A Song for a Step Forward

A song I wrote for election week and some of the emotions I’ve observed in the past few days:

 

Verse

Weatherman said the forecast was looking cloudy
and I think it’d be safe to say that that’s been true
every word said had we the people doubting
if this was a week which we could all get through

Verse

All got out of bed on Tuesday with a purpose
then the waiting began to see who’d win and lose
each woman, man, other identifying person
was holding their breath their eyes fixed to the news

Pre-Chorus

and it took a few more days than we’d have liked
had our fingers crossed that things would turn out right

Chorus

This is a song for a step forward
a song for brand new days
I know not everyone’s happy
with the decision that’s been made
but this is it, this is now
we’ve got a woman in the white house
history is being made in front of our eyes
what crazy times for us to be alive

Verse

for now the united states still stands pretty divided
but the president elect isn’t only just for blue
to stand for all America, he’s decided
red, blue, him, her, we, them, me, or you

Pre-Chorus

and it took a few more days than we’d have liked
to learn what we hoped to know last Tuesday night

Chorus

But this is a song for a step forward
a song for brand new days
I know not everyone’s happy
with the decision that’s been made
but this is it, this is now
we’ve got a woman in the white house
history is being made in front of our eyes
what crazy times for us to be alive

Bridge

we the people of this country
face the end of a 4 year age
it’s been educational
but we’re turning the page
raise the flag

Half-Chorus

This is a song for a step forward
a song for brand new days
I know not everyone’s happy
but the decision has been made

Chorus

This is a song for a step forward
a song for brand new days
I know not everyone’s happy
with the decision that’s been made
but this is it, this is now
we’ve got a woman in the white house
history is being made in front of our eyes
what crazy times for us to be alive

Outro

what crazy times for us to be alive

 

©SKETCHES BY MAKO: 2222AD



2222 BC

O Apollo,

Bear your fruit

Upon me,

Reign

chaos

pestilence

pandemic

flood

hurricane

seismic collision

spontaneous 
combustion

implosion

locusts

leeches

O Amoeba, 

I dream to be human. This Knowledge carries burden. Over-thinker, over-complicater, I create patterns in my brain...

They say when the world ends, we'll be the last to know it.

Why can I then,

Predict apocalypse in algorithms and axioms? 

System Overload

Total Eclipse of the Sun

I Put My Faith In Creation Myth Because I Pay Sacrament To The Unknown

2222 AD

anxiety

O Alprazolam, 

How blissful would it be

To be

Neurotypical

+KHAOS+ EP.3: Other Half

EP3: OTHER HALF

EP3: OTHER HALF

Unit 3 SALV, also known as Ed, and Milo are hanging out together in Doctor’s room as they start to develop a special bond. Ed and Milo are jokingly discussing how one day they should escape to another planet just in case the earth fails to hold human life. Ed is getting ready for his final test if it has enough empathy to be able to shelter and protect humans.

+Author’s Comment+

Hi all! Hope everyone is doing well and is hopefully stress-free now that the elections are over. Have a great rest of the week 🙂

Follow my Art Instagram Account: @kats.art.folder

waves: walking

another thing i really enjoy writing about is connection. and while this is a very broad topic that tons of people enjoy writing about, and many people in general strive to understand, it still has its interesting aspects. there’s so many ways to approach understanding connections, and we can find ways to translate these methods and processes of thought over to many (if not, all) other displays of connection that are seemingly unrelated.

i’ve realized that i often times glorify perfect human connection, and this forces me to neglect entire aspects of my relationship with another person, work of art, myself, etc. i often times try to assign blame to myself, the other person, or both for the flaws that exist in the relationship, when in reality, trying to foster perfect connection is virtually impossible. we can get lucky in our lives and find people we “click” with, or overcome obstacles in our relationships that enables them to grow for the better, but what does it really mean to connect?

i feel that a connection isn’t just about similarities, but it’s also about the ways in which you challenge them and they challenge you; butting heads, trying to get past each other’s walls, the things we empathize with and the things we could never understand. it’s becoming increasingly interesting to think about in the context of 2020, and the ways in which i think about the people, institutions and systems (created by people) that harm people with my identities.

anyway — that’s all a part of it. that’s why i believe there are infinite ways to connect with someone or something. this concept gave way to this poem, in which i approach my relationship with my mom from a place i never have before with a experiences that i’ve ever thought about deeply until recently.

taken in the law quad last year. by me.

~~~~~~

the cramps come dance on my mama’s legs at night

setting light in her thighs, she stomps them out in the hallway.

 

when the cramps throw a dagger at her, my door flies 

open. the bat signal we negotiated with having said nothing. 

 

my hands pressure the bed. my hands, a servant to thee.

i came running from the shadows, the forest of my dreams

 

to hook my arm in yours in this hallway drenched in drowsy silhouettes and walk.

i pledge to rid the body of all that is wrong right next to you. 

 

this is how i’ve figured to give my love to thee:

one, two, and—if needed—another step times three. 

 

walking

The Indian Artist – The Art Between Genders

Whenever I visit my family in India for the summers, one of my favorite parts of the trip is when my grandmother takes me to the street bazaars to get my mehndi done. I sit amongst the bustling crowd on a simple plastic crate, sounds of aunties and uncles in the background, bartering over the prices of everything from spices to table cloths. In front of me sits a young man wearing worn out and baggy clothing, hands stained with mehndi, papers full of practiced designs scattered around. In no time, I have a beautiful design of flowers and vines laid out on my hands in the deep, rich paste. I take immense care in making sure that I keep my hands perfectly still, bumping into nothing and nobody, never disrupting the design. When I get home, I carefully apply a mixture of lemon juice and eucalyptus oil in hopes of ensuring and dark and long-lasting stain.

Mehndi is a beautiful part of Indian and South Asian culture and a form of art in its own right. From a young age, I have always been fascinated with the art of mehndi, the intricacies of the designs, the possibilities with a single cone.

How about a little history? Henna, the plant itself, has been around for about 5,000 years. The plant, which is found in many parts of the world, is a small four-petaled flower ranging from yellow to pink. Twice a year the leaves are harvested, dried, and ground into a fine powder. This powder is used to dye hair and for the ancient eastern art of mehndi. Powder from the henna plant can be fine or coarse and pure natural henna powder can be bright to deep green, khaki, or brown. These powders render stains that are orange, red, burgundy, cinnamon, bittersweet chocolate brown, burgundy-black, black cherry, and near-black in color. Colloquially, mehndi and henna have become the same, referring to the method of applying body art with a smooth silky paste. It is most commonly applied to the hands and feet during times of joy and celebrations. No Indian wedding is ever complete without a Mehndi ceremony.

One thing that always fascinated me about the art of mehndi was the divide between genders. Historically in many places around the world, America included, women were reserved for the “artsy” jobs. While men went off to work in factories and mechanical plants, girls were trained in the arts, learning how to cook and embroider. However, this seemed to be flipped in regards to henna artists. On the streets where you could get a full design done in under ten minutes for 50-60 rupees (not even a dollar), only men dominate. In the professional arena, where bridal henna can cost upwards of hundreds of dollars, take hours on end to complete, and require appointments in advance, there only seem to be female artists in the business. This parallel interested me deeply and was something that I wished to capture in a recent piece of mine.

This piece titled The Art Between Genders captures a male street artist applying henna to the hand of a higher-class woman, as witnessed commonly in India. The foreground is done entirely in mehndi paste, diluted to behave like watercolor. The background is done in acrylic paint and is meant to depict common and traditional henna designs. Through this piece, I hope to spark conversation about the interesting dichotomy I witnessed and spread love for the beautiful art form that is mehndi.

Henna will continue to be a topic of future posts where I will dive into my own experience as a henna artist, building my business, and even tutorials on how common designs can be created. If anything that I discussed in this post stands out or if any questions arise please feel free to comment and share your thoughts.

Looking forward to next Sunday!

 

~ Riya

 

Personal website:   https://riyarts.weebly.com/

 

Empty Poetry

Broken rhythm 

Hits thoughts in

Fallen poetry

 

With lowly rhymes 

Catch-all phrases 

Useless adjectives adding 

 

Pages 

To make twisted 

Alliterated stages 

 

Grasping for spindly straw lines 

 

My fingers immerse themselves 

In words 

To make sentences 

 

Like bracelet beads

Held together by a thin thread 

 

Eyes absorb the colors 

The feeling 

Manifested in

 

The clench of the stomach with music 

And sweat

With meaning