The Noresoup Jukebox

Misty May, all my days are becoming a blur. I could cry to you if I saw you,  so I end up not making a stir. Yesterday, I tried to write about things  other than my pain. Well, I cannot shed my self-importance, it seems,  so here I am, writing to you again.  It is easiest to be busy at home,  So if you're silent, I understand. I hope when you're back in Shillong,  We can chatter as much as we can. I found Godard in a bookstore the other day, and Mrs Plath sleeping beside him, and well,          You've never been here          But I find you in all the pockets,            spaces, corners, and things. I miss your show and tells  -  No one here to tell me about Kate in detail. My conversations since our last meeting have been boring -  no one's curious, nothing important to say. Everyone is still so awfully void of interests. I asked my date what his favourite m...

Olivia Dean - Let Alone The One You Love Rhiannon abandoned herself,  west side of the foggy city.  She must have died a few times  and woke up as a newer person; re-attempting each new life to enjoy the feeling.  Then, when they all failed,  she prayed for a lover who would wait. Then, she died a few more deaths, indulging in the dreaming. When the morning came, she heard her mother preaching - praying over her bruises, praying for courage to leave him. When silence did not suffice as an answer, she was made to live out the saying that men repeat with pride among friends - "Women are wet dogs! Wet dogs made for breeding!" Rhiannon was afraid to leave,  to open her eyes; Not from pleasure  but the lost desire to pursue her life. Fearing most to see the sun, to watch her frown at the woman she had become. Well, lucky did she feel when all the clouds had come out to hide all tiny evidences of her firy frightful demise. Disgusted was she in the shower she...

(There Is) No Greater Love - Amy Winehouse Rin and I on our terrace, lungs not yet tainted by smoke               pondered Were we teens when we worried about how much we had grown? My, they had so much in store for them. Blessed are they, for they would never know! The 'L' shaped mark left on the back of Rin's scooter               a testament to it all. And when I open the doors for her, I meet a woman so dignified and strong. Wearing her sister's clothes, but not in the same way she did before. We share a pot of tea, warm in the dining hall.  She shares, I listen, we both reflect and get to the core. Conversations with Rin are easy and never feel like an awful chore. She tells me, I deserve better. I tell her, I know. She tells me that there is someone better. I tell her, I know. She urges me to find myself in him. Ashamed that I couldn't at all. Well, who else would wake me up from a silly, dreamy...

first love/late spring - mitski Sunday, I forget who I am. I return home with a forgotten feeling,  a familiarity - of which, i suppose, i am glad. Well, how dull it all is. This city did not change much. The sermons are the same and the people -  self-righteous, self-important, boring and pompous. Then, well, I got so busy - no time to think. My womanhood in the making as the womb prepares for a baby how dull. how awful. how perpetually annoying. If i were to tear my womb out, will they see beyond the purpose of procreating? well, i know who i am -  uncertain -  well, i know how dull life can be! all i enjoy are the pockets of joy  that people can afford me. I declare it is enough oh but then, the spectacle i become! so I un-declare, groaning, ruminating on what I have done. Monday, I forget who I was. I do not know the bandwidth of my feelings. No, I know better than before. I know better than all that I was before this. 

"Well what would you like?" you ask me. "Tuna Sandwich. Single." You order. You pay.  Then, you make me sit and listen.  "How have you been -" you start and then you continue without missing a beat. "You know the last time I came here, it was with an awful ex-lover. She was this, she was that, she was everything and nothing." I make a joke. You laugh.  You acknowledge that it is my first time exploring the city. "Why have you been cooped up?" You don't ask.  You do not sit and wonder.  Instead the whole cafe is made to question why I am silent and receiving. In between your tangents you add shallow compliments about how I am good at listening. Lovely. I think to myself. I have wasted yet another night. Further exhausted by a person who lacks emotional insight. But I try to understand. We often have to be self-centred as we try to heal. So I go on a walk with you, that I enjoy some aspect of this whole ordeal. Then, the pockets of si...

The 1975 - If I Believe You so here it is, my lazy attempt  at rousing from my poetic slumber   i have not written anything of value but value is not why the poet ponders  since then, i have realised  that i left some people to wonder. they ask me about my faith "Have you pulled the plug? they ask, like it is a dying thing. Afraid that the miracle promised is somewhere yonder. "Aye," dry. "I have," I snicker. Sorry that your miracle did not arrive on time as they preached, and has come to fail us. But I have loved more since then. I do not resent God. In fact, amongst the church-iest bunch  The One i believe in might be the God they once sought. Untamed by ideas of what you deem proper. Unafraid to believe that sins make you prosper. No longer disguised by the romantic idea of the rotten and unrotten - of hell and heaven and whom you segregate among us, the loved and the unloved, the pure, the unpure, the lesser pure who may be saved. Yes, I despised. Still yes...