mayday_calls

this summer, less of the Sun, more like a circuit, i'm in the memory of the saddest spring, flowers, godly showers,  pale scleras, red outlines, shifting iris in the gloom, "fuck this tragedy, god please say , you're lying!"  the world where  i could touch and  tour your transitions is thriving in my psalms, i can now sense your slow-steady silence  for the teen who grew into a child in your arms ? no one will ever  scrutinize the dices  i threw in the gamble, no one will ever  neutralize the darnels  you grew in the sanctum, sealed mouths look prettier than the  thoughtless tongues, healing hedgehogs  survive better than the hollowed heathens, choosing the delicacy  of the choice when you  chose me was the  first choice of your life , losing the fear of losing someone is the  last loss of my life. dear spring , summer  and saline suffering, will i survive succeeding  shedding season? - chetna 🌻 

I loved the picture, picture in my head, head, full of tomorrow, tomorrow, lacking breath, breath, whirling in our home, home built by our blood, blood we spilled on the floor, floor, still recalling footprints, footprints, of us and our child, child, who's in the lap of God, God, the twin of our death, death dreaming in clouds, cloud crucified by chance, chance gifted in the dark, dark kneeling on the face, face rolling on stones, stone or mask for the world, world incompetent for our son, our son or ending of this poem, poem, sending scripts to stars , stars , about to glisten our love, love, shadowed on the picture, picture dead in my head , i said picture in my head. - chetna 🌻 

the room , saturated with  claps, your punchlines, has been left haunted,  it never smiles any more, sobbing sirens in the home  occluding the silence of joy, what does this turbulence sign ? the sky, so green, red and dusky, bland, violet and blue, rains you sent back to us  within a week felt so true, forever, favourite, fresh and  filled are now the worst skies, what does this weather sign? parting ways, untold farewells, waiting till the last hope dwells, praying to gods, unfiltered grief, throbbing hard till it turns stiff, sending you, so away, far away, we could not qualify this time, what does this inability sign ? father , what are these signs ? - chetna 🌻 

my name in the fire  altar is their seventh benefit, my imprint, that too, in the grey list is their sixth benefit, my heat ready to fuel  solar flares is their fifth benefit, my relics to exemplify the religious roar is their fourth benefit, my wax mineralising the  town's light is their third benefit, my pulse stifling some  barking echoes is their second benefit, but if i am the first one , what are the benefits? - chetna 🌻 

this yellow is shredding  its sunlit shine and stones, this time is shrinking  its ability to digest formality, this liquor is sparkling  its distress in the light of grief, this circus is sprinkling  its weight of irrelevant sphere,  the god is blessing chemicals  on my tiny pores of dull skin, the god is sitting on your  eye lashes to taste the salt, the god is obsessed with the  blood of lips when you bite so hard, i think, the god is falling out of  the story he had begun to write, never mind, my words are still  lighter than your aching heart, your moons and magnitudes are stumbling over my last energies, let the god take the test of  our theism till time wants, let the god check the steer  of my pores and your blood, but the fault lies  in the grace of torture  this trembled truth carries, in the delicacy of statue  this physical heat adored  us when we didn't ask for it, where does the fault lie? i'm ...

this litany of  the unchosen fate, the unkindled face, the unholy faith, is the unreal destiny, this fantasy of  the indecisive trap, the invisible trait, the insincere trade, is the insane ecstasy, this fallacy of  the dishonest poetry, the disagreed penalty, the disordered prophecy, is the dismantled legacy. - chetna 🌻 

a life , so big then, but so small now, smaller than the  vacuum of my fist, but we could not  hold you,  please forgive us , we will preserve you  till all the next lives, please stay with us. i write for the pyre, for the ashes, for the  weathered, for the dead, but never about the  force of the universe  which overpowered  our will to keep you with us more please forgive us. what's gone is  gone forever, what's slipped  out of the grip  is slipped forever, what's written in  the manuscript  of nature is  written forever, but why did gods and  goddesses of life need you to justify this law of mortality ? did we fail to pray and conserve you  or did they learn  about your generosity  way earlier than us? please forgive us. thanks for marrying  our mother , thanks for the vows  you made and paid  off until you died,  thanks for the roof under which you  built a homely world...

i think, i have prayed  only to love you, will ever conspire  to be with you,  even without you, my eyes recognize  only shadows of you, orphaned, wanting to  be fostered by you, under the new or  blue or full moon, as i prayed for you. i think  i have prayed  only to fall for you, will ever dive in energies of you, if i get a piece  or full body of you, my eyes recognize  only two sinless  survivors to be  cradled by the silence  carved by me and you, as i prayed for you. i think, i have prayed  only desire for you, will ever choose  to sublet my roof, be colonized by you, my eyes recognize  only the atomicity  of my life and you,  to begin again with you, drowned in floods  still sanctifying you, as i prayed for you. yes i prayed right  for you, to worship you. - chetna 🌻 

we have thrived  our different pains in  different backgrounds, you kneel down  to warm cold ashes  of your regret  i am glaring at your buoyant eyes but frozen in wounds,       "once your green         and my blue veins         blended in our skins         to colour us sanguine," now pieces of stones  block the conduit  of my blood flow, our suns of old spring  sent clouds down to the earth to soak our  slate hearts in the need for bright skies  but i am standing fragile  on the horizon our  suns can no longer know, my prayers can never rise above my own  grief like bricks held tight in cements, you were the only  to de-calcify the  unsaid and unheard  mounts of laments, you're still sitting on knees , i'm not yet done carving my  gloom in your eyes.  - chetna 🌻 

bone-cold and damp  or hot and dry  should be the road  to my home ? fresh and floral or clenched and closed should be the door if you anyhow reach the home? my eyes are routes, my cheeks are home  if you could ever turn  this grey back to yellow. i keep no curtains  as my windows had always been closed, you once cut the bone, rinsed my skullless  soul and held me close, but now i'm lingering  to have you only in prose, your this lost right  would be restored, our dancing feet would feel the cold floor if you could ever turn  this grey back to yellow. stop knocking at the  door, do not fuel my  fantasies anymore, i want to press my breaths too through the peephole, but no, please start  marching back to the town  where you came from ,  the spirit of the spring  is washed down in the doldrums and downpours, your spilled secret of  the Sun and my darkened star would meet again if you could ever turn ...