This anthology cabinets the self in memories of desires and dreads through the dialogues they instigate between the self, the seeming self and the aspirational self. These poems archive the self's quest to pertain and perpetuate love in the face of all odds (as well as, the odds that it faces in the quest of understanding and finding what love is), especially the likes that boomerangs back to one's self, considering the most nerve wrecking love story is the one we have to write with ourselves (when family, friends and lovers are out of the frame) and every breathe feels like a bird we need to tame. The poem document the negotiation for acceptance and peace in the face of the turmoil that the longing of desires instate and further the contemplations on what one seeks to rid one's self from the innate rage of being adrift from where and what one hopes to be.
The Prison of Guilt
The Prison of Guilt
I see the making of the cosmos
As I gaze into your eyes
Even though I know we're building these ties
In a house of cards standing on lies
I'm staring out the window as time flies
What baffles me the most is unveiling my disguise
I think, I know, I feel
The flux of my senses are real
I've pound myself within the seal
As there are words beneath my skin
Which I can never reveal
I'm locked in the prison of Guilt
which with my actions and their consequences
I've consciously built
The winds move the sky,
The birds liberally fly
And challenge the force of gravity
Which acts on me so vividly
As I fiddle beneath the parabola
Of parallel between myself and my seeming self
Sitting silently on a showcase shelf
Locked in the prison of guilt
which with my actions and their consequences
I've consciously built
I try to befriend others
And think of them as my fellow brothers
To share the pleasure of my existence
As well as the vain of my subsistence
But the latter subdues the former always
So I shun my own persistence
Because I'm locked in the prison of guilt
which with my actions and consequences
I've consciously built
I try to be a good son
cherish the memories when we were all one
Remembering the taste of love from my holy mum
And defending my tenderness by becoming numb
So now I find solace in being dumb
For those who pretend to know us are rarely some
I seek to find salvation from relishing the fun
Even though they say that my life has just begun
Everytime I eat, sip or inhale
I'm reminded of how gloriously I've failed
Hence I'm locked in the prison of guilt
which with my actions and consequences
I've consciously built
Though I don't plan to reside in it for eternity
I haven't mapped my escape yet
Instead with the light of my liberation, I've met
For everytime in peace I've slept
I've seen the rope of hope
Talking me into climbing it
To escape this drop of dope.
And I smile towards its pull to tell
That I'll succumb to you as a friend
Once my prison is converted to a palace
For yet to come infants...
-Ashraya Kant
Shame
Shame
I have no name,
no face, no possessions,
no time to stay
or wait for confessions
I am the drop you gulp in successions’
to the bolt in your spine.
I'm the voice suppressed
revolting my oppression,
I'm the noise of the city’s dawn
silent yet persistent in its expression,
my shrieks, moans or cries are never heard,
like stray dogs barking at a bird,
I'm the memory suppressed with indignition,
the one you refuse recognition.
-Ashraya Kant
If
If
If I could take your word for it, I would
but then I wonder if I could and if I should
for everytime I stood measuring the distance
between what I have and what I could
I might have taken a different stance
than I had and wouldn't question
the very grounds on which I stood,
for transitting stillness and stillness in transit
morphing and carving a cave in the hood
as the forests were flattened out
in the search of good wood
for all that is, needs to be carved
under the pretense of what brood
though it begs me to question if it should
if only it could
-Ashraya Kant
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