Kash Baloch — Poetry on Identity, Love, and Survival

When the bough breaks, they said my cradle would fall but I fell instead, head over heels in love. You reached out to me with an olive branch, and I grabbed your whole arm, why did you do this, why'd you have to lead me on? I said I'd be there for you, like the soil to your rose, but you chose to wilt when we could've grown. I've never had issues with accepting fault, still you ran away, like you were allergic to salt. Sodium chloride wrong of you to leave me alone, especially when my spirit refuses to accept that your hand I'll no longer hold. You were the only reason I remained, I was the sole serpent to ever be tamed. Such a gem, such a jewel—yet you expect me to abstain, from falling apart, like glue, you kept me sane. My apologies for losing my cool all those times I made you feel blue, bear with me, my dear—I forgot all I had to fear. A silent hill, a busy tone, your absence is felt, now I've learned my lesson, so I keep others at bay. With a single extend...

"Tell me again, where is it you stop and the succubus begins? Why is it that once we separated we both ceased to exist?" A vanishing act, in two parts. Act One : My pitiful proposal right in the middle of study circle was the first arrow to pierce your unfeeling heart. A feat more noble than neon on the periodic table. And you? If you were an element, it would be gangrene, the way you suddenly appeared and immediately created a crime scene. A biohazard more toxic and lethal than Fukushima. You radiated light, and at first glance I was blinded. Now that each individual shard of shrapnel has been plucked from my silver eyes, I see that you were nothing but nuclear. Once a dream within a dream, until you decayed and became a fucking nightmare within another godforsaken nightmare. Like those matronly Russian nesting dolls, but instead made up of demons, until there was nothing left but desolation. Act Two : What happened to the wide eyed hopeful freshman that I met handing out...

Engaged in reckless abandon, self-medicating as I gamble. I grow more weary as I persist, as I become more promiscuous. Am I the victim of KIDNAPPING, where they took my BRAIN, as I fought them off with fists? ANOTHER abductee gone missing— but they won't break my spirit, even if they take away my WINGS. DIAGNOSED in an anti-septic hallway, though I still remain unconvinced. I refuse to be an EXPERIMENT; I am nobody's test subject. One SATURDAY, a PATTERN emerged  that was disturbing; it began  with DELUSIONS of grandiosity.  I may feel spurned now,  but I'm still learning. If only this INSOMNIA  would just let me sleep.

Tough as diamonds, I still stutter. Even equipped with spirit real resilient. Titanium temper you can't tamper. Bullet proof; I am bone brilliant. No weapon could wage war against me. You are Hiroshima to my bomb atomic. Hydrogen gases could never harm me. Napalm nor nitrous oxide could phase me. When I fell to this planet, I crash landed. Rode in careening on a comet. Like obsidian, I am igneous; volcanic. Concrete, cinder-block, ceramic. Jackhammer my stone heart in the street, chances are the road will crack before me. I survived storms, and tsunamis; scaled sorrows, climbed calamity. Rappelled into the fiery pits of Hell, wrestled with remorse, and reversed spells. I can't be destroyed now—I refuse it. My lights may flicker, but they won't finish.  Any attempts to break me will prove fruitless. Diamond life of mine can't be cut open.

Blood of my blood that runs scarlet red, rivers that rage through my DNA, these parts of me they can't be changed, they make me a sinner and also a saint.  Forest fires devoid of rain nearly burnt my body to a crisp, orange were the embers that remained, as I maneuver through life's malevolent marigold maze.  Yellow bellied and afraid to admit I was different from the rest, still, society and its rules sought to suppress my truth, now, as I seethe under the saffron sun while she sets, life gave me lemons so I shaped them into bullets  I embarked on my adventure to fulfill Emerald City dreams, once I evicted my ego, I was no longer envious or grisly green, as I adopt the lotus position for deep reflection, nothing could feel quite as successful as I do whilst meditating. Awash in the blues, I was drowning in my own sorrows, sinking in streams of sapphire sadness, these were the lessons that led to greatness. Insecurities that were once unappealing, ignited, erupting i...

Burgundy bells blared brittle, like bread; savoury silk suddenly singed my silent skin. Chocolate chimes chased charcoal chalk, talking toasters tingled tangled trucks. A hissing whistle wilted hitters,  tittering critters tinted cisterns. Blisters erupted belittled erasers; cauldrons bubbled creation's blazer. A shock of sterile antiseptic. Christmas tastes light blue like plastic. Sometimes seasons sound unfamiliar, and stranger than a static splinter.  Sirens arouse sentiments unpleasant, sharp like spies and estranged sisters. That's when I just grin and bear it— colourblind is chaos in its brilliance.

Eyes like the silhouette of Sicilian sunsets so majestic. A marble mind carved carefully, with time; prophetic. His humour could sell out shows at the Apollo. With a sensitive flair, and sun-kissed hair, his will be a hard act to follow. Roman nose, defined, and Aquiline; his every feature is disarming. Floating through my Venetian canals, this Florentine was a natural prince charming. But most importantly, his heart was Hercules, and his spirit was prosecco sweet. He would die a thousand times trying to fulfill your every single dream.  Pray to the Vatican, that we should never part, I'm Juliet, he's Romeo.  This boy has captured my heart.

G lorious gigantic greenery filled fantastic flights of thievery. A thimble; a thin, symbol of servitude, as symmetrical as pulchritude. Beauty surrounds all the things we do, sometimes it's in taupe, others in blue. Grabbing at levitating atoms lies a grisly, gnarled rattle. Games of houndsteeth, patches of crimson, line sterile streets with seeds and peat, like we're in prison. Catfish catch us at our weakest, when we're desperate, in secret. A candid snapshot of us on Tuesday, mothers no longer tell us who's gay. Geysers, canals of chaos create my cityscape, Typhoons wash our troubles off to seabreak. Hyperventilating, so I take away my hand. Hold onto me as we spin, I'll add vision to your wasteland. With fingers tousling your green hair, my lips will kiss you til you grin. Crafty soldiers hold my ego hostage, until you became my breakfast sausage. When we, crystallize then come together, we never separate for stormy weather. Call me wh...

Losing my mind was like swallowing hot coals—it stole the words from off my tongue. A treason like no other, even though we anticipate that it will burn. Embers lit up my mouth from the inside, like walls of a cavern lit entirely by torch.  When my brain malfunctioned, my grasp on reality suddenly became loose. Unraveling like serotonin silly string until all that remained was one big knot. As my sanity escapes, all that was left is a pile on the floor of mess.  I lose track of time as I obsess about an idea that evolves into branches that make up a nest. Twigs of delusion turn into entire trees when subjected to neglect. Dopamine twice a day does nothing to improve my self-respect. I search the seafloor for something familiar to swim alongside with, making my way upstream until I can tell fish apart from their tailfins. Saved crocodile tears in a sandcastle—oysters reveal pearls of oxytocin alabaster. It is finding yourself in quicksand sinking faster than a s...

If Coco Chanel played by the rules herself then there would be no iconic Number Five, but ever since this mademoiselle raised Hell, the fashion world was fiercely brought to life. Indira Gandhi's ruthlessness is how she rewrote India's history, waging war for independence, she was a state of emergency. Dancing her way to the top of the charts, Madonna's world tours sold out at every stop. She used sex as a weapon to open her heart, until she became the reigning queen of pop. Refusing to slave another day,  Harriet Tubman was determined to be free, this renegade helped others run away, on a route to the north country. Some women prefer chains and oppression,  so they silently accept all that is unfair. This is why the good girls go to Heaven,  but the bad girls go everywhere.

I suppose even the most nefarious entities are desperate for an identity,  creating their own corroded communities through engaging in impunity. Erecting idols of their enemies  & slandering their friends,  scrutinizing all the others when it should be them under the lens.  Delusion, like psychosis, has dust mites thinking they're superior; as they sit and compare battle scars although they're dazed & delirious.  Their obsession with made up offenses dines on them like a predator, until a patchwork of paranoia peers back from every reflection. You wanted to curse others,  now you got it back times three,  abandoned by your own mother,  now all you have left is me.  Reader beware:  you're long overdue for a scare.  Surprise, you spooky bitch,  bet you thought you'd seen the last of me. Cockroaches possess the common sense to evade certain death,  a...

Every desert is testament to her understated elegance; even whilst devoid of rain, their roses still bloom in resonance. With the majesty of medieval monarchy, the moon itself marvels at her magnificent mystery; conducting the stars as they sparkle brightest for her, since she is a symphony. With every cup of her you sip—you slip further under her spell. You and all your fellow men were too quick to dismiss her as just another raven-haired rebel. One thing becomes clear as you are hit by the guilt from her dreams you denied: you were threatened by the brilliance that blazes bravely behind her Bedouin eyes. It is easy and quite simple to embrace equality; even the blind can see behind your problematic patriarchy. You are angered by the branch, despite your own status as the tree. It's time you knew the truth and learned this ancient secret that was omitted from the holy texts:"Without her, even a rose is haggard—there is no beauty in her absence." ...

Every desert is a woman—each one, mysterious, and alluring. No cartel or caravan could capture her despite their concerted efforts. Instead, she has them captivated; they covet her like treasure. But she will not be bought by any bearded Bedouin! She cannot be collected in jars, or hidden away in some harem. Her Sahara will remain as free as the Arabian horse; only without a saddle can one truly experience the world. She doesn't mind that her hair is streaked with dirt, or that the soles of her bare feet have turned black. Listen closely and you'll even hear them sizzling from the scorching Saudi sun. A sly grin appears on her face as she performs a serpentine dance, intoxicating. Like smoke, she moves with sinuous grace, slithering smoothly through these sombre Syrian streets. Watch as her hips become hypnotists who stun through spins and twists like a mirage. Listen to the jingle of the coins on her belt; the same gold and silver some sultan or sheikh felt should m...

Once, when we were young,  we fell head over heels in love; felt like we'd been stung, razors rained down o n us from up above. Oh how it hurts my lungs,  once we were innocent as doves I numb the pain with drugs,  now that I have been disposed of. As we argued more,  push turned to shove,  Now you've gone missing, babe.  Take me back to yesterday. Stopped by your place,  but you've left for outer space,  linger at your door,  but you don't live here anymore.  It's years since you've been there.  And now you've disappeared  somewhere; without a trace. I'm lost without your sweet embrace. And I miss you, yeah, like infants miss their mother's face. And I miss you, whoa, you've left a mark I can't erase. I just miss you, oh, like a shoe without a lace, I'm missing you, baby, this emptiness won't be replaced. I rang down your phone,  so many times I cannot count, your number is unknown,...

A paper boat wrestles with restless seas to stay afloat, as  amber sun collides with cotton, cobalt-coloured clouds.  Bruises decorate my blackened, battered soul, soon even sanity slips away unseen, into some careless crowd. Caught in the rapturous aftermath of hope, this reckoning is one I'd rather skip. Bind my idle hands with rope, next stitch up my damaged lips. B utton up these barren eyes, before they believe another lie. Malevolent magnets pull me in opposite directions,  this tug of war romance won't be won with weapons.  Heaven has to wait for me to revert to being holy,  as eraser smudges have replaced all remnants of the old me. This haphazard, hollow heartbeat has become a battle drum,  it sets the season for my sorrow, and the tempo for my gloom.  Grief, just like a paring knife, carves up my insides,  cutting away the only parts of me that I ever liked. Anger erupts inside of me until I burst then tear apart at the seams; as ...

You tear me down, I feel so weak. It's hide and seek, hide and seek. Scotch tape mouth so I can't speak, pour me a glass of something sweet, like gasoline, gasoline. I wanna call myself an ambulance, cos I can't swim, can barely dance. My vision blurs, I'm in a trance. Lost any chance for romance; just resistance, and violence. Heart's locked up, its wrists are chained; the consequence of losing grace. Our love's a refugee on the run  all out of chase, feeling displaced. Matchboxes and misery litter my home, now that you've gone, left me alone. I would rather endure your abuse than the emptiness within these halls. Cancer coloured corridors that make me sick, I cough then catch my breath, and take a sip, as red wine stains my restless soul. You close your eyes, and count to three, I cover my own but leave a little space,  so I can see you search for me,  through the mess, amongst the waste. If only we could find the words to say, we could both win at this ga...

A thorny kiss, that  pricked like tetanus.  Your touch left papercuts no alcohol could remedy, fragrant  to smell yet poison to me,  you were the infection that led to disease.  I may be your cancer, but I am also your man,  so take back these seeds, bury them in the sand. Not weak, but naive, and blissfully aware, fake smiling my way through every affair. I am the reason, and all that remains.  You are the bleach; the iodine that stains.  Like ink, you left your mark through roses, especially when they'd wilt, so I swallowed my pride in spite of my guilt;  pluck each of my petals as I slowly decay; I return to the soil as I drift away.

Heart racing faster than a sprinter, as I prick you like a splinter.  I'll make you blossom like the cherry tree does after a long winter, then explore your oceans like Cousteau's possessed my fingers.  I am the summer sun that overwhelms your city with heat,  you are the sugar on my tongue that has me craving sweets.  As we mix together like cement before it paves the streets, you'll declare me king in the north before we even complete.

I gaze longingly at the stars, searching for an answer, attempting to find reason hidden in their alluring mystery.  With both my eyes squeezed tightly shut, my third awakens and opens; it is wide enough to fit the entire universe in its field of view.  I see myself reflected in the sky; my ancestors light my way as my soul leaves my body.  It rises like smoke, and feels as light as steam, filled with the vapours of tears I could not cry; floating higher than hot air balloons that colour the clouds.  Unexpectedly, I find you—exactly where I left you; between the sound barrier and my dreams, both currently equally inaccessible to me.  But I am too busy living in the moment, or at least that's what I claim. I blow you a kiss and pass you by, leaving you behind to chase fulfillment.  You, the lesson I refused to learn.  You, the embers that made me burn  until my lungs could take no more.  My spirit soars, elated, satisfied to discover a solutio...

I gaze longingly at the stars, searching for an answer, attempting to find reason hidden in their alluring mystery.  With both my eyes squeezed tightly shut, my third awakens and opens; it is wide enough to fit the entire universe in its field of view.  I see myself reflected in the sky; my ancestors light my way as my soul leaves my body.  It rises like smoke, and feels as light as steam, filled with the vapours of tears I could not cry; floating higher than hot air balloons that colour the clouds.  Unexpectedly, I find you—exactly where I left you; between the sound barrier and my dreams, both currently equally inaccessible to me.  But I am too busy living in the moment, or at least that's what I claim. I blow you a kiss and pass you by, leaving you behind to chase fulfillment.  You, the lesson I refused to learn.  You, the embers that made me burn  until my lungs could take no more.  My spirit soars, elated, satisfied to discover a solutio...

She bounces between the shadows of strangers, playing a solitary game of Hopscotch that seems to never end. The looming skyscrapers provide her with the utmost comfort, a retminder that she is a single loose thread hidden by fancy needlework in the overall fabric of this metropolis.  Despite longing to remain as anoymous as the Jane and John Does in hospital morgues, the rubies in her hairband glisten in the sun, letting her presence be known against her wishes.  Once she is ready, she will vanish without a trace, disappearing into the concrete sidewalks like the rain. But until then, she permits the sun to paint her shadow ruby red.  One day she will fade away, becoming one with the blaring horns from taxicabs, and excited voices of children rushing home from school. That is when she will finally be happy—more elated than the current fleeting moments of contentment that make her wince from the transient way they ebb and flow, and tease. Until then, she remains vigilant, ...

Since colonialism corrupted her innocence, dyeing Mother India's land with the blood of innocents. Once, harmony existed between their inhabitants, until extremism reared its ugliness and sought to create division. From the beginning of time, India was one, home to many different tribes that coexisted peacefully under the Hindustani sun. From the shores of the Indian ocean, to the Himalayas and Bangladesh in the east, there was no bond quite like theirs until pride and ego made it cease. I still consider myself to be Indian despite having Pakistani roots, one day, hoping to to adventure throughout India, whilst feasting on her fruits. Long live Mother India, the birthplace of all religion, though I remain in mourning for the casualties lost to predatory partition.

She has hips like Venus, that ebb and flow, with the rhythm of the sea; her waves wash over me. I seek tranquility in her ocean. Swimming in her to define my freedom. A body of water like no ofher. She smells of saline and hard labour. Every breath's an effort, just like the very air I breathe. Sweet as honey, she is thick as milk. Despite being blamed for Eve's original sin, she still weaves through the traffic with expert skill. Blessed with the ability to turn water into wine, and chromosomes into people, she embraces every obstacle with passion and wonder. As soft as velvet, and as smooth as jade, she is the reason why brutish men are transformed into knaves. Le donne, mujeres, aurat— in any language she is beautiful. And for her very existence, I am eternally grateful.

She walks with her head held higher than the skyscrapers that kiss the sky. Finally able to live her truth, her hazel eyes have no more glitter tears to cry. Sometimes strangers can be crude, but often they just seem surprised. Her name and identity give her strength, and fill her with such pride.

I. I lay wide open awaiting your embrace. Like the solitude of the ocean, I am still and ready. Float into me and make waves. Create ripples as you run your finger along the surface. As we ebb and flow in our shared time together, you must promise not to hurt me. Do not disturb my rhythm—don't desert me. On the off chance that you should fail, I offer you a single warning: feed me knives, and I will rust along the edges of your dreams. Prepare to be shipwrecked if you dare to destroy all that's ever been serene. If not, then carry on, and do not make entire seas out of simple streams.  II. It used to be endearing: her ability to play devil's advocate and remain objective. Not many girls her age, let alone women, could see both sides of every story. She walked a mile in every shoe until she was tired. Danced through gardens with reckless abandon, she was simultaneously as naked as the sun and as mysterious as the moon. We warned her but to no avail, she wouldn't lis...

She has hips like Venus, that ebb and flow, with the rhythm of the sea; her waves wash over me. I seek tranquility in her ocean. Swimming in her to  define my freedom. A body of water like no ofher. She smells of saline  and hard labour. Every breath's an effort,  just like the very air I breathe. Sweet as honey,  she is thick as milk. Despite being blamed  for Eve's original sin, she still weaves through the traffic with expert skill.  Blessed with the ability to turn water into wine, and chromosomes into people, she embraces every obstacle with passion and wonder. As soft as velvet, and as smooth as jade, she is the reason why brutish men are  transformed into knaves.  Le donne, mujeres, aurat— in any language she is beautiful. And for her very existence, I am eternally grateful.