To Be Gray/Grey

I slipped, bad
and now I’m here again.
In this dark pit—

My old house
once white
now a paintless grey
the Sun
cast a mournful fainting light
through the curtains, clean
but tired and limp.

Utterly lost,
stapled and mutilated.

I’m so familiarized
with swallowing compromises
with my rheumy,
unhappy eyes
so stripped off my manhood
that even my name
is no longer mine
to decide, grey or gray?
I am whatever you say I am.

I weep because I’m weak
as I feel the doom surrounding
me and stealing life.

Yet I muster up
what little dignity I find.
My nicotine-stained fingers
with ragged nails
ball up into a fist
and when I unclench, I see 
in them--crinkles of new courage.
It’s a beautiful kind of pain.

But I’m still stagnant,
my insides are crawling
with the fear of starting over
and it’s cold
trying to get out of this hole.
Or am I just another crab
in the bucket? That you pity
and try to ignore?

You always look at me with suspicious eyes
Never quite believing what I’m saying
And I can’t always find the right words
to express how I’m feeling.

You never even see
my significance,
I am the quiet charger of your mobile phone
and the carpet beneath your warm
dirty feet.

But this time, when my thoughts become black
I am not going to swallow
instead, I’m gonna show you
my authenticity.
Like grey clouds crying out
a thunderstorm,
I’m gonna make
you tense and shake
like a gray chain link fence
as my words will charge at you
like an angry elephant
finally finding the light
after being chained in the dark
and made into clown
for so long.

© M. Jay Dixit, September heart-to-hearts, 2021 All Rights Reserved

Inspired by dverse prompt: True Colours?

The featured image is taken from here

Breaking The Illusion of Happiness (a sonnet)

I look behind the wall of illusion
At you all lost and death-fearing souls
Your breathing impaired by hurt emotions
And your minds tainted by your tyrant’s goals.

You’re enslaved by your perverted free will
Committed to do the deeds you regret
As you abandon the things that really fill
Your hearts with love and your minds with right rest.

When you will break the wall and look within
You will see there’s a world where souls are free
Where you’re free to change the flow of living
And to share your love like air from a tree.

You’ll find peace like calm that sets after rain
A reparation, A way, give any name.

~Mrityunjay Dixit

Life’s all light!

Light feels right
Music starts to play
In higher part of brain
In higher planes
Where the flowers grow
Life feels right
Right as the light
You'll be back 
in an hour or so
From the higher planes
Like haiku
They don't have names
You can't say
A word
You can't remember
The world
Seen from afar 
Even random walls
starts to show
hidden patterns
around the corners
You can't tell why
the letters look crooked
Or why every(one/thing) looks
so smooth, so obvious
Like through a glass wall
What's that painted quality of light
You can't know for sure 
Why are there stars in 
the summer blue sky
Look at all those lost stars
Where do they all belong
and laughter plops down
like a fat lady on a chair
not even listening to
what you're saying
You can't you know, tell
whether you're dreaming
or just feeling sleepy
but that's alright
Life's alright
Life's all light.

When the turtles will win

Oh, the time will come up
when the rains will stop
and the rabbits will cease to be running.
Like the crowing of a rooster
before the cracking of a dawn,
the hour that the turtles will win.

And the forest will sing
and the rivers will ring
and the birds in the sky will be tweeting.
Then the trumpet will sound
and the turtles will triumph
and the morning will be a-breaking.

All the animals will applaud
as they will all stand in awe
and the foxes, they will be smiling.
And the trees by the finish line will proudly stand,
the hour that the turtles will win.

And the words that are meant
to crush the turtles’ strength
will not be understood
as they’re spoken.
For the rabbits of the jungle
will be sleeping in the night
and they’ll be burrowed at the bottom of the forest.

Everyone will hail
as the shells will appear
and the turtles will trail onto the finish line.

And the Sun will reflect
off each hot–weary shell
the hour that the turtles will win.

And the elephants will trumpet
as they move out of the path
for the tired turtles to finally be resting.

And the forest’s lion king
will remind the turtles again
that the whole mighty jungle is watching.

Oh, the rabbits will rise
with the sleep still in their eyes
and they’ll jump out of their holes and think they’re dreaming.

But they’ll hear the trumpets and squeal
and they’ll know that it’s for real
the hour that the turtles will win.

Then they’ll run like the wind
boasting still that we can win
but the turtles will shout, ‘your time is over.’
And then everyone in the forest
will learn
how even the weakest
can be a conqueror.

© M. Jay Dixit, September heart-to-hearts, 2021 All Rights Reserved

Dear reader, I invite you to listen me sing ‘The turtles will win’. A poem inspired by the classic children’s story of the tortoise and the rabbit.

Featured image is taken from here and the poem is set to the music from one of my favorite Bob Dylan’s song: When the ship comes in

Also inspired by the dverse prompt: Setting

If you enjoyed the post don’t forget to like, comment and follow!
Take care ❤

Poem: Mutilation

I embrace 
this mutilation.

The torment
has tore me in two.
It's in the air I breathe
heavy, cold 
as snow this silence 
submerging me underneath.

Can't feel my right hand, 
I can't write
There's no righting 
of this kind of wrongness.

Linked to dverse: Monday Quadrille

M. Jay Dixit, 2021

Gravity Free

Mounted with wings nobody knows I’m up high alone, burning, taking wings against the desert storms and lifting myself above the clouds.

You won’t even listen so it doesn’t matter. You think it’s easy to soar in the sky, as you sit down and moan about the clouds over your head and the far away sunshine and the next coming storm and so on.

While I, an eaglet learning to fly; am throwing myself off my nest and into the blistering cold morning every day; am throwing complete caution to the wind; am embracing the storms even when my muscles hurt for I know that there’s no limit on how far I can go as long as I keep my eyes focused on the target, you are only sleeping in your cozy bed with your warm comfy pillows all around, fearing the storms as you pathetically sigh for the days gone.

I’m a gravity free eagle
10,000 feet on a desert day at noon
Screaming right at you.

posted over at dverse: Haibun Monday 2-1-21: Eagle

M. Jay Dixit, 2021

400+ Followers!

Hello fellow bloggers and readers, September Heart-to-hearts just crossed 400 followers! I am so glad that I didn’t stop blogging. I was going to, you know and I almost did around ‘September’ last year, yeah I know, the irony of it!

I had special plans for that month poetry–related but when it finally came and I realized I was turning 21 and I pictured myself graduating from my college in a few months, with no job in hand and my preparation for GATE exam (Graduate Aptitude Test of Engineering) was also getting nowhere, I got depressed. I began to question my life choices and thought why do I even bother with poetry, it’s not like I am getting any rich by writing?

The exam is on the 14th of Feb. I have just over a month to revise and prepare the little stuff that I know. I am not going to ace the exam this time, that’s something I do know for sure. I also don’t want to compromise on the job/Masters University like I did with my college. So that leaves me with the final option of taking the year off for study and give my exam in 2022.

Sometimes I feel torn, it’s not that I don’t like my studies, I haven’t flunked in any of the subjects, professors like me and all but I fear something I dunno, it’s a weird feeling. I’ll plan out my days till the exam , starting from tomorrow. 6 hours of planned study would be sufficient–seeing, right now I only study 2-4 hours, I know that 6 hours will be good.

I am NOT going to stop writing nor I am going to stop playing my guitar or do my morning runs. Those are the things that make me happy. I’d have to stop reading novels and watching TV though. I can do that.

This rambling post was a part self help note to myself, I guess. I’ve never taken a year off and staying at home another year after 2020, is gonna take a toll on me, I just know that.

In the end, I’d like to thank you all for always being there for me even when I was not there for you. I’ve made great friends in this community. Friends that inspire me, friends that make me laugh, friends that help me see things in new light, I am grateful to this community. Lots of love and take care.

Garbage Painter

'Why you smell so awful
like someone took a shit on you'
I asked my brother 
when he came back 
after taking out
the trash
as it was his turn today
The garbage man seemed to be
on a permanent holiday
he was taking the lockdown
too seriously

So my brother walked down to the slum
in the hot summer heat
where there was a garbage dumpster
On the way there he told me
he slipped on a piece of paper
and fell down
with all the trash over him
A rotten apple hit him
in his closed mouth 
and he puked

After disposing the garbage
and spewing his breakfast
in the dumpster 
he bent down
to look for the piece of paper
it was a painting
it showed a kid
climbing his way from the darkness
towards the Sun
The poor kid's mom probably thought
it was trash
when she found it littered
inside their small slum home

My brother picked it up
rolled it into a ball
and threw it in the dumpster
'another garbage painter'
he muttered
and came 

Poem: Colourful Swerves

Anxiety is pulsating piercing blue
of the overhead fluorescent led lights.
Why more people don’t have the calm yellow lights
and laughing green gardens anymore?

Aren’t anxious people increasing day by day?
It makes me blue.
Most flowers smell sweet and cold
But some, like red roses, smell hot-sweet.
You know what smells hot-sour? A fart! of course.

Rock “n” Roll is blasting out of the speakers
shooting colours everywhere
Like a dazzling November sunset.

Synesthetes perceive
different senses together.
Weird? huh.

What sound does love make?
(Chirping of birds or sweet silence?)
What colour is loneliness?
(Colour of the burning moon at early dawn?)
How does late afternoon sunlight tastes?
(Like warm oil?)

In my synaesthesia
Letter G is green
It tastes like guavas
and I can hear it sigh
When breeze ruffles the garden grass
It smells great in summers
But it smells gaudy and awful when people puke.
Puke is green too, of course.

People of the world keep calm and carry on
The blue hue of anxiety will ebb away
And yellow hue of motivation will flow in
Plant more green and rejoice
for green is the colour of laughter.
The colour of life.

In reponse to Meeting The Bar: Synesthesia To read more about what is “Synaesthesia” and how to write a poem using grapheme color synesthesia, go to dVerse!

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