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March of the Poet

Words on the page
Yeah, they made sense
Heck, they even had a little flow at the end

But who am I writing for?
Some narcissistic group of force-fed clones?
Where were they back when it was just me?
Back when there was nobody screaming my name
I was alone with my 3-ring
Man, I remember how it used to feel,
when I’d make that pen sing!

Sometimes I contemplate my fate
Did I sell my creative soul for a taste?
Just to chase the dollar sign
Yeah, I won’t lie
It can consume at night
Success is a double-edged sword
Both promising and debilitating

Yet, I march on
Words on the page
Yeah, they make sense
Heck they even have a little flow at the end
As I peck each key
I’m writing for humanity.





Photography: Photo by Patrick Tomasso on Unsplash

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What is Poetry? Part 2


What is Poetry? – Part 2

Poetry is the forsaken cry, the loneliest voices with the loudest minds,
captured in ink, blighted by drink, or bolstered,
emboldened with the bravado to think big,
to sing on a page,
to rage against the silence of days
spent drifting through the passive malaise,
the love of something and not for how it pays.

Poetry is the air up there, despair in the mind of a scribe
at not being able to fly, so it is
the flight of birds described by those who live in unknowns
to those who dream of being free.
Poetry is anything between a sucker punch or a long lunch,
a coupe de grace or a warm embrace.
It’s the lines of life in a face,
the wrinkled space between
never and eternity.

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A Wall of Debris

In the distance,
a wall of debris.
Cold, damp, sunless,
forgotten, even.
An ode to all the
undiscovered words,
misplaced souls,
deceased dreams–
Those arrested in
eternal winter.

How many have given up their lives due to the carelessness of others?
Aren’t we all just living some variation of the same story?
Why is it so easy to divide, judge, negatively compartmentalize?
Let us always remember each other’s humanness.
Then, maybe we will finally understand what it means to empathize.

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Morning Rituals

Every morning
Between bites
Of a buttery paratha
And gharam chai
I was reminded
By Ammi

Be nice to everyone
Say thank you and sorry
Remember your manners
Make sure you’re clean
Respect your teachers
Don’t give them a chance
To think
We’re bad
Only say how good religion is
We’re civilized
So they get this
Terrorist image out of their head

And I thought to myself
How funny that I have to convince
Others to treat me
See me like them

Like a human.