Two pills

Note: My journal here.

Two pills in my hand,
I don’t know which one to choose,
To help me decipher the world,
I need somebody to tell me what to do.

Logic and Emotion are two different people,
Like Sherlock Holmes and Kendrick Lamar,
Can find criminals and express hardships,
Kill criminals and frame laws.

Impossible for a person to be only one,
There can be only two.
Nothing is exclusive.

There’s a perfect balance to it,
That I do not know.



Note: My journal here.

Learn the art of broken pieces,
To mend broken cups, plates and pots,
Line it with lacquer mixed with gold.

Recognizing the history,
Repair but don’t disguise.
Embrace the damage,
For they are the fingerprints of its life.

Ceramic minds offer no insights,
It needs an iron hammer or just let it fall,
Now remove whatever is wrong.

The world will never forget your flaws,
Use them as armor,
And they can’t hurt you.

The Wisdom of Koalas

Note: My journal here.

Born to live a life of sleep,
Not living anymore in the jungles deep.
A façade of cuteness housing fiery instincts.
Deceiving humans among some other things.

Four hours a day at the dinner table,
Choosy in the eucalyptus leaves they eat,
Eating by night deaf to old Nan’s fables,
Sleeping by morning, listening to man’s beats.

Lonely Australian marsupials,
With a mild fortress in Brisbane,
Loved by all,
But left to die by a hypocritical disdain.

A day in the life of a crow

A crow flying back and forth,
Picking sticks and cotton both,
Building a nest on a branches crest,
Tired after the day’s work,
It decided it needed a rest.

It flies to a puddle brought by rain,
Hoping the water will ease away its pain.
A growl for flesh moves it the slaughterhouse,
Hoping to find something more exquisite than a dead mouse.

Adaptable and opportunistic,
Eats almost everything.
Eating carrions is not unrealistic.

A subject of myth and lore,
Stories born in Greece and Rome.
Bringers of message and rain.

12 Years of My Time

I was a girl sold by my parents to the old,

“It’s okay, you’ll be safe here”, they said,

Strange men did things to me till I bled,

They said they loved me and told me to say it back,

Or they hit me until my bones cracked.

I have never had a true home,

Sometimes I wish I had a clone,

No way to escape this Bulgarian prison of mine,

Sex and ecstasy were the only companions I had for the first 12 years of my time.

No other life I have ever known.

Life next to the Balkans has never been so cold.

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Swimming across the Atlantic is Adeline,
A savage beauty scarred by time,
Born in a world of great crime.

Capturing the hearts of men,
Imprisoning them in iron shackles,
Enslaving them for a lifetime.

The slaver of thousands,
A trader of flesh, a lover of gold,
O! She can be so cold.

Africa to the Americas, an oceanic journey of 10 weeks,
But doesn’t give birth any black envy,
To be bought and sold like any commodity,
Like sugar, tobacco or coffee.

Had a chance to fight back,
But the dark kings and lords wanted to fill their sacks.
Started by trading thieves, outlaws and war criminals,
Later seeking all the other Negros.
Brothers betrayed by brothers,
Traded for guns, goods and precious metals,
Also sold their moral code to the ships gutters.

Four square feet of space with the smell of dread,
Smaller than a coffin for the dead.
Treated like cattle,
Supported by the insane views of Aristotle.

Jumping ship when the chance arises,
They’d rather be dead bodies drifting in the Atlantic.
Soon to be dead beings, this is what the ship comprises.