#mypoetry
And I will run
and run and run
through all the time
to find you
and I will search the whole world
if I have to
because being without you
is not an option
-MayAPoetBe (draft)
tell me
is this forever
am I doomed
to feel this way
-mayapoetbe
can’t I go back
to how it was?
but was it really any better
I don’t remember
time before
I don’t remember
ever being happy
-mayapoetbe
I don’t belong to anyone
I don’t belong to you
You don’t belong to anyone
but me
-mayapoetbe
a hug for the sad part of my heart
only being able to cry when I feel safe
trusting that you can trust someone
the freedom that comes from knowing
that letting go is opening up
to unconditional acceptance
of self and of other
from self and from other
a fucking arrow of love
piercing through me
finding the haven of the soul
within the chest
when somehow space dissipates
and only love is left
and what is love?
it is not grasping
it is not a kiss
nor a fuck
nor a lifetime with one person
who “completes you”
love says
you are enough
you belong in this space
you are worthy of embrace
you are safe
it does not say
you are mine
it says
you are free
you are divine
you are a part of me
because we are all a part
of humankind
and a greater mind
how lost I’ve been
in grappling and coping with hope
how i’ve been found, upside down
suspended by my foot by a rope
seeing the world in a new light
cracking open my mind like an egg
the sunlight splits the mist
in the real world
just as I peer into the light
of my soul
and you’re there with me
and you’re all there with me
Love abundant, everlasting
only comes when we’re not grasping
Truth can bind the eyes to the sky
but with a heavy heart you cannot fly
Air cannot be jarred and hoarded
labeled, priced, and then imported
Love cannot be only mine
but with each breath my heart aligns
When I’m left no longer clinging
to my pains and wants and thinking
Evidence of Love is singing
to my heart through piqued up ears
I climbed the mountain, fell in darkness
felt my heart sink, saw the ground
but as I thought the end was here
it dissipated into sound
If life is beating, then retreating;
dancing ‘round the burning bush
Death is left when ash returns
to cradling, beautiful, silent hush
it started with a sense
of a soft glow, a soft heart
a soothing subtle warmth
and inherent trust
the heart grows fonder under water
swelling with it all
Becoming its own ocean
it grows heavy
but we are born of breath
and ever air
and light as one could be
the mind is tidal
tumult, earth nestled
a thunderstorm in a closed off room
at times
we are weather before we find
we are forever, shifting, but divine
i doubted, but the signs kept coming
i doubted, but Love did not
Spirit never tarried
and I was never truly lost
a warm wind, northward bound
the sunlight nourishing
evaporating sorrow, creating spring
the sun let seeds sown blossom
i was inundated and exhausted
resting in rain and shade
full of fear that thunder could shake
and split the earth i grew from
but always harboring faith
i grew
it started with a sense of ease
and ended with a shout
in celebration
now my only storms
are joyful tears
quenching earth
I wake this morning to soft white,
welcoming overcast skies
the wind surge goes to and fro
misting pitter patterned rain
upon my window pane
Each thrush and intermittent hush
coaxes my heart back to sleep
and after the rock tense stress of yesterday
it’s a well needed reprieve
For someone so prone to noise sensitivity
I sure do love birdsong, and the static
background, whispering wind
even the humming mechanical noise, in the distance
contributes as an instrument in an unscripted song
and the cars passing by on the road play along
I think about how poetry can be
struggling to unwrap yourself
when you’re all wound up with rope
and ending up tripping
because every one way ties you up another
Or it can be rhythmic and enchanting;
a magical dance with fate and space
where the mind locks in and the heart beats
in tune with passing waves above, around, within
and everything is beautiful til the heart sinks
because it’s frustrating, knowing
some days the ocean fills you up
and you’re levitating
and it’s POWER in its most essential form
choosing you, flowing through you
and nothing can stop the poem from being born
other days, staring at a page
eyes glazed over, heart full of rage
wanting catharsis, fearing art has become
just a sensitive kid who’s afraid to take the stage
don’t look at me, don’t see me, please
if you don’t care, don’t fake it
i miss the days I’d freely say
whatever stole my heart to break it
but don’t forget me, please forgive
i can’t do this alone
i’ve given everything to this
i’ve made this place my home
all the while the funny little mind wanders
casting prismatic pebbles in the dark
for just a glint
whilst the great cosmic laughter erupts
and the hologram blinks
exposing everything
as light
there we sat,
four strong in the abandoned station
boxes and trash scattered haplessly about
the dim lit room, on couches
tense and anticipatory
she saw seesaws by the water
tilting to and fro
as wind blows cloud by her open mind
a mouth ajar and hanging lame,
spittle sticks
a miscreant metaphor abhorred in dark
a lonesome emptiness that cannot get a grip
when suddenly a crowd forms from
the avenues wherein adventure halts
sign the form
name and date
Brain: Frog
she rants and raves
or is it “he?”
butcher you, to stay
with me forever
No
I will not tarry there
in the stagnant air
won’t weep with you
in this empty room
I’ll dive into the deep
hide beneath the false surface
waves under stillwater
I swim up
a boat laps over me
exposed belly
no rutters cut
no blades to leave me empty
I survive
Father'lone, a search party
but in my dive into obscurity
I left my friends behind
We could’ve taken her
Even in the woeful silence of the ever present dark
a subtle light turns over itself, tonight,
whilst dwindling minds steep.
In hazy heated havens; still ticks the metronome
Beguiling are the hues of shimmering earth
that mimic spectacles surrendered to the skies,
and the beyond which there, Beyond, it lies:
a breathing magick being we call space.
Fear, always persistent, strikes the aching heart,
and pain will rupture us; but split in two
we might adjourn through shrouds of all
absconded, thence, to find ourselves.
Wind hugs flat ground, races over empty roads,
carries what is left of life in remnants from days gone.
Transposed from temporality incarnate,
a ghost; a mist; a lingering thing we breathe.
I cauterize my wounds without a flame,
leave my blood to blend with this old world.
It will remember me, as it becomes itself
and when I die a death alas, penultimate,
I am reborn amongst the mist of consciousness.
I will relinquish all that is not mine to hold
and force is my intention, not without grace.
For harmony is power, and I am faceless;
blessed with evanescence, shedding self.
I am dying, every day;
my feet disintegrate to ash
with every step
on my walk homeward.
When confronted with the inexplicable,
the human mind seeks to rationalize,
explain,
and fit information into an established worldview.
When confronted with the incomprehensible, the mind recoils.
It shrinks into and attempts to consume itself.
You cannot wrap self over self.
You cannot become the outer and the inner.
You are but a superposition of the visage of God;
a superficial reflection of divinity’s affection.
You cannot become the subconscious
of your subconscious.
You cannot become the intuition
of your intuition.
You can shed the mind and be present.
You can breathe and connect
and form a circuit between;
be a conduit for varying information
of different vibrations and intensities.
Form a loop that spells infinity.
This transition is the interstitium;
where information acts synaptic;
where transference relays occurrence
between two spaces with different interfaces.
It is elastic.
It is magic in liminal plastic,
snapping back and creating
the dialogue with self.
It is a circuit of convergence
where purpose meets inertia.
It is neither beginning nor end.
It is betwixt real and pretend.
It can upend the rend
of space and face;
time and place, and waste and worth.
It interweaves the world with dreams
and breathes new life into your needs.
It knows you without knowing anything.
It knows your feelings,
and the concepts you can’t speak.
It is your mind not minding.
Infinity across dividing.
I open up to my mother
she listens begrudgingly
but physically
cold shoulder
I point out her body language
she says I’m on the attack
I just want peace
but a cold war is still a war
He coughs all day to numb the pain
releasing it in clouds around him
every sound has a weight on my heart
and it never ends
I want to escape
but I’m frozen in place
and I’m not interested in playing pretend
Maybe ignorance is bliss and this
is suffering needlessly
I can’t escape
paralysis
except when I’m asleep
demons used to chase me
in the worlds inside my dreams
one day, i touched the bottom
surfaced from beneath the waters
woke but couldn’t move
at the end of my bed
a demon waited
so i sent waves of energy in its direction
and freed myself
even the most fearsome monsters
respond to these vibrations
is that how they see me?
certainly I’m no exception
It resonates, and it is a melody
in harmony with your song.
Youresonate,
and you write an ode to it.
You serenade it,
embody its energy,
match its frequency
with your whole being.
It resonates with you,
and it is a tune,
and you are complete.
You resonate with it
and you are open, empty,
ready to eat of its fruit;
become a part of it
as it becomes a part of you.
Am I too rigid in my windiness?
Am I too mutable to coalesce?
Too stuck on shifting with the breeze
to be mellifluous?
Am I a one man band
against a symphony
of endlessness?
I say it resonates,
but I’m expressed;
removed from zephyr
and born as breath.
A ‘more’, amor,
but nothing more
than breadth
without substance
my heart yearns
in shouts that span the sky
but i found love stumbling
into a hole in the wall
in a momentary interaction
vanishing
maybe there is hope for me yet
Was it satisfying to cut my tongue, to turn my words into weapons
To claim my pain was a scratch, when I yelled instead of joked
To treat me as a therapist and to ignore my troubles
Turning warm closeness into chilling distance
Each word making me an enemy, each one stripping my heart
Naively thinking it would pass and create bygones
All in a private and open space, and to be seen as a secret menace
With awkwardness and admissions as proof of a demon
Making sure all friendships far and near were uprooted from the earth
Saying you’re cutting me off but following my every move
The rotting food in my stomach, the ropes around my limbs
The monster can’t fight calmness without believing it is indeed a monster
Believed it was the destroyer, the potential criminal, the wolf
The lone wolf is not proud, but a starving animal
One doomed to exile for not agreeing with every pack’s hunts
She was a spitfire, a wild card, a daredevil
She was adventure and life in his eyes
He was trapped physically and mentally
But if he could find a way to ride passenger
The hunger for searching could finally rest
A decades old arachnophobia never quite leaves me
I can often brave many poisonous creatures
With a trusty cup and a wide napkin to fling them back to nature
But some will be too large even for me, too fast for my comfort
The inner ape overpowering, telling me to not risk a bite while asleep
While the logical, civil side vibrates as its pillars crumble
The stick no longer becomes a hand but now a sword
And the spider falls faster than Icarus
Yet I see its curled corpse shrivel and cast it away
How much smaller it seems in this light
How much worthier of an opponent it is
It’s a fearful creature and a terrified one
Facing off with a Goliath that stares constantly with immense size and speed
A life meant to eat thanks to a crafty mind and creative silk spinning
To thrive in darkness as both predator and prey
To be cut down by a glorified ape acting like a god
when the monsoon came
she cursed. She had been asking
those folks in the co-op
twiddling their thumbs and licking
the edges of their rupee notes
from the maintenance bills,
she’d ask them
to repair the terrace aching
and wheezing with water
from the early drizzles but
the treasurer preferred a Kashmir scarf
and the chairman a new scooter,
secretary painted his living room and added twenty rupees
for a samosa for the loyal watchman
and so she slept beneath flickering lights
hoping the wires didn’t blaze up,
consuming her whole.
-the problem with housing societies, Kelsey Ray Banerjee
forgotten,
egg yolk splits, sautées
golden sun between butter and pepper
white halo hardens, boils bubbling a leper browning
while the one yellow eye runs
with the clock hands
carefully I peel the rubbery flesh away
lay it on saucer, slather bread with butter
already wondering what wry churns the day brings.
-absentminded mornings, Kelsey Ray Banerjee
wind blistered water
stars collapse into redwood
love the outer ring
-family tree, Kelsey Ray Banerjee
hard roti
she complains with rolling pin fingers
tears the paper-thin bread
into scraps for dogs
you try again,
harder,
daalboiling beside you
softened tomato tipping over the lid
onto the steamed stove top,
red lentil water drowning out the flames.
you roll another roti,
slap it into the pan,
fuming with the scent of gasoline.
-roti, Kelsey Ray Banerjee
she handles memories like a crime scene,
each shared photograph shows
a clue -
oil stains on armchairs, misplaced magazines
she’d mistake a sob of despair
for laughter,
love for pity.
every remembrance she mars with red ink,
as if to tell her side of a story
that never existed.
-memories, Kelsey Ray Banerjee
