kola and ruti

This article 
comes in four parts.

the hurting
it began with an itch 
at the back of my neck
subtle,
tolerable.
but with every passing day
i began to find it
harder
to ignore.

dear rupi kaur
i know i'm not the first 
one to say it 
and i won't be the last.

i've tried to keep it shut
every time someone mentioned 
you or 
your work
i smiled and nodded
but what i really wanted to
ask them was 
"is that… poetry?"

the loving
your complete disregard for
sentence case
is commendable.
lack of punctuations 
other than full stops
and occasional commas
great.
i appreciate the 
rebelliousness of it.
it reminds me of street 
art.

a lot of the thoughts in 
your poems are nothing 
short of beautiful
they're bold, raw and 
even empowering at times.

the breaking
is this getting difficult
to read yet?
good 
you're starting to understand
my pain.

there is a lot to love
i wont deny that.
your 
messages are important
but the way you've
put them down on 
paper
sound all too familiar
they're nothing 
i have not heard before
they do not sound musical 
when read out loud
most of the pieces
are repetitive, clichéd and
no different 
from the thousand 
other tumblr posts.

but what has broken 
me the most
is the merciless 
hammering of the Enter key
over
and 
over
and
over again
until -
perfectly complete sentences
have been broken down
and placed in separate lines
stripped off of their impact
until -
all life has been
sucked out of them.

the healing
if there's one thing i've
learned from you
it is 
that the best way to heal is to
make art 
and this 
is my
form of catharsis.

it is difficult for me to digest
but i think i'm
ready to
accept that
if 
Duchamp's bicycle wheel
can be considered revolutionary,
and memes are
equivalent to art,
your work
can very well
be called poetry
and a good one at that 
cause 
there are tons of people
unlike me
who admire your work
and find solace in it.
i can surely appreciate that.

but even so 
i'd say this rant 
has better line breaks than
most of milk and honey.

Disclaimer: The writer only speaks for herself. Works of art are subject to criticism, and this is hers. If you hate her views, write a poem about it.