Calm.

Anonymous Artist

 

Cars moving in disorder,
something like the chaos in my head
but in harmony with the leaves
of branches hanging in dismay.

To seek more beauty,
I look up towards the dark horizon.
The grey clouds and the frightened birds,
shrilling across the skyline.

I’m so happy to see the world like it is,
that I would cry tears of joy.
Except I couldn’t,
and I shamed in the inability.

So nature took pity
and covered my face with tears from the sky,
soaking everything to deceive the imaginary
and explicate the real. 

The branches stopped and went to sleep,
so the people had to leave too.
But I didn’t, because I was not a dancer.
Only an observer. 

I felt happy, in that moment of stillness,
until stillness felt torturous.
And I turned towards my car,
longing to seek confusion anew.

 

A woman.

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“We All Fall Down” by Aykut Aydogdu

 

Her beauty lies within the petals,
Of her nasty talks,
Her constant nagging,
And her unaccountability for things.

Her beauty lies in
her diligent persistence,
her sincere affection
her calloused hands,
and her war with herself.

She smells like soap and scent
She smells like hardwork,
she tastes like lipstick
glazed with yeasted sweat.

Her swollen joints are painless,
her womb is numb.
Her bosom is a mere show,
to which her vulnerability succumb.

The baggage under her eyes
is heavier than her burden,
and deeper than
an ocean of sorrows.

Delve deep into them,
and you can swim inside
her vast mind, and her
endless presumptions.

She can never be a equal to man.
For man cannot compete
with this bizarre creature.
He will be left behind.
She is a senseless hag
for finding joy in sacrifices.

She is a woman.

 

Sukanya.
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