And there was war in haven;
building tension of rebellion,
and overflowing turbulent waves.
Raining scarlet, iron hail.
Slaughtering and piercing into the
very innocence of ignorance,
and comfort,
and childhood.

The war in haven?
Adolescence prevailed!
Spectators celebrated, bloody khangas,
and yellow bananas and green vegetables,
and iron deficiency.

Sacred haven looked back to the days of solitude.
Undisturbed bliss.
Premature follicles.
Never had it requested for showers of fertility’s blessing.
Not with the malice that came along with it.

Having transcended to the point of no return,
as its nature, formidable,
demands reluctant acceptance.
Choiceless.
Sheer ambivalence.
For by it, the proclamation of current declared,
Seeming rather endless with current sight.
Periodic war in haven.

Chunchu.

***
I’m not so sure whether I should outline what this poem is about, but the painting, of whose texture I absolutely love, was driven by the thought of ambition. Self-construction, career path…solitude. The brush strokes, I love those too. And the head – it looks like a 3D afro, and a brilliant mind at the same time. Like a bunch of books building upon each other, like knowledge and creativity just building up to greatness. I enjoyed doing this piece; small though it is, it weighs heavy! (Human figure works is still a field I’m yet to perfect, and so this was a fairly good shot. A brilliant mind.)

 

Cheers to a sea long of learning!

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