The Fictional Truth

We are in the middle of a pandemic and also the global and national predicament, not to mention, most of us are confused with a lot of questions and quite predictably turn to news. Alas!
I feel like we have no where left to turn to. Like like we are stuck in a loop.

Joseph Goebbels, a German Nazi Politician said, “A lie told once remains a lie, but a lie told a thousand times becomes the truth”. Almost everything in our present post-truth, modern world, is based on this single statement. This is the era of fake news. Our media shapes perceptions; all the allegations, investigations, trials, tribulations and decisions are made here. If there’s anything that I learnt from all of this is, if media comes to my home, they’ll find me guilty for the crimes I had no idea of.

From religion to advertisements, I feel, we are running on fragile balance between truth and fiction. It’s always easy to weave fiction; because of our ability and the need to be heard and seen in social groups, people tend to believe in the crowd Or link it to centuries old faith. Works like magic!

Truth is always hard to handle and impossible to process. Can we, you and I, handle the truth about the food we eat, clothes we wear, about how we twisted and turned faith of centuries into nothingness, of how we are using God as a psychological weapon? how we ruined the earth we call home? and how we all are to blame for all the bad in the world?

There is good too, I don’t deny it. But I don’t run away from bad. I have learned to acknowledge the problem. Acknowledging a problem is the only way to solve it.

Truth costs relations. And in present world, who wants to lose faith of someone important or powerful? A lie is thus fed a million times, until it becomes the ultimate truth. We believe in what we hear repeatedly.

~ 🧜

© 2020 mermaidspen

//Touch has a memory//

I have been pretty transparent, if you’re really looking.
On my skin, you could see the boy with hazel eyes
with softest curls and the way,
he is touching my skin just by looking,
You can feel the metaphors
running along my hair
to your fingers;
you can sense the memories
curling up your hand.
Will remind you of the last kiss
or I’ll fill your heart with clichés;
you always fall for it.

Let me tell you stories about disasters and disappointment running deep down under my wrist, in my veins;
If you touch me for a bit longer, you’ll be able to sense the thunders;
touches, devastating enough to burn down the entirety.
But there’s nothing scarier than skin that feels nothing at all.

If I tell you,
consent in love is a funny thing
between the flashback of millions of memories and disruptive silence
in your eyes, you’re lost, believe me.
Once you touch,
there are no more may l’s.

And what about the veins under my skin that still tremble
at slightest touch because there are memories buried underneath me.
You look for justifications on my wrist,
all the longer-than-usual touches,
I’m wearing under my sleeves.

I know you’d believe me crying myself to sleep and how miserable the year has been.

But,
would you believe me
If I tell you,
An unwanted touch can send chills down the man’s spine
when you try to pull him closer after every “no”?
There is always a ” be a man” ready to slip from your tongue.
Can you ever forgive yourself in the name of humanity,
in the crowds shouting for justice while you’re the 5/10 culprits;
for stealing a moment that was not yours; thinking a smile to be a consent or never asking for it?
You know there won’t be any going back for him.
If there was a slight voice of complain,
it’s always easy to be a victim than to take responsibilities.
Funny how you always get away when they’re the ones sulking in pain.

And what about when a man tells you he was molested, would you believe him or say, “must’ve been fun?”

Collaboration with Bharath

© 2020 mermaidspen

//Love is Love//

Words will leave me
at the end of this poem
just like your love
left societies and hearts
day by day or
maybe it was never there.
Maybe I am too delicate.
Breathing before I suffocate.
Am I too slow
to cope up with the
mornings, days and seconds?
But I still am very receptive
towards love, affection
and the foundations of
your faiths and religions.
Everyday I hear lips
shouting “love is love”
but see them denying the same
when it’s time to act.
They let their opinions
slip into air
infecting people,
disheartening the minds
(Sometimes people are
The virus)
Being homosexual or
transgender is no crime;
world needs to stick to love
instead of a gender,
one part of world is on roads,
angry, hurt
and you’re telling me
to deny unlearning
because what you have
been taught is not wrong.
Stop shouting ” we’ll take care
of you, get you checked”
let the people be who they are.
We have so much to learn yet,
we have to go far.
And sooner or later
I’ll find the words which left
but, can you find the love
you threw out of your windows?

Prompt by Meera

© 2020 mermaidspen

Let them be

This constant pressure someone feeling that they are entitled to talk to you daily can be draining ( and can break the bonds too). When going through things, the most creative people can also run out of words and the answer to every question can be nothing more than “okay”.

We keep checking on people , which is a good thing, indeed. But too much care can be toxic too. If everybody starts with “How are you today?” then what else can someone say other than ” I’m fine”.

On some days the best thing we can do for others is to just listen or just be there in silence or just give them the space. Because sometimes, the best thing we can do for others is not to do anything.

~ Let them be.

Phoenix

I belong to this world or maybe I am the world or just a void in space, whatever it is, some days I am so full of life, feels like I could give birth to million galaxies and swallow down the burning meteoroids or maybe save everyone from existential crisis. When I see someone suffering, especially something I have been through and managed to survive, there is this invincible desire to move their world upside down and make them see, how incredibly tiny and pointless their pain/ sufferings are. Then, at the exact same moment I want to stay distant, speak only when asked and help only as much as needed to let others soak up the hell fire and be their own Phoenix.

Everyday, I come across someone who starts or end the conversation with “you/ your words saved me” and I just end up smiling, doing nothing, trying to be distant. Like how!
I can barely drag myself out to at least to breathe. I leave conversations in cliffhanger, don’t reply for weeks, worse, delete my accounts. When I am back from the shell, how everyone is still here? Why everyone is still here?

There is this person living inside me, even after all the hell I put through myself, she never left, she actually refuses to leave. And wants to save everyone, her believes in love are so strong that all my demons cry for her to leave. But she keep trying to pull off these “heroic” scenes. Once I told her, if you must,then save me from myself.To which she replied, “saving is not something you need”.
OKAY. What do I need then?

You can call me narcissist, but my world does revolves around me. I am the greatest weapon of destruction and source of healing I have ever known, and these days..

I am not sure what I am.