My breasts

My breasts say Hello!

My breasts say #whothefuckcaresaboutabeachbod

My breasts say : cellulite, stretch marks, love bites, dark nipples

My breasts feel upset that I wear a minimizer bra! 

My breasts have so many different names across one lifetime

tits

titties

boobs

melons

busts

honkers

gazongas

milk factories

perkies

nice pair

the pyramids of “god this shit is awesome” 

leaky boobs

Leaky boobs

remind me of all the times

women have to hide 

while their babies suck warm milk from them.

My breasts say that

they want to be able to feed anywhere

without having to hide the act,

Do you see cows hiding behind their sheds while their calves feed on them? 

My breasts say they have hair , just like men have chest hair and they are OK with it.

My breasts say ‘more please'

My breasts want the men in this room to sometimes acknowledge my eyes too

My breasts may or may not want to wear a bra all the time 

My breasts say “what the fuck” is a perfect size? 

My breasts hate “la senza”, hate “lovable” , hate any of these brands that cannot comfortably house them

My breasts say “ we dont need your approval” - men on shaadi.com, prospective boyfriends, men who will swipe right on tinder and … women…

women…dont be so hasty to judge a woman by her cover...

My breasts say ‘we are no different than yours. Size is but a number'

My breasts say they like breasts too

My breasts say ‘they know they are a part of me, but do not want to define my identity"

My breasts do not want to be the talked of as the only reason you dated me in high school

My breasts think they are beautiful 

and that them peeking to see the world through my clothes does NOT CALL for rape.

My breasts say that showing cleavage does not justify slut shame.

My breasts say you dont know shit about beauty

my breasts say they know they may get a lump some day

my breasts say they know I may have to give them up some day

so the cancer does not spread,

My breasts say you dont know shit about beauty

My breasts say ‘LEAVE THOSE  LIGHTS ON'

We have spent a lifetime hiding

so shake out of this discontent.

My breasts say

this body

however big or small

is 

mine.

Listen to me as one listens to the rain

Persistent - 

I start my fall 

flow through the mountains with the same fervor 

as i glide along the gutters of this city

excavating tunnels 

drilling myself into silences.

Insistent-

I break into homes 

and gather dreams tucked under pillows

brush away soot from temples 

covering my body with all that summer

nurtured and destroyed.

Indulgent- 

I enter your left ear

find my way out through the right 

I don’t leave any corners untouched

dripping on the nape of your neck

mingling with the sweet smell of your sweat.

Unapparent- 

to you, I am falling from the edge of your cliff

murmuring my last words 

into the serpentine corridors of your twisted being

hoping you would listen to me as one listens to the rain.

Innocent-

enjoying my downpour 

fearless of my light

dancing to my rhythm 

shedding your roof

letting me drench you.

Poetry by Ray Iyer

Photo courtesy Sidd Khajuria via Random Dance 

My body is a wonderland

My body is a wonderland (In John Mayer style)

No no body else sang me this song 

Nobody else lived long enough to experience that magic 

But I loved deep enough and 

Long enough to find my way through... 

Through every bone of me 

Where the cracks were  

Quaking their bodies

Across the expanse of me ....

Morning come 

My eyes rise 

and they emerge 

slowly upwards 

from the cracks 

light . Light. Light 

Through every vein of me 

where the dirt hills 

of all the rotten old memories 

lay themselves in the way 

of my cold cold blood 

Kept flowing 

Kept dancing to the tides 

of the lunacy in me. 

Through the vagina in me 

which was the blessed temple 

where the goddess resided 

who birthed creatures 

that turned her into 

a figure of stone 

Tongue sticking out 

and angry eyes,

and the creatures 

fucked her in the 

name of love 

worshipped her 

in the name of God.

Through the breasts in me 

these mountains and valleys 

of a love so unconditional  

she feeds her children 

And lovers alike

with the same passion 

erupting out in opposing forms. 

Through the unseen eye in me 

that number three 

that exists so silently 

the other two forget

to look what dwells between them.

That beautiful eye

that lets me see you,

Yes, you!  

every crying voice 

such as this poem 

Deep inside of you 

that I wish I could 

discover just like this 

and yank out 

So you discover

the wonderland 

that you are.

Ray Iyer Poetry

Art by Somniferum

Just as once upon a time...

Just as once upon a time 

the eyes of marvel 

you used to see through 

the dark abysses,

when your age was a one digit 

illusion,

when they let you dance to your own tunes.

Just as once upon that time 

you consumed all that fire

in the hope that it would 

light your insides up,

but all it did was leave ashes

covering your soul in grey

but you let your eyes flow

and saw color for the first time in the rainbow your smile was.

Awaken those unpracticed powers 

and feed them belief 

-breakfast, lunch and dinner 

and watch them grow.

Erupting out the layers of doubt 

you are clad in

Love your contradictions 

as you see them

throw your self into her lap

swing as she cradles you 

side to side,

yes the universe wants to know 

herself through you.

~ Ray

Movement

As I sit on this aircraft flying back to Mumbai after my short work trip to Uganda sipping on some cola with water (learnt from a man in Kampala to mix water to regular coke to reduce the sweetness of it) it hits me that I have been constantly moving since the end of December. What could possibly be so constant about being on the move? Nothing I suppose. No wait! There is a pattern. I see it slowly emerge and make sense to me. There is something happening silently in the background as I pack, unpack, pack and then unpack again from the journey waiting for the next to start. I feel myself less attached to the things that bothered me. Something that brought tears to my eyes before I took off to Kampala from Mumbai , now seems like a fading impression on sand. As if all this movement just comes as wind blowing and changes how some things seem. First I don't believe it. I try wearing that emotion on like the dress I tried at the national theatre market this morning. I wear it on top of the clothes of emotion present in the here and now - for lack of a place to totally strip myself off and try it on my bare body. And I don't feel the intensity of it on me, I can see it but it doesn't touch me anymore.

I suddenly feel like I have just been hit by what has been taking place under my nose all this while. This is not new to just this trip to Kampala. I remember feeling different about so many things after a round of traveling and letting myself soak in a new city , it's people, culture, food, weather and language.

I also realize that I cannot confuse this sudden change in perspective to becoming indifferent. I think it is a natural process of getting clarity for what something really is. Something that movement and opening up oneself to the unknown brings.

As I slowly learn to travel light - something I never could few years ago- I see with every trip I leave behind what is not wanted - and my bag is only full of essentials- the absolute essentials I know I will need. I feel the baggage of my soul slowly getting lighter... until I feel so light I am ready to fly , again.

~ Ray