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Viktoriia Feb 2
call me when it's over,
i'd rather not watch it all from the start.
rewind to the credits,
make sure to read every single name out loud.

keep the tape rolling,
there might be a hidden message or two.
my mind is unstable,
but the state of it's got nothing to do with you.

so call me when it's over,
i've seen it a million times inside my head.
rewind to the credits,
read the names and remember that most of them are dead.
As prismarine rivers flow beneath mighty mountains- Uncharted by nature and resolute by force,
We Gurungs, with hearts that burn like amber,
Set out on life's unpredictable course.
Symbolised by a Sheep and steadfast as it's horns,
We're simple- but cross the bounds,
We're like Roses; Beauty with Thorns!
Shepherds we are; we graze the earth and all that it offers,
But when it's time to protect our flock (community), we don't care what thrives and what suffers.
With the Tungna at peace and Khukuri in blood,
We know the way of flowers—and of flood.

Fairness; garlanded by Purbeli Kantha, ornamented by cheptesun,
Warriors; accompanied by khukuri and honor in each ounce of blood,
For what can stop us in the battlefield?
When our rage burns like towering walls of fire!
For what can stop us in the battlefield?
When we're not afraid to surrender ourselves in ceremonial pyre!

Blessed with the blessings of 'Aap' and 'Aam'
For our honor is love to us-
We will give up our lives than sell our ethics.
We've always lived by honesty and shall keep living that way
And till then "Chhyaajalo" if you stumble our way.
As a Gurung belonging from the hilly regions of Sikkim, I've always been proud of my heritage and culture and this piece is a tribute to my community.
Perhaps, once, across vast and prosperous lands of abundance, inhabitants of many great civilizations thrived and cared for the earth they called their own. This was the way. Then, though, cloaked in black and filth, the slim faced invaders emerged from their firm ships, this shifted. The new status quo was to comply with theirs. How dare they punish progress? This would have been preferable had the inhabitants of the land had a choice, at least, but they did not. The foreigners knew this, and strategically sickened their people with disease—how could it have been an accident?—***** them and their land, and plunged their prosperity into the dark. As the years passed, only tales of the past, the former nature of this land, were what remained. Forests fell. The ways and the winds changed. Forts flourished. The foreigners’ descendants believed they needed to form a more perfect union on their land, yet one only they could enjoy. Just like those before, these people reshaped the land they claimed was for community and fueled an empire of capital accumulation and individuality. How could we not? As the centuries counted away from that fateful fall, the agenda of ****** the land and its people and reaping the benefits remained, overtaking that of old. The natives made attempts to stop it, and lessons they were taught. How dare they punish progress? Some listened, realizing the natives deserved rights, so the new status quo was to comply and grant them compensation and rights. Molded by its newest wielders as the seats of the world, it was a model to aspire to. This was the way. Now, across vast and prosperous lands, great civilizations live in abundance with all the things they own. Perhaps.
Written on 2024-11-12.

This is a prose poem written for an English class on creative writing during our poetry unit when we were instructed to write one. Our prompt was to write a single paragraph poem inspired by one we read in class that day. Version 1.0 was written solely with the intent of chronicling the events that occurred across North America over the past few hundred years since the arrival of the Pilgrims from Europe, but this version applies more broadly, depicting core similarities between events that occurred to all areas colonized by European colonial powers. I attempted to give the speaker a neutral perspective, merely observing and commenting on what happened than criticizing and/or glorifying a particular side. I tried to holistically encapsulate the goals of both sides, too, demonstrating how they are near complete opposites in concept. For instance, more capitalist societies egocentrically using the land to yield maximum profit contrasts more socialist societies respecting the land in a more ecocentric manner.

Additionally, when vaguely described in practice, they seem eerily similar. The end is supposed to mirror the beginning as well. More specifically, the tone of the poem is supposed to shift from acceptance to resistance, then back to acceptance one more, as well as from natural to artificial to natural again. A shift from a land that claims people to people that claim land also occurs, signifying the shift from indigenous to European power. The “[p]erhaps” at the beginning signifies the fact that these are stories being told from the perspective of the people at the end of the story—hence why only the final sentence is in the present tense—and that they can’t be certain. It was done to further the mirroring motif included throughout the poem.

The theme of Version 1 was nature, but this version’s theme is progress and its subjectivity depending on which side of conflict is being asked. This highlights that both sides are equally valid, even though they see one another and their ideologies as lesser, even bad.
I live a life of privilege;
It’s always been my norm.
A most comfortable existence I have lived,
From the day that I was born.

Had everything I’d ever need,
And all the things I’d want.
One might confuse it for greed,
I never asked; it’s how I was brought up.

All the food, shows, and gaming,
The world had, yet I was bored.
I had infinite satisfaction,
But from this, complacency formed.

So long I knew no else,
Then my views were changed.
Dad drove me through the city
And expanded my viewpoint’s range.
Written on 2024-09-19.
This was written after having studied privilege in college.
Are we free anymore? I’ve asked myself lately,
Sure, it seems so, but a few things are shady,
Well, more than a few; in fact most of our lives
Are controlled and well-governed like dogs kept on lines.

Last week my own neighbor was caught and arrested
For owning plants curing her cancer, depression,
Science speaks truth but the Law doesn’t mind
Their care is your sentence, not the healing inside.

We’re ruled by fear, I’ve come to conclude
It’s limiting consciousness, limiting mood
Forced to pay off all those bills in the mail
Or they’ll haul you away to community jail.

It’s not always this way—look at it like this,
We do have a large sum of freedom as kids,
We can eat, speak, dress, and play how we please
Before the real world arrives, subjugating this ease.

“Get good grades in school, be quiet, and listen,
Better cut the tomfoolery or end up in prison,
Repent all your sins or you can’t go to Heaven”
...Are drilled in our heads by the time we reach seven.

Yes, it is fear; now much clearer to me,
Yet sadly too subtle for the masses to see,
Some of us hope that things will get better,
So we dogs may finally stray from our tether.
Written on 2018-12-21. This was written for a high school poetry project.
Maria Etre Jan 31
Go to where
poetry is aroused
that's where misery
drinks with company
and over-thinking
smokes with assumptions

That's where the heart
over-fills drinks
to the brim
with
"is this right?"

and wets papers
with poetry
that questions
its creator
Falling Awake Jan 29
With hand sculpted verity,
I’ve fixed the flimsiest frame,
Suiting for my narrow view.

Contoured to my convenience,
Auto shaded by defense,
I’ve shaped lies– it’s nothing new.

Contained by intense borders,
My framed lies appear separate,
However, this is untrue.

With self-awareness clouded,
The frame shields me from myself,
But is it not fair to you?
This poem is about those “little white lies” that we tell ourselves (and others) to get by day to day. The "I’ll do it tomorrow"s, the "one more time"s, and the most dreaded…"I’m fine"s.
Maria Etre Jan 29
This time,
I wore
a parachute
before
I jumped
off the
edge
of
fa
ll
in
g
Then there was man
Who fought the wild
Braved the winter
Dodged the sun
Made the fire
Rode a wheel
Tilled the land
Dug the sand
Brought water
Carved cities
Read books
Pulled the trigger
Went to space
Ruled a people
Left a *****
A fragile Y
That has to
Somehow
Beat 2X
To stay in the fight...
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