Justice



Justice doesn’t mean
Wearing a blindfold
Over one’s eyes;
Because, fairness
Necessitates scrutinizing
Every known
And hidden crevice–
Creating decisions based
On what actually occurs
To all those involved,
Even to the ones
One does not like;
For, what happens, then,
When the assigned jurist
Opts to be purblind?
Then, he cannot perceive
The abject situation,
Gaping back at him,
Demanding
To be acknowledged
And understood.
Real justice
Shouldn’t be blind.

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Disappointment



And when you’re dismayed
By the redundant vexations
That sprout up during your days,
Find again that quiet place,
In your heart of hearts, and say,
“I’ll make it through today”.
For, nary a blustery moment
Can ever make you disregard
All that you’ve ever spent,
Just to bring you to this day–
Even those odious instances
When life callously snatches back
Every wondrous, little thing
That it granted you in the past;
Because, nothing ever lasts–res
Which utterly includes meaning
That this rancid ache, you’re feeling,
Shall also come to pass.

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Changing The World



I glance at him
And I wonder how funny it is
That he spouts ideas so expertly;
Yet he consistently acts
Like he doesn’t know a thing.
Doesn’t it even follow
That when one is inducted
Into a specific way of thinking,
It precisely signifies
The same particular application?
For, how can one speak
Of changing the world
When he cannot even see
How his attitude demolishes
All that he enunciates?
Thus, history insistently repeats itself;
Because those who are beseeched
To join the cause
Simply get inundated
With the same temptations
That halted successful results.

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It’s Just Kindness



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They question me
About what I like in you;
I tell them that it’s your kindness.
They ask me
About what attracts me to you;
I reassert that it’s your kindness.
They demand to know why I like you;
I insist that it’s your kindness.
They shake their heads
And cackle with tearful glee–
As if they see a joke in me.
They cannot comprehend
The sole reason of what, in you, I see;
They don’t realize that naught else
May ever beat the benevolence
That I sense in every lil’ thing you do;
Because, a lot may offer varied qualities
Like corporal beauty, impressive intellect,
And stellar monetary worth;
Yet, I opt to be with someone
Who owns a heart
That’s pure and true.

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Would You?



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Would you be the one
Who opts to stay?
Would you be the one
Who promises
To be by my side,
All throughout
The denouement
Of your time and mine?
Would you be that pillar
Who refuses to fall?
Would you?
For, even when
The night wind decides
To blow
And even when
The shadows and ghouls
Fall through the cracks
Of despair and growth,
Would you be willing
To be my all?
Would you utter, “Yes!”
Or would you give way
To inevitable feebleness
And blame it all
To that nothingness,
In the end?
Because, I need to be sure;
Lest I kiss the wrong frog,
Once again.

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“Emptied”


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She went out into the world–
Excited and ripe.
The universe was up for her picking
And every novel item made her smile.
Dancing her way
Through crevices and alleyways,
She acknowledged each gaping bloom
And gawking gecko–
Anxious to be friends with all.
Then one gecko approached her,
Armed with an elfish grin on his face.
She said, “Hi!”
With all the charm and wit, about her.
They became close and he toured her
All throughout the garden–
Showing her the shrouded interstices
Of this Newfoundland of hers.
The captivating lizard dazzled her
With everything there was.
They gamboled about, in oblivion–
Him, cajoling her to enjoy;
Her, relishing every morsel of his sphere.
What she didn’t fathom
Was that each thing came with a price.
He was of that complex realm
And she was merely a new distraction–
A marvelous divertissement, he deduced.
She took in all sights and tastes,
Careless and free, at last.
“Ah! This is life!” she announced.
A few weeks of vacuous pleasures
And the gecko got weary of her zest.
He was ready to move on–
She was evolving into a pesty baggage.
He threw her away and vanished.
She woke up, disoriented and alone.
The sheltered lass wept–
Inveigled to find him, yet again.
For years, she travelled all over the kingdom–
Peering into every face,
Desiring each to be his.
But, existence wasn’t always for the naive.
Torn and crestfallen,
She went back to her cage.
“Oh, I shouldn’t have
Ventured out of this hutch.
Now, I’m more depressed than before!”
She lamented.
The world is a wondrous dominion;
But, it isn’t for the innocent and the meek.

©Diwa

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“Poetry With You”


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Penning down poetry with you,
That’s something I really miss.
The way we just jotted down,
The many things we talked about.

Writing anything for each other,
From love to poverty to politics;
Then, back again, to love.
The spontaneity and harmony,
With which we created write-ups.

Painting pictures with words–
Be it flowery, simple, fancy, or dark.
The fact that I knew you’d get it,
Anything I chose to use or say.

I loved that we had
The same train of thought–
I could use figures of speech,
And I knew, you’d see through it.
Most times, you did.

Sometimes, you didn’t get my meaning,
And I loved those moments, too.
Those were the times, you’d ask–
Ask away, you did, and I’d laugh.

I used to goad you into discovering,
What I meant–what I wanted to mean–
A word, a line, a stanza.
Sometimes, I had to explain
The whole thing.

But then, you’d make poetry, too.
Each day was full of poems for me.
Why did that even stop, anyway?
Why did we allow it to end?

What I really want, to say, is this:
I miss you and yes, I remember you.
I recall the endless discussions–
The steady flow of input-output
Between you and me.

Although, words are superfluous.
Nothing can, ever, fully enunciate
What was really lost,
The day I lost your love.

Because, I lost more than love.
I also lost my friend–
The dear friend I had, in you.

©Diwa

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“Don’t Love Me And Then Say Goodbye”


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I’m not sure if you are someone I should know.
I’m not really certain if I’m even allowed to.
Because, you strike me as someone I’d want to keep;
You have the appearance of someone
who will make me bleed.

I’m not really good with proper discernment,
The way that others can immediately pinpoint,
Those who are only meant to hurt.
Me? I meet someone likeable and then–
Boom! I give my whole world.

Frankly, I don’t want to do that again;
You know, like, giving myself to someone who’ll leave;
And you look like the kind, who gets what they want.
You seem too loveable not to disappear.

No. I’d rather stay away from you.
I don’t want to be the next girl,
Who gets to weep because you’ll go;
For, you don’t plan to stay, do you?

Sometimes, it could be so lonely, like this;
Being alone, this way, gives you that.
You’d wish someone would just spring up;
You’d find yourself praying for love.

You aren’t love, are you? You don’t look like him.
They say, you’ll know him, when he comes.
They say, your heart will simply recognize him.
I don’t think I see him in you–or I’m pretending not to.

Because, I know how it feels to be hurt.
I know how it feels to be thrown away;
Like, you have some kind of disease or something.
It hurts.
Being thrown away–being unloved–
Is pure pain.

So, let’s agree to avoid heartbreak–
When someone decides to untie the string.
That’s the condition I detest, the most.
Don’t love me, and then later on,
Say goodbye.

©Diwa

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