person Arushi Singh, two poems

A passionate writer and literature enthusiast, Arushi Singh has been experimenting with free style poetry for a few years. She is from Delhi, India, and is currently studying literature at Mount Carmel College, Bangalore.  She has had her poetry published in magazines like Page and Spine, Literary Yard, One Sentence Poems, Fourth and Sycamore and others.  Her first poetry collection, Deviant: the obscenity of truth, is available on Amazon.



it was ten minutes since they said my mother was
“probably dead”
Whereas, we walked on bomb craters to find our way back to the
Skeleton of our home
Whereas, it was dark then, it is dark now
Whereas, the ribbons from my gaypride flag exploded in his ears
Whereas, life was lonely when you took it
Whereas, loneliness is still a heartbeat of the soul
Whereas, dreams were still dreams if you woke into them
Whereas, he was perched on a window, naked and done, ready to take flight
Whereas, what if I told you my biggest regret was the lovers I never had
Whereas, I walked the path slowly, tread carefully baby, life is hard.
Whereas, I was a ribbon tied into a bow while around a watch with a time bomb hidden in it
Whereas, I reached for horizon, just a bit too slow
Whereas, I was supposed to read now – writing was hard
Whereas, I was a minimalist of words- so mother’s eulogy was short
Whereas, we finally reached the door, standing upright, as if it wasn’t all that stood between me and mother’s corpse
Whereas, grandmother once told us that they would sometimes lift a child by his (her) legs and turn slowly
Whereas, these were fragments from the collection of toilet paper bits I tore into homes
for the unsheltered
Whereas, I was smelling when the fire split my left side into strips of gold
Whereas, my favourite teacher spilt my agonies into his friend’s ears the way a blood spills the streets of the east
so cold- so neat
Whereas, I was dying then, I am dying now
Whereas, it was time of the day when it was a rainbow seven colours painted onto the sky as if why
Whereas, I was a Howl away from King Solomon’s bloodied throne
I was a slave then (yes), the king asked me to wipe the blood off his feet
Whereas, I was slowly inching towards the edge of my morality, I was a kiss without a home
Whereas, mother always told me- “it’s not a lie if you believe it”
Whereas, I was screaming then, I am screaming now
Whereas, what happened?-



Ode to Beautiful Men

                                      Who smiled across the street only to be caught
                              Stoned in between the river
            Of pot and endless love
Who stepped on doorways of corporate and industrial
          Growth capital capitalism capitalisation growing in her master’s pants
Who stripped naked in wildfire and jumped with obscene lines
              Trials and homosexuality
Who howled howled howled pleading officer’s belts for another
Who beaten at 5 raped at 7 stolen at 15 alcoholic at 21
            And saviour at 27
Who tread the path of Ginsberg stepping on thorns
          Of obscenity trials with songs of cock and endless balls
Who climb on women with a screwdriver looking for the hinges
          Waiting to heal
Who covered in Bangalore loved in Delhi swam in Mumbai and
          Fixed in Goa
Who loved other men to piss off an angry god to piss off the universe
          As the shit hit the fan
Who beaten bruised battered breaking bones to belittle black bars
    Of prison in party pants
Who drank themselves silly on the streets of Bangalore watching crazies
    As crazies watched them
Who cried in America bolted from Europe broke Australia back to Asia
    With anti-capitalist haze in their eyes
Who lived loved learned longed annihilated their own realities for a drop
  Of ink
Who met Allen Ginsberg in an angry heaven and pled insanity




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