how we learnt to liveA Poem by Alicante lullabyMomma was self sacrificial and bitter like most self-sacrificial people are, the ones you read about in books A true Gandhist,she lived on some sort of a curb diet plan left best portions of handiya for papa and Ali kept to her diet plans and ate only me, for lunch,for breakfast,for dinner Papa had always been popular and self-obssessed but we loved his childish liking of himself, our huge smiling dictator,we really loved him atleast i did (may be because he was as scared of my self sacrificial momma as i was...may be she ate us both) Pinkie had never been anything more than those pretty pink soap bottles (plastic and no brains...easily mouldable,readily available) and to be honest she never wanted/ pretended to be anything more, she never had to,after all she was the pretty one so she got my share of true loves too Ali grew up wanting to kill me (and i dont know why) Cousin brother was the only thing i claimed back then and how he loved to teach and touch, his fingers couldnt help touching we experimented alot with our bodies and his ouija board he was the one who brought me my first tin of cranberry juice and he talked of bees perhaps he was the one who told me that we lived in a bee hive,all of us with our lack of individuality and our continuous buzz buzz Oh my God ,the humdrum,our humdrum was almost alive Huge and cloud like with always the dull same notes like a church choir's, it was then and there when my last sessions with cousin brother concluded beneath the bed (or perhaps it was under the dinning table,i dont remember) that i learnt to fight myself alone, cued my coloured aesthetics in neat rows, loved my qualms,hated them, all of the boys in my class awakened a young mama in me and i wanted each of them to have oedipus complex when enraged i taught myself to destroy each tiny world in my fist my tongue craved everything sweet and red everything as sweet and red as cranberry juice and my brown hands stretched out to find words to elaborate ''the art of survival'' this is precisely how i learnt to live © 2011 Alicante lullabyReviews
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Added on July 22, 2011Last Updated on July 22, 2011 AuthorAlicante lullabyAboutThe Hanging Man By the roots of my hair some god got hold of me. I sizzled in his blue volts like a desert prophet. The nights snapped out of the sight like a lizard's eyelid: The wor.. more..Writing
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