NaPoWriMo: Day 5

I thought a lot about the optional prompts and I’ve decided not to follow the ones for days 5 and 6. Here instead is a poem that has been in the works for a while now. I call it orgasmic.

This is a very incomplete yet sorted list of words (currently standing at 150) that I have been collecting for some time now. They are stunning and feel so incredibly good as they pass from between your lips

I’ve broken them up in the style in which I like to read them out loud. Speaking of reading out loud, please do it. Feel the words in your mouths, savor them. And if you don’t like the sound of your own voice, ask someone else to read it out to you. The power, the sensuality, the intensity… there is nothing like it.

day 5

(I hope anyone read this enjoys words as much as I do. I’ll probably post more poems in the same vein soon. Words are some of the prettiest things to exist and no matter what language you speak, I’m sure there are words/phrases/gestures/characters/intonations etc to fall in love with. Language is one of the greatest human triumphs, isn’t it?)




I’m trying to put all of my poetry here, just for the ease of access.

This is an old one, written for Nick Drake, an incredible folk singer from the ’60s, whose music kept me afloat in times I didn’t want to be. I owe Nick much of my life, and while we never shared a moment of co-existence, I’m so grateful for Nicholas Rodney Drake and so, so in love with him.



NaPoWriMo: Day 4


I lasted one day.

This has to be a record even for me. I’m motivated, nonetheless. And although I’ll probably end up Arthur Shappey-ing my way through this month, as long as I have 30 (if not more) poems to show by the end of it, I’ll be happy!

I’m going to try and write 3 poems today, and day four was a great place to start since I love the prompt(write about the cruelest month). So here it is!

This particular poem comes from the fact that I will be meeting the person I was in love with (and who was my best friend) in December and I’m already anxious. I am afraid that I’ll start feeling how I used to and even more afraid that I might not.

day 4

(AND I just realized that everything seems to have jarring romantic overtones. Not that romantic overtones are bad, it’s just slightly disconcerting for me to write all this stuff in the current mental state that I am in. It’ll probably fade away in a bit. At least that’s what I’m hoping)


NaPoWriMo: Day 1

Goodness, it’s been so long since I’ve written a blog post. Years, I think. These days I don’t even type much on tumblr. It’s hard to get into the habit of writing again. Right now, as I type, I can feel an itch building under my skin, trying to take me away from this site. However, this time I’m not giving up that easy. For the first time in my life, I’m participating in NaPoWriMo. This is the most ambitious thing I’ve ever tried, writing wise, and I’m not sure I can stick with it.

But goddammit, I’m gonna try.

Today’s optional theme was a lune – I didn’t stick with it. Instead I’ve written about being ready to love. It took me far too much time to get over someone I loved dearly, but now that I have, I can’t wait to fall in love again. Only this time, I hope it ends well.


day 1


Death and dignity

It was raining the night she died.

A part of me hopes that she was able to hear the pitter patter of the rain amidst the beeps and hums of the hospital. A bigger part of me hopes that she died knowing that she was loved and cared for.

I hope she died with dignity, because she wasn’t cremated with any.

I’ve never been one for the rituals and customs. Ever since i rejected religion they seem even more absurd. What I do understand is that death leaves behind a corpse that is meant to be treated with respect. The absence of a sound mind is not permission to gawk, to dress it in reds that will never be seen by those eyes, to smear color over faces and hands, to make them look like brides because they died married. Because it is a matter of pride that they died before their husbands.

That is not respect.

It’s not.

Laying her out for everyone to see when you know how conscious she was  of the way she looked, especially after all those rounds of chemo. I knew her; she was my aunt and despite all the bad and the ugly that went down, I loved her. And she would have hated everything that happened.

What meaning to these customs hold anyway? What is gone is gone. If a soul is anything like energy, it has already dissipated. Waves and photons, traversing galaxies, the soul has left the building.

At least let her body leave in peace.

Respect who she was, the woman that lived with a broken body most of her life, who wanted to live so, so badly.

Don’t come and express your sympathy, don’t cry louder because someone else started crying. Don’t talk over and over about how she must be in a better place now. We are all hoping the same. if you really care, don’t take photos of her lying there; Go talk to my mother, who has to see her little sister’s motionless corpse be taken for cremation.

Talk to her husband who spend years trying to do the best and it wasn’t enough. Its never enough.

Talk to her children, who have to spend the rest of their lives without her. It doesn’t matter how old you are, you always need your mom.

Talk to me. Or better yet, just stay quiet.

At least let her lay in peace.


It was raining when they took her away, covered in flowers as dead as she. She lived in pain and chaos, I hope the afterlife treats her better.