
preventing any entry of hope or of healing.

 

“Hate crimes against gay people rockets In the UK”

The headline read:

“Hate crimes against gay people rockets

In the UK”

Today.

Incomprehensible

To people who have no prejudice.

But I see prejudice

Everywhere.

I see it in people I love.

Who say they love me.

This need, to be accepted

By a society,

A society, that says, it is

Civilised.

A civilisation that doesn’t accept

Love.

We get caught up,

To be civil, to love?

The more one loves,

The more one hates.

I do not wish to be civil

And correct,

If loving is wrong.

Bent

Love begins with such tenderness –

Even the tears are made of joy!

What wonder it holds in that time,

Oh, what magic it does employ!

The many things that irks love now

Were what held away all its fears.

Who could truly know that sadness

Would supercede past joy in tears?

Each twist in the body was seen,

As some Grecian statue of old;

Now twists are seen with angst and pain

And addressed with manners so cold.

Love glimmered like burnished gold,

When it was young and fresh and new;

But gold doesn’t oxidise with time

And take on shades of green and blue.

Carpe diem, the poets implored,

They chased love and it chased them, too,

This chase has gods fall weary,

Then what the poet, or me or you!

Hubris is a part of all love,

Love declares it rules no ego;

But most of love fades over time,

Under pride and lust’s undertow.

Love, they say, shows its truer form

As it grows with time, some say years,

Some say it lengthens slow or fast

And rebounds truest when death appears.

Love distorts due to other loves,

Experiences are benchmarks here;

Doubt’s a seed people love to sow,

Watered by your own unseasoned fear.

Needless to say, love confuses

All its promises, in the end,

It isn’t love, if fate and time ask

And the imposter agrees to bend.