Akratiisalive - Mad Heart, Be Brave

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

One poem that’s all i read of yours ….” Home wrecker “

how-

is-

how is it possible someone writes so damn awesome

hands down just ugh *chef kisses*

so good

i'm so glad u liked it <333

heyy cann i be added to ur taglist?

hey yes for sure! u r added<33

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????????)

transcript and taglist under the cut (send an ask to be added or removed):

Likes and REBLOGS are more than appreciated!

Home- wrecker

home-wrecker! your devoid/ awaits my freedom./ seventeen and sucking the dirt/ out of your newspapers:/ annihilating a mother’s only successor.// the aftertaste of your/ sweet breakfast: there/ is another political argument/ i do not want to fight./ your lips so unsealed,/ i almost divide.// the khaki pants,/ the leather chappals;/ in your dreamland,/ i am burrowing the glass dirt./ in your dreamland,/ you are excavating the cause’s birth.// i see your fingers placed/ evenly on the knife,/ a firm grip on the pink onion,/ too tight sometimes./ the stretch of the thumb/ is eluding the blade;/ the blade so clear/ we prick each other’s face. // an apple pudding,/ a national plight,/ i heard you singing/ in the shower tonight,/ i heard you escaping/ from the waters tonight. // i unmake your bed before/ the bell chimes 8./ your silver- worn hands/ hold me at a caressing stake./ the dreams,/ if not forgotten,/ hold a near distant reality:/ i am holding your breath in my wake.

taglist

@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( not working?)

hey there! 💙💜 i like your poetry immensely, could you add me to your taglist? :)

omg hi!! i love your work too ur blog seems such a safe space. thank you so much it’d be my pleasure to add u<333

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