Thoughts to Words

Life is too short to be demeaned by toxic positivity, cut me some slack because when there is a real problem with my mental health I take the responsibility to heal myself by addressing the illness first. Optimism is in the rulebook and a part of my routine too but the idea is not to exploit its usage by bombarding one-liners to shoo away the acknowledgement of the wound. Seeking help to lead a healthier life (physically, mentally and spiritually) is a human right. On humanitarian grounds, be kind and patient to LISTEN because off late good listeners are missing in action. ©songbriti

You ever felt out of breath? Multiply this feeling with infinity and that is literally how it feels when I cannot write. Pale, a feeling so colourless. My words are turning pale and the odds are not in my favour. I want to be able to write about the tangerine sky and about the white orchids calling out to me from the hills I grew up in. I want to able to sketch my heartbreak into a poem that dissects my tears into metaphors explaining the anatomy of pain. I want to be able to write the lyrics for the melody in a child's innocent eyes, a farmer's hard work, a soldier's day with her family, a friend's jokes...the list goes on. I can laugh, I can cry, I can do all of that in neat shots distilled like the water in Victoria Falls but the inability to write pushes my universe into a black hole. It does not end there, when I force words on paper it turns into a futile rhetoric with superficial aroma and this artificiality is harmful for my health, I feel sick when I get down

Old Monk is the happiness I would sell my Ferrari for...not in cash but in kind... it is the obvious yeah, revise it. Exchanging my luxury for a responsible addiction. Put your hands together for the liquor that makes love to my trips and sends signals of ecstasy into my blood. Why be anonymous and hide your kind of high? Politically incorrect is the black I comfortably fit into. Flying to Europe or Mars could cost me my kidneys, chugging that rum under a sky where stars couldn't care less about me is slow poisoning my liver but I am on cloud nine, a fair amount to pay for the experience. Stars are 'bling bling' in appearance and the shine they display is moral policing. Granny's is up there as one of them and she would have questioned her parenting skills if I offered to high five my glass with hers over pegs playing piano in my head. Piano, drums, guitar (acoustic) doing a salsa. Group salsa, team assignments... Hdkksssgfjrrllrlsvdbmd. Kskskslaejdsndhkjsksksllsllsl

Stapled between documents, a dissatisfied husband, a tired wife, a confused child being juggled, sacrifices and ego clashes, poorly constructed brickworks bringing down false ceilings, adjustments renovated. The bed is comfortable with roses, extramarital affairs are getaways, look at this truth as finding a home away from home? failed marriages are devastated boats, what can you do with ruins anyway? why be an anchor to drowning? a marriage is a relationship, a relationship is not a noose, seven knots, three trials, what next... fire to pyre? paying a debt for an assumed asset turned liability? ©songbriti

Light up a star for me, burn me in its lap, a wannabe phoenix, a parody of disasters, dimes on my corpse, snowing in acres, acres of space, gaze after gaze, peddling sunny nights, the dead moon, pulls in all of me, in grasses having a darker side. ©songbriti

Echoes of pearls, crab's noose, sharks lined up, a cruise wrecked, iceberg drinks scotch, the seabed swings, unkempt stories, settle on the shores, dispersed dandelions, sing a folklore, thunderbolt jamming, drums of heaven? ©songbriti

Admiration costs a fortune. I stalked her, kidnapped her and when I broke her I arranged a pitcher to keep all of her in frozen cubes. I was better off as a loner. She shouldn't have been a trespasser, bringing out the obsession in my fangs. The sea is my land and the lighthouse is my private jet. Salt water tastes of fire when I throw a part of her into it. I love the winter peeping through her helplessness. She sweats like bold wine and I loot the barrel to make her mine. When a bunch of halfwits came to look for her, my hell trained dog had a good dinner. Their meat was light and healthy. Nutrition is a must for loyalty. A good person, a bad person... binaries were rotting, ergo the trash is in the dump. The sky is a pimp and the offers he puts forth are tempting but her flawless beauty is not for sale. ©songbriti

Left stranded in scarcity, delving deeper, rocks searing, muddy hands, muscles bearing fatigue, regrets bloating, spades calling out acts of ignorance, faucets warning alarmingly, generations at risk. Harvest mindfulness, preserve raindrops, planet Earth in crisis. ©songbriti