Your Expectations…

I don’t talk much,
Not about the past anymore,
Not about how X hurt me, or that I went through Y,
I don’t speak of all the pain, struggle, the number of times I have wanted to end my life, end it all for good,
But that doesn’t mean I’m over it,
That doesn’t mean I don’t feel,
That doesn’t mean I don’t know your pain,
That doesn’t mean anything.
Stop your mind from jumping to conclusions,
Stop your ego from judging me.
My story is mine, I will share it if I need to,
And I’d only need to, to help lighten your load.
I don’t need it to hold grudges or blame,
To whine or stay stuck in a moment long gone.
I don’t need to prove the tons of things I’ve gone through,
I don’t need your sympathy,
I won’t explain myself for your egos satisfaction.
Free me from your expectations,
Because I won’t, I absolutely won’t live up to them.
– Ramona Arena, 3rd September, 2018.

Heroes..

(**PROFANITY ALERT**)

 

All of you heroes

You wannabe knights in shining armor

Think you can rescue a damsel in distress…

I have 2 words for you –

1. Fuck

2. Off.

This stupid game of pretend you play

Is my daily reality.

Fully convinced only you have the secret code to remove the spell,

Only you hold the magic key to release the curse,

Your kiss alone, shall rescue the princess!

Breaking news for you,

It can’t and it won’t.

Fool yourself, but I see through.

This is not from your heart –

Not even good intent

So spare me your illusion

The speech of unshakable love.

It’s your lame man ego is all –

The hunter that rules the house;

The one in the drivers seat that needs no directions;

The one that can fix everything, never needing to ask for a hand.

Keep running around your own house

With your super hero cape and mask.

Wash your dirty hands.

Rinse that filthy mouth.

I’ll say it again –

I see right through you

No. You cannot fix me.

I’m not a fucking experiment

I’m not a fucking toy

I’m not an exciting riddle to crack.

Don’t wanna be your muse either

To be tossed on a whim, into the trash.

See unlike your inner coward

I actually do invest

I traverse all my millions of fears

Believing in your best.

But this cold blooded creature now,

Has built an unrecognisably hard shell,

Retracting  within a second

Cuz your ‘commitments’ fail the smallest test.

So I say this yet again,

With much respect

Fuck Off you heroes

You ain’t got a chance in hell.

– Ramona Arena 2016

Of Fairytales and…

Stupid girl

Gullible fool

Can you not see through

What he’s trying to do?

It’s the oldest trick

Experience can’t hide

He won’t take no

It’s a matter of pride.

So stop being daft

Prancing in your bubble

This unicorn’s a dragon

He’s good at nothing but trouble.

Stop listening

To all he says

Use the brain you’re given

Don’t be another number in his bed.

– Ramona Arena 2016

 

Communicate…

Am I meant to speak through thoughts divine?

Am I meant to limit myself to words?

If I speak through my heart

Will you hear me clear?

Or must I resort to using hands and eyes?
There is no bottomless pit.

Even the ocean has a floor.

So why fear the unknown?

All that is meant to be revealed,

Is unfolded, inevitably!
So come, my dearest love

Lay with me

Among the dandelion meadows instead.
-©Ramona Arena 2016

And then we said goodbye.

And then we said goodbye.
This time it was real.
All the years of waiting
Closed with an official seal.

I am free again.
To live life with a smile and shine,
Thank you for your generous understanding,
And to the universe for being so kind.

-©RamonaArena, 2015.

Succumb

Why is it so hard for me
To break through these walls of denial.
Why can’t I see they are only made of paper,
Not steel.

Why does it seem impossible for me
To allow myself just a tear?
Must I always resort to intoxication
To let loose or a find a momentary escape?

Why do I have to hide behind words
And filters that conceal my lines,
The story hasn’t even begun to be told,
But the end is clearly in sight.

If only I could shake the truth I know, out of me
Like the falling leaves of October.
Would it be so thoroughly shattering
To accept that I still miss you?

Could the vulnerability reveal a comforting shadow?
Could the weakness reduce me to a baggage tag that reads ‘fragile’?
Either way, this debate of submission,
Is a sweet pain I’ve grown to love.

It’s the oxygen in my lungs
That keeps me alive,
In the same way,
That it allows me to disintegrate until mortality claims my soul.

-Ramona Arena 2014.

Hush

Hush.
Shhh.
Don’t say a word.

Unless your fingers and tongue
Tell my bare skin what you heard.

So hush.
Quiet.
Don’t you dare speak.

Let tepid pearls of consolidated sweat,
Have us drown in saccharine sheets.

-Ramona Arena 2015.

The Idiots’ Guide To Me.

My smile is for you to understand
My cheeks are for you to cup with your hands.

My eyes are for you to see the reflection of my perfection
My hands are your eternal reassurance, beside you in every direction.

My ears are for you to nibble on and tease
My lips are to comfort you and put you at ease.

My song is for you to hear and know.
My heart is for the seeds you want to sow.

My trust is a gift for you to celebrate
My happiness is yours to creatively elevate.

My mind is for you to appreciate and excite
My body is yours to devour till I die.

– RAMONA ARENA 2014.

Hide.

Who are you?

Standing there in the shadows

Of filthy streets, of urban treats.

Who are you?

You that hides in the darkest cloud of gray

Cooling, watching.

Why are you?

A peeping mass,

Drowning deep, a lumpy carcass.

I see the gutters

You be hiding in.

Even rats for you, do weep.

-Ramona Arena, 13th September 2015, Mumbai.

Where shall I point my finger?

‘Congratulations!! It’s a perfectly normal and healthy baby girl!!’

Most people would be thrilled to hear that. But then again many would consider that to be a disappointment, a burden, a result of bad karma, a tragedy or a reason to get pregnant again, hoping this time the Gods’ won’t curse you with another girl child.

I’m not here to judge, I’m just thinking out loud and trying to understand – why for generations, a girl, a woman has been seen as an inconvenience, not just by men but by women too. So this time, I’m going to place the ball in your court and ask you 6 questions. Take your time and think about it. I would love to hear what all of you – male, female, young, old etc have to say. And of course I know I am generalizing here – there are exceptions, but we’re looking at the larger picture.

*Please don’t reply with it’s our culture/tradition/religion; unless you have actually read up on your culture and can send me facts to back up your statement. Facts don’t include what your parents, teachers, guru babas said.

1.     Why is it expected that a good wife will cook, clean, look after the house, bear children, attend to them, to her husband, his family and tend to every need each of them may have and go to work whilst a good husband will go to work – all else is beneath him?

2.     Why is this ‘good’ wife an even better one if she quietly bears the brunt of his stress – be it emotionally, sexually, physically or mentally?

3.     Why is a single woman frowned upon and called a slut if she enjoys sex, but a single man is patted on his back and called a stud if he does the same?

4.     Why is it so hard for single, independent women to find apartments to rent whilst if there are men, it’s no problem at all?

5.     Why is she a bad influence, not a fit candidate to take home to ‘mother’, if she wears clothes that show skin, lives her life her way, has lots of male friends, tattoos, parties, smokes and drinks?

6.     Why is she too much to handle if she isn’t afraid to stand up for and be herself? Why is her opinion not worthy of being voiced?

I know most urban women will relate to at least one of these questions. We have all experienced these situations directly, seen it second hand within families, amongst friends and with house-help too. I know a lot of men who seem very liberal and open minded but when it comes to their own wives, sisters or daughters, something kicks in and everything that was acceptable suddenly isn’t.

If you could help me understand why we as a society (again not just men) discriminate against our own, I would be able to find peace and make some sense out of what we are doing to ourselves. It’s easy to point fingers, bash, blame everyone and the government!

But before I choose sides in a seemingly never ending blame game, I just want to ask –

How many of you mothers have knowingly defended the wrongs of your sons, husbands and fathers; how many of you have oppressed your daughters; secretly favored your son over your daughter – yet she is the one you expect to look after you in your old age; taken abuse silently – verbal or physical; judged other women based on their appearances?

How many of you women have thought it was okay for your mothers to behave this way? And let it continue?

How many of you men have treated women badly even in the smallest way? Accepted parents/ in laws hitting their grown daughters? Thought certain women need to be taught lessons? Told a woman how to behave/dress? Asked for dowry? Expect her to do all the housework? Watched women get teased, tormented, harassed in public and just walked away minding your own business?

I state again, I am not judging or condemning anyone here. But if there is an inner voice that (despite the obvious external discomfort) identifies with an ‘I have’ to even one of these questions, I think it’s time that we remember to look deep within each of ourselves, before pointing fingers outwardly.

There is no denying – A change must begin.  But it only begins within – regardless of religion, education, social standing, wealth and gender.