Month: July 2017

Periphery of us.

The pond of breezy footsteps,

The eye of solitude kiss knitted from the colours of pinkish sun,

The ripples of love making in the caress of my hair,

The dusk jotting down the sidewalk with your colourful shadow

Like the blue vintage chair adorned, safe.

You kissed the demons from the whites of my eye,

Like stars blasting colours in the horror sunken sky,

Red, orange , and my heartbeat

Struggling through the narrows of connive heart, the chains of numb finger, into the periphery of you and me.

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More of you.

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Look deep, shades of blue and black

the eyes of satan, the eyes of cupid

the chains of sorrow, the crack of a backbone,

the loss of blood, look harder

into the bowl of rippling water

the gargantuan stay of evil

flickering in my veins

flickering in your veins

rub roses now, dip into holy waters

dip into your reflection

correct the haywire roads

spray the scent on your collarbone

wear the white pearls around your neck

now you shall see

the more of you.

 

Dark-deep-cage.

I hear screech in my abdominal muscle

Lurking deep in my vanity of thoughts

My pillow talks the tales of absorbed tears

The white cover unravelling the bites, the thorns of forlorn chants

The crooked walls of my space shall direct the cave in my eyes

Deep, dark, lost all at once

My tongue feels the pinch as wound inflicted on a tree

I know the cuts, mincing of cherry tomato

Plucking of leaves, trimming the bush

Removing filth, shaking dust

Piling the dead flowers

Even if they wish to dip into the brutality of a numb cracked flooring of a dead house.

And I lie there, tongue-tied,

Stroking arrows of horror, the array of thunderbolts uptight on my white thighs

Watching it turn blue, darker blue and absurdly

All black.

A faded star

 

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Ventilation bursts my shout outside the hole

the frontal lobe of pain puts the pain on

the clamour  my dark pink lipstick

the soil declining to wake me up

Tug of war.

A lie in my pharynx.

the knuckles of my hand

like the cover of a coconut from my backyard

Hard yet soft

Veracity lies in the mouth of wise old man

I hear, the squawk, tearing off the beetle leaf

in the innermost layer of my earlobe

the faint smell of roses striking  off

the underlying scintillating pieces of star

Explosions I hear,

Darkening the repetitions, sketching my  faded outline

with the black soil, no fertility I apprehend.

 

 

Inside Ghosts

Scratch my wounds

In avarice for further scratch

Burst the love seeds, only to discover

Another white layer of ghosts

The area of demure light-house 

swallowing the intransigent reflection 

on the seashore, killing molluscs

Spraying dark colour on golden fish

Peeling the outer space

Like a cold Potato.

Burn my ashes in my mouth

Discovered the inside ghost?

So carry that pointy dagger on my inept

Backbone, spill the blood

Spill on the modish pink cheeks

Turn me inside out

Do you now see? The inside ghost.