Akratiisalive - Mad Heart, Be Brave

Can I please be added to your taglist?🥺

heyyy star!! yes for sure<3333

hey guys! hope you all are doing good and/or manifesting the good times. i just wanted to notify you that since my exams will be starting from next week and the coming months this year will be very busy, i may have to go on a semi-hiatus. which means, i will be posting my works but not very regularly and might not be active as much, but just for a couple of months. posts will be queued. since my blog is not going anywhere, you can always wander around my works, maybe reblog them if you like them.

i also have been very creatively deprived recently. but, have been trying to cherish it as well. that being said, i wanted to ask if you guys would like to read something on your prompts? the prompt could be anything ranging from prose to poetry, from specifically instructed starting and/or ending to a loose motif, from imagines of some alternate reality to the mundanity of our lives. by all means, you can go wild in my ask box and post as many as you want, whenever you want. it might take me a little while to get to them but i will do my best to meet your expectations. i hope you drop by and say hello!

-best,

akrati xx

(i am so scared about this post i know hardly anybody cares but i wanted to as well)

tag list under the cut (shoot an ask to be added or removed!):

@ruins-of-heart @a-moonlit-poet @rottensummerlove @it-is-what-it-it-iss @kajukatliontop @nochampagneonlyproblems @champagnesrush @mydogisgaytoo @lilhappylilsad @ch3rryblo55oms @jules-hazard @eveesque @wigilda @theazurepoet @star-dust-2317 @catguin-the-kitty-cat @kittywritesmistress @a-smart-dumbass (why isn't this working)

transcript and tag-list under the cut!

still in these streets, water doesn’t wash up/ the clothes on the clotheslines/ the denial in sun’s warmth is visible at noon/ when it’s invisible in its own light/ the language of all is hurling to their/ destination’s child. // still in these streets the girl runs around/ in the brisk of moonlight/ the helium in her brother’s balloons/ comes at the cost of God’s shrilling cries./ all her lovers hop away from her/ favourite rhymes.// still in these streets the dogs pet/ their parents with a wry smile/ cigarettes fall in the grass after hushing the conversations of lovers around midnight/ films reel at the town hall/ haunting the elder’s sight. // still in these streets the clouds/ don’t hold back tears when the young dies/ still the the general store doesn’t open all night/ still in these streets, my parents walk alike.

taglist: @ruins-of-heart @a-moonlit-poet @bedfordhealyx @it-is-what-it-it-iss @kajukatliontop @nochampagneonlyproblems @sifaaarish @mydogisgaytoo @lilhappylilsad @cherryblossom @parihumay @jules-hazard @eveesque @wigilda @theazurepoet @cloudlessnightssleeplessfight @catguinstudies @a-smart-dumbass @anarchist-therapist @sweetbutwhateverbaby

please feel free to send an ask to be added or removed!<3

taglist and transcript under the cut!

grief is a mother

grief is a mother that sits with the birds/ early morning in the graveyard/ pouring water over the rained ground./ she sits & thinks & larps over the plants/ that rise above her child’s grave. thunder/ is what she bequeaths before coming home.// home of hers is a rotten kitchen/ where the tiles shine of blood & tears wipe them, where the knives/ don’t know of the cabinet,/ & the spices rot within 20 days./ she stands behind the counter and/ serves the morning soup for two./ gets up & wipes the tears;/ she lets the blood cook the soup.// grief is a mother waiting/ for an unchained daughter./ she rubs the blanket to her feet at night,/ thinks of Spring with the crib of her/ moonchild. a daughter, an unholy wound;/ she dreams of churches and hears/ high pitched snores. snores of another with whom she shares her warmth/ that brings her wishes/ & a means to ponder along.// grief is a mother with an early scar./ each afternoon, in the quiet she drowns/ in her mother’s womb. soaking inside the sac, hands entwined, she rises to practice the/ eulogy she failed. with each breath,/ she dies of the blood that runs in her veins.// grief is a mother with a damp rug,/igniting fires for lives to cradle;/ a mother that sings in whispers by the burrow. calling upon the heathens, she mourns the death of her tears./ grief is a mother that lives/ in the memory of mothers.

taglist: @ruins-of-heart @a-moonlit-poet @bedfordhealyx @it-is-what-it-it-iss @kajukatliontop @nochampagneonlyproblems @stewywhoresseni @mydogisgaytoo @lilhappylilsad @cherryblossom @parihumay @jules-hazard @eveesque @wigilda @theazurepoet @cloudlessnightsleeplessfight @catguinstudies @a-smart-dumbass

transcript and taglist under the cut-

a mother’s defying, a mother’s demise.

most days,/ he doesn't swim in his grief. he sleeps on it,/ only to wake up with misery underneath him,/ hugging his torso, grasping his neck./ he says, clenching his hands to the bark of the neem tree,/ "my mother has left me in the backyard to sleep with no place to bury her"/ so, he is carrying her around on his tongue/ between the words he swallows and/ the food he spits out.// on the road are children throwing rocks at trains,/ a man hiding his guilt from the view, not letting it drift away/ as he cups his hands to light a cigarette./ holstering himself to the kitchen window, / the boy longs for the freedom of the man./ a rush of noise, he longs to scream:/ an act of expressing where he needn't pick a language.// her bed is made before he calls it a night./ he finds the same next day at 7./ most days,/ it feels as if she hasn't abandoned the walls./ the water in the taps still runs its course through the right drain./ it's as if she intended for him to suffocate in the mundane.// so, he tugs under her quilt she left to dry in the backyard/ the boy sleeps with the sound of crickets/ canceling the occasional unrest from the train tracks,/ canceling the occasional unrest from her mother's dreams.

tag list:

@ruins-of-heart @some-broken-words @rottensummerlove @floralbeast @kajukatliontop @nochampagneonlyproblems @riskanothergoodbye13 @hoeliterature @it-is-what-it-it-iss @mydogisgaytoo @lilhappylilsad (still not working????????)

should i like post a poem im not very proud of but has some stuff that i think i have never written like or wait to have a mentally deranged absolutely soul crushing experience and then write about it and post its watered down version?

I would love to be healed

if you’d touch me,

But I wouldn’t be all the same.

So would you love me healed

or have you learned to adjust

in my broken crevices?

Do they still leave a mark deeper than paper cuts

or are you numb to all the succumbing

my nightmares brought you to?

- @akratiisalive

standing by her mother in the kitchen,

she plays around with knives and spoons.

her mother refrains, she puts them back;

gazing graciously, her eyes linger upon the stove-

four feet is all, she tiptoes

a little closer: steam's up to her face.

she sees the color-

dazzling brown with a tint of red.

tastes saliva, she can feel the cardamom,

though too small to even boil the water.

her steps pace the kitchen,

a frown lingers upon her head,

"what are you cooking, mama?"

"your brother's favorite."

- @akratiisalive

taglist and transcript under the cut!

grief is a mother

grief is a mother that sits with the birds/ early morning in the graveyard/ pouring water over the rained ground./ she sits & thinks & larps over the plants/ that rise above her child’s grave. thunder/ is what she bequeaths before coming home.// home of hers is a rotten kitchen/ where the tiles shine of blood & tears wipe them, where the knives/ don’t know of the cabinet,/ & the spices rot within 20 days./ she stands behind the counter and/ serves the morning soup for two./ gets up & wipes the tears;/ she lets the blood cook the soup.// grief is a mother waiting/ for an unchained daughter./ she rubs the blanket to her feet at night,/ thinks of Spring with the crib of her/ moonchild. a daughter, an unholy wound;/ she dreams of churches and hears/ high pitched snores. snores of another with whom she shares her warmth/ that brings her wishes/ & a means to ponder along.// grief is a mother with an early scar./ each afternoon, in the quiet she drowns/ in her mother’s womb. soaking inside the sac, hands entwined, she rises to practice the/ eulogy she failed. with each breath,/ she dies of the blood that runs in her veins.// grief is a mother with a damp rug,/igniting fires for lives to cradle;/ a mother that sings in whispers by the burrow. calling upon the heathens, she mourns the death of her tears./ grief is a mother that lives/ in the memory of mothers.

taglist: @ruins-of-heart @a-moonlit-poet @bedfordhealyx @it-is-what-it-it-iss @kajukatliontop @nochampagneonlyproblems @stewywhoresseni @mydogisgaytoo @lilhappylilsad @cherryblossom @parihumay @jules-hazard @eveesque @wigilda @theazurepoet @cloudlessnightsleeplessfight @catguinstudies @a-smart-dumbass

Heyaa bestiee how ya doing?? Been so long we haven't talked

Sending ur way much love and care ❤💕💖🌸🌻🌹🌷🌼💐🤗

Also, as much as i enjoy reading your work i freaking love the way you speak.

Take care ly❣

romaaaaaaaaa how r u? how have u been? u won’t believe this but yesterday only i was thinking about u and i was hoping we could have met on sept 4 :( but um we will meet soon i hope. i have been okay-ish. still processing what game cbse is playing with us now plus these covid cases are making everything seem so uncertain but fingers crossed, hoping for the best for all of us. thank you so much all credit goes to the ones who have so generously put their efforts into me aka the teachers. hope u eat something fun today and we experience rain!! xx