Identity Poems

I am me, but I am not Inside of me, is another me I believe this other me, is also me This me has slumbered for a long time I think this me is also me, or maybe the real

My body has shredded all skin, no more wild blood shooting in. Running out of its fuel, I feel. There are only bones everywhere I touch & nothing, nothing else left. It is a demeanor, I never chose to be

(1) The door; out of it there is everything; Flags and noise, traffic policemen, temptation apples, toothy eyes, ears calculating breath bangs, tinny moon counting steps, cheeks flowering with love ready to pass to oblivion, flattering choruses, cola tans, gay

Why should I be a trophy to adorn your shelves? Why should I be a kite with a broken string? Why should my flight be halted? Why should I mount the altar of martyrdom? Why should I not bare my

Being a girl, what is it like? No! You can’t be out late, you can’t ride a bike Don’t party hard, keep the boys at bay You have all the freedom, they say… But, why then are our choices already

I woke up to something Something like a shout. Shout they did Or did they? No, it’s not, Not another title am I under! Under someone’s definition though I stand Wanting freedom Freedom from what? I want freedom Freedom from

[VERSE I – Desperation] With the eyes that cannot see, Behind a mind that always dreams. Came the world shaped in black, Torn apart at the seams. With the ears that cannot hear, All the lies and darkest fears. Came

Being a girl, what is it like? No! You can’t be out late, you can’t ride a bike Don’t party hard, keep the boys at bay You have all the freedom they say But why then are our choices already

When I die, Bury me in those pages, Which failed to become My identity, my stages. Let me lie close To those verses, Those prose, Which never truly dealt With the emotions I felt. In my death Let me be

I always wonder if the world we live in, would ever get right, the meaning of identity, For, it believes each of us is a race horse, trained just the way it wills us to be – “Girls your age,

You can’t walk down those halls again they don’t smell right your blood chemistry has shifted no longer fearing a foreign language exam except in those dreams which creep in from umber corners reach out skeletal fingers to fuse the

All hail the King who gives thee numbers. Those who fear him shall stand beside him, And laugh with him, Only to be crushed by him like all other unsatisfactory numbers. Faces upon faces upon names upon names, Thrown into

Much can be said But we speak in hushed tones Curt with our responses Hiding behind the wall of vulnerability We hold our breaths in anticipation Who will be the first to crack ? Unsightly in the walls of protection

In the womb of a test tube the male conjugates with the female, to germinate the genesis of a genus In a petri dish under the optics of a microscope a genetic engineer denudes and rapes the genus with a

A big red box, my suitcase, tucked under my bed. Is the box merely a box? No, I’m afraid. Bearing throws, bearing blows, bearing scratches, sporting patches. Generously forgiving, my wheeled travel companion, emerging to unite with me on the

She came into this world with a healthy loud cry. She was so very excited but, things looked awry. There were no happy smiles to greet her arrival., She had no clue, she had caused such upheaval. She was not

The biggest discredit to one’s own self is to not be ‘ yourself ’. To strive to be like someone is the biggest injustice, ever done. To be your own biggest critic. To judge with an impossible yardstick. To never

Tied at the four corners, Knotted so tight, Unable to disentangle, Nauseated they feel, The Four feathers. Flowing tresses in the wind, Blowing in the wondrous spring, Balancing toes with the sing, Spreading arms to enfold, The moments to devour;

Facing the wrath of the blazing Sun, She, with her tangled hair, toothy smile, deeply lined face ; in a coarse cotton and battered bag, walks through the lofty gates of a mansion ; A fine blend of art, wealth

What is my existence? Am I just a mere substance or a thing of pleasure? Am I just a homemaker or just a refuge seeker? In this world of masks I am left with just a veil. I see this

Let us fly , fly like a dove , In the sky , sky of love , Hand in hand , With no aim to land , Until our soul gets free from this cage of sand . Let us

Far away from mankind and society, far I wandered. Through bleak plains and screeching drums, Dragging along my body, weary from the residues of development, My eyes are sore from enduring all this mortal architecture that’s slowly diminishing in my rear

Will you bring me back? Will you,When I am on the verge of leaving this world? Sorrow doesn’t grieve me anymore; All my happiness-I have already sold. I have exercised an unidentified, reluctant approval, Accepting all that the world has

My god’s bigger than your god! no! my god’s bigger than your god! therefore my god can beat up your god! isn’t that what gods are all about? isn’t that what gods are for? to beat each other up- you

And now you sit dumbstruck, being a vivid orthodox lion, you speak to the world that you are too sweet, with your creative and imagining mind. But I tell you child, ‘dreaming’ and ‘imagining’ are not synonymous words. They stand

As I stare at the empty skies, I hear myself amidst the solitude of night. I close my eyes and think deep About my faith and identity at risk. I am caught in the whirlwind of emotions, Fear, anger, desire

Fight me,here I stand, In your costly possessed land, Which you incurred by fate, But I incurred by hard faith. You were gifted the golden throne, But I was gifted your half eaten bone, Still I stand in your possessed

I witnessed the death of the universe… Tumbling, crushing, spinning in the maddening chaos of the spiral Time! Eternity… ceased to exist, Time… was no more, my soul ripped asunder the stars… show no more! Pleading internally I succumb my

She lifted me gently in her arms, Smiles and warmth all around, She cuddled me closer to her chest, Humming a lullaby that resounds even today, She looked at me in the eye, Her words were soft and divine, Her

I was surprised To see that person Busy with repairing Old things in his shop. Smart and courageous From face to his heart Respect towards customers With a calm and smiley face. How powerful and energetic His thought to self

Drowning her children back in her womb, a big tear rolls down the cheek of earth. She was sitting on broken bones to watch the terror, ear for ear to listen, eye for eye to see. Hope was becoming ephemeral.

It all seems important until someone doesn’t remember the squabbling plans of a coven of third grade girls to torment a classmate each with a thick red pencil sharpened for poking each put together as glossy as a nine-year old

I hate, I hurt, I pain, and I ache so deeply. I feel rage, angst, like a piece of dirt, so much of the time, I’ve also tasted the tenderness of love, I’ve heard the howls of hate, I’ve slept

Standing alone here, As a porcelain doll On me have taken a toll All those years Of shed tears In being what they wanted me to I hid my identity true And now I stand here bemused Finding it tough

Who am I? I mull over my identity… And I ponder Each one of us in this society, Belongs to a ‘religion’… To a set or a group, And each set of people Have their ‘rules of conduct’ Have own

I never knew that one day would be there When I would ask my existence from you One day I would beg you to apply vermilion on my forehead To name my child, to change my identity.. One day that

I want a Tuesday kind of love. The sort of thing that involves little dreaming and scheming; the sort of thing that comes paired with too-strong coffee and too-loud songbirds and the drone of the news at 6 a.m. or

A blossom plant From distant yard Whispered in grief To the flies around : Would you love With same delight When I grow Gray from green? A Sparrow, chirps With perplexed gaze, From profound pride To none but air In

Ouroboros is its own meal The same is true with Those from own country that steal! To hamstrung the incumbent Most party members are not hesitant. Ouroboros,they adore their party, Which they obliviously or Otherwise sully with A rent-seeking identity.

The Bygone years seldom had couple breaking up That was the period when intimacy meant sex and the couple had plenty of it too with off springs springing up too often having hardly a year gap between them Lady was