• Joel and Maggie Bear
    Love

    Kind morning, full of love.

    I cannot begin to describe the skies here.Vast and endless, hues turning to blue and darker right above.It is a new painting everyday, a new photograph, how many to capture?It is a new limerick, a new rhyme and new pair of words.It is a new face everyday, a new wrinkle and a newish smile.This city gives me a new morning everyday,Below these vast and endless and ever so blue skies. Today morning, I woke up in the mistAll around me, to the left and right, above and below.And the sun lay right there, floating, as ifDaytime, I suppose, but what of the mist?These dreamy milky love-filled swirls? The skies do…

  • anon
    Love

    A perfect lover

    An apple ripens, a flower blooms and withers, water freezes and melts, wind comes to a standstill, wine becomes wholesome, a song becomes a memory, a kiss becomes softer with age. I have loved ‘perfect’ women, and they changed. And I changed. We didn’t know what perfect was anymore. I gravitate towards disarming dents, scars of war, fierce rage and undying thirst for what lies ahead. It’s an eternal all-consuming fire, as a person molts, breaking through her own past self. Few things matter. And she is far from perfect, she is flawed, she screams, she cries, she is afraid, she doubts, she loves with abandon, loyal to a fault,…

  • Painting by Chris IG // @blablabla.art
    Love

    Peppermint

    “Pretend you are playing me, Chet.”She said, as the jazz genius made love. May I write you? It is a feast. I gather everything there is and everything there will be. Imagine entire worlds crashing down and trees shooting up from the ground and skies melting into gold and little sparkles of light exploding into stars around you. Imagine this. This is you, when I eat you. I hold you tight. I hold you right. Imagine blankets of mornings and smells of Sundays. With sincere vigour, my tongue and fingers, attempt to slowly but surely describe what this moment means to us. We communicate non verbally, and we pick out…

  • Love

    Like a Bird

    I hold us with an open hand.As she lays wet and heavy, poignant.Like an evening sky, twilight.But you can neither tell how black is the nightnor how light is the dawn. She promises sincere mischief,whatever that means.She clasps like a lover.She bites like a mistress.She promises she will kiss the old me.And asks whether I will kiss the old her. I hold her with an open hand.She eats me whole. — I have been looking at things wrong.Like a bird in the sky,as wide and as high I can,but only as wide and only as high I can. She flies elsewhere, rides the winds I do not follow.She jumps into…

  • Elvin Shalmiev
    Love

    Undoing the Frost

    The rush of thoughts are tempting to stir. Morbidly warm to soak into. Melancholy wafts over like a welcome blanket. I trip, and trip again. I grab my corner and a sinful brew. Staring out and delving within. Diving into the sticky mess. It licks my arms. Gushes between my legs. My mess is a rabid river. I bite it and it bites me back. My mess. I forget I make it. It continues to make me. — The ease and unease of undressing.Waiting, simply.Asking, despite a thumping heart.The ground shaking beauty of being so utterly naked because you love. — A taste never forgotten.Stubborn. Compulsive. Obsessive. At our weakest,…

  • Archive

    Hairy Legs

    I was involved in a powerful perceptive experiment last week, contributing to Yao Chen’s (Betty) photography project for college. She studies the art at UvA. The theme was CONTRAST, and she was manifesting it through psychological biases we nurture. These biases are in-built, and we assume them without question. This makes it worthy of thought. What if you are presented with a conflicting situation, and then you realise that it is only your perception and your pre-conceived notions, that is leading to the conflict? Betty had been scouting for material. First was the human association of toys with children, and she wondered if they can be paired with the elderly.…