Today’s topic is one close to my heart and I could hardly wait for Friday, to unburden. So, here’s the thing. We all have someone (Atleast most of us do), who is battling with drugs, substance abuse and dependence. We might even be that person, because the truth is, you don’t really know a person until you know a person. And a lot of time, substance abuse doesn’t always come with a label on the forehead.
We, as a society, have tried shaming people who become dependent on substances (in other words, addicted), and how has that helped? Its only pushed them further into the throngs of abuse. Why? Because when you isolate people, loneliness is a hell of a thing, they delve further into their only constant friend- the abused substance.
Drugs have killed our society and shame has buried us alive. And until we find healthier and better ways of dealing with abuse, we are only building houses with glass ceilings. And those ceilings will come crashing eventually.
We’ve tried the whole- insulting, ridiculing, and making fun of those dealing with substance abuse. But name one person that has helped?! Time after time after time, we shame people from wanting to seek help, with our words and our manners. Read more
We are society.
You, me, her, him.
We are the man with the gun
Bringing an end to another soul;
We are the man on the street,
With hands outstretched
Just one more meal.
We are the woman looking behind
In an empty street,
Hands trembling, praying
for a safe return home.
We are the man with the hoodie
And white powder in his pocket,
We are the kid with the money,
We are society:
You, me, her, him.
We bleed society.
We stain society.
We make society.
We blame society.
It is neither a wall, nor a street,
A road or a bottle.
Society is you and me.
Do you get what I’m saying?
Because children are dying,
And women are dying,
And men and animals
And women are killing,
And men are killing,
Are the cause,
Of the death in our surroundings.
The climate is changing,
For we are polluting,
Then we complain,
The heat is unbearable;
The land shores are flooded,
And that’s not the problem,
The dirt they flow with,
We had thrown-
with our own hands.
The trees- are cut short,
New ones are not planted,
For simply ornaments;
Their forests are burnt out,
The animals homeless,
And yet we are
When they visit our home lands.
Children are dying,
Animals are dying,
At the hands of,
Men and women in our society.
Facebook page: words of a random. Let’s connect!
the above image Is courtesy of My word wizard
I remember when your tiny hands,
Found their home in mine,
With your body resting lightly,
In between my arms,
The rush each night for more milk,
And the tricks to quieten your cries,
I remember it like yesterday,
The day- you became mine.
And the first time you said mama,
When your feet first hit the floor,
Your first tooth and first tooth gap,
My Jaan I remember it all,
When you said you hated purple,
And we fought at the toy store,
How you’d make up, saying I love you,
My Jaan I remember it all.
But they say it is impossible,
Those nine months’ all that count,
They cannot call me a mother,
Since my womb was not your house.
But I’d give up the “mum” title,
To still have you in my life.
And as great of a job, is birthing,
so is raising a child.
The Shock on their faces,
And the line of their lips,
Spoke much more than words,
Ever uttered could speak,
When she stood up
On a 9 am
I was a victim of rape,
There- I said it.
Enshrouded by shame,
And Shadowed by fear,
For five years I wallowed,
Under the victim’s umbrella,
The word- I couldn’t utter,
Four letters of terror,
Hidden by society-
It happened to me.
The shock on their faces,
And the silence abound,
Fuelled up her drive,
As she spoke on her life,
She mentioned statitics,
And looked at the crowd-
Rape- Is a crime,
And shame is a lie.
You’ve a right to your story,
I refuse, to
hide myself behind,
a self made wall of
An image of, satin
gowns on empty barrels,
Whose only action is
To agree without question.
To say yes in conformity,
And say no with the majority.
I refuse to,
Betray the brain matter
I have been created with.
A complex organ of sulci
An organ of comprehension,
I refuse, to be
a machine of pants
to betray my femininity,
and mould into,
What they think
Is best for me-
I choose to wear satin gowns,
with myopic glasses,
A functioning brain matter-
I choose to think.
This is a scheduled post. I travelled and wont be able to get back on until after I am settled. Take care and happy reading.
And she said, I’m going to be lonely,
There’s no one that can handle my tides;
She was echoing the words of her family,
Who’d imprinted in her- she’s too wild.
She had silenced the sound of her laughter,
And glided with- the sway of her hips;
She smiled without showing her fine teeth,
And chewed with her lips tightly sealed.
She dressed with the label- appealing,
For the family approved of it;
And it was only under the night’s Blanket,
She found the glimmer to be real.
Who’s to say that you’re going to be Lonely,
When your fate has been crafted and sealed;
It’s been written by the best of writers
And he’s designed you to be unique.
The above image is courtesy of Chakra centre.org
He was born at a time when society,
Considered men a different specie;
Higher in grade and superior,
Than those with xx in their genes.
He was fed with things he shouldn’t do,
The don’ts which would make him a man-
Crying when hit, playing with dollies,
They were beneath his command.
He was born at a time when society,
Imposed on him right from the start;
Displaying emotions was weakness,
And strength was a sign of men’s pride.
He was broken before realizing it,
I fell in love with a broken man;
Who’s sole fault- being born at a time,
When emotions were bottled inside.
He was born at time when society,
Imposed on men, as it still does today;
And if I’ve learnt anything from the past,
It’d be to raise my son, simply human;
Regardless of society’s enforcements…
The above image is courtesy of Soul Magazine.com P.S this is a scheduled post. I’m currently away, will be back soon. 🙂 thanks for taking the time to read.
All that you are,
Isn’t reflected in the mirror;
And the face looking back,
Is but a twinkle of a star;
The scales that you mount,
They measure lipos and calories;
But the worth of your heart,
Can’t be measured and priced.
When your clavicle pokes up,
Passers-by call you pretty;
So you run extra kilometers,
Spending hours in the gymnasium;
You eat at the brink of starvation,
Feeling dizzy and lightheaded;
But my God, you think it is worth it
Passers-by would call you pretty.
All that you are girl,
Can’t be reflected in the mirror;
It shows you face worth,
Not the reality your soul captures;
And the words passersby throw,
Is but a drop in the ocean;
So you say it ain’t so,
I’m always pretty regardless
The above image is courtesy of Visualize.com
Girls don’t do that,
She was imposed as a child;
Wipe off those tears,
And replace with a smile;
Was a sin in their crowds;
Right from her start,
She was trained to disguise.
She mastered the talent,
Of a face behind a smile;
It was a sin in their crowd;
Bottling up emotions,
Was the only way to live;
Hiding her Brains,
Her job was to be pretty.
And with the sun rose,
An actor ready for the part;
And when the night fell,
Her demons-they befriended her;
For the light brought with it,
A part, society had imposed;
And darkness was a relief,
To the face behind the glam.
Girls don’t do that,
They imposed as a child;
And now they wonder,
Why her sheets are soaked at night.
The above image is courtesy of Thehealthyplace.com