Shades of emotion-the black-the red-the grey

Image result for red and black

The Black

Hoops of the anxious soul are hanging in the most voracious way.I hear thunder, rustling silence.This is my first phase, anger.

The intimidating red eyes. The eyes of satan, they say. The faded shades of grey, charcoal, as my wrist remain crossed.

I put my wrist on top of my forehead.The sagging forehead.

The conundrum geography exists right here, sharply ecstatic.

Hot wax, profound depth, a lingering cold wave.

A dark, gruesome heart.

A ghost- like canopy of thoughts.

The Red.

This is a melancholic phase.

A lugubrious red sorrow shining on my pinky finger, the tales of the darkly skinned elbow.

the bends on my skin, my crooked skin.

the way sky forms uneven patterns,

leaving us bewildered of the richness, the great creations.

All I see is complexities, the bars of a collision, gateway of numbness.

A stoppage.

The vague dreams.

Now the heart is crooked.

The Grey.

A wave of cornered soul resists like the last droplets of rain.

Tiring yellow pages, not desiring to be read further.

Monotonous paths, monotonous tones, monotonous human.

I kiss my pain in a breezing way, hugging my own doleful pits.

the screams forms chains of comfort, the sky is indicating a pattern,

the crookedness is recovering into a deeper hole

name it comfort?Name it a bliss. Oh!Don’t name it.

As it’s still  a vivid hole, murky,

dark, distilled in my conscious, collided with my mindset,

it’s grey here, my palm is feverish

my eyelids are the coherence of deeper shades of grey

this is the phase,

this is the ultimate revival, mystical.



 

Paper Pens and Pills/Devika Mathur

So happy to see my work among the fine writers!
Thank you Christine.

Whisper and the Roar

DavikaForget me not in the sacrosanct lie of your humour
You emerged from this naked soil and swallowed me in your spotted stomach,
there I married the curved paper, a velvet pink heart to spill the wounds
And then I saw the pills, the sturdy roses seeping from the pills you took,
a migraine, hallucinations, heartbreaks, I have written all
I have conjured your eyes in the dead sky,
And then I have seen sparkles and cries wrapped in your divine pubis
Warmth of the ice and icicles formed on your purple pupil
suffocates a pregnant lady on the road.
I am your muse, my dear
The abhorrence here detonate you,
mould you into a spider’s web.
Frost of sick tear-like volcanic eruption sticks to your toenail
I write it…I swallow and swallow
until you pour alcoholic cotton on your fiery tongue.
This time is a meteor in your sand-like…

View original post 49 more words

Some things to say!!#3

Allright so my dear readers this is a kind of reminder to all to please know the importance of this blogging community.

I am here to write down my emotion through my poetry and prose and on the way I have met splendid writers which I really look forward to.

But off late I have noticed the kind of comments I get and the kind of follows I  am getting that really just is annoying. I do not wish to chat here about my personal stories and this for sure is not a dating site. I by no means will allow that and will not follow you back until you captivate me in some way or other!

So kindly give reverence and get reverence likewise!

_My Valiant Soul

Recurrence

Excrusius

A death star dissects my white bare skin

And lanterns of judgments evolve like the zombies of oblivious sand

The peppermint of the next hour circulate in my iris,

Unconsolidated reverie of prayers,

asking the same coherent word.

Promises, a fallen star, destruction

all are in symmetry if one leaves other stays

Inch by inch I grow old, I see old music swaying on my freckled palms

Day by day, something occurs.

Numbness, lust, numbness. A prostitute cries and seduce.

I revolve around your milky lie, willing and wishing.

Thistles and apple grow across my ceilings, and the moment is a serenity.

I count my blood day and night, counting back and forth

to detect a sacrosanct lie, to detect a dead emotion

Illusions, Temple-bells, deaths, births, Bible verse,

I savour the ink and spray a molecule of each on my strawberry neck,

flavours and index of fortune float in the melancholic ebb.

The winter winds throw tantrums and my ex-lovers burn in disgust,

burning half lit cigarettes onto my fallen dying lips, making my body into ash.

Chopping and chopping the undone mistakes,

Probing into fathoms of undissolved wax of recurring spindle collision.

©My Valiant Soul


Sunday and Breakfast

Here, I speak the truth to you,
the lies of occupation in appealing people’s sorrow
and the green urban dirt— a ghastly deduction of smiles
makes me a crooked vase of emptiness.
Monday: oh, it pours the spikes in my stomach
and churns the pancreas till the heart bleeds.
Saturday: a monotonous tone of soils parching,
producing fungus and mushrooms
Nothing remains, a wall of concrete harmony.
This tongue here craves the stardust of sunshine if any.
Something between moist eyes and moist thighs goes missing,
something between the linings of bricks and charcoal is vintage epoch.
The aprons, the tables, the cigarettes
the Sundays and the breakfast of savouring
my thunder, clasping the pharynx of my scandalous worth
is my favourite.

©My Valiant Soul


Observe

A desperate need to go far away

Did you hear the storms and see the opaque thunders?
The time when a body is a box of twitches and imperfections
like pervasive corrosion of diamonds,
too deep and too broad to demarcate a periphery.
A thunderbolt is riveting inside my earlobe.
A thin film of vintage cassettes play the sorrows,
trembling in the momentum of hurricane body.
Ransacking inner soul to find a twitch, a glitch.
A pack of stars drowned in the blue hemisphere
Music: an extension of crooked smiles,
Swaying of broken memories and false hopes
Is that you hear too?


©My Valiant Soul

Scissors and Thorns

image credits- Pinterest

Penumbra, walls of construction, destruction
black coherent cathartic squalid eyes
numb crooked vertebrae floating
in the liquid air, my body becomes a coffin.
Enfeeble basket of black roses resides in my cracking eyes.

I take a pause, and visit the old creaking house,
haunted and mahogany drooling
over my burning piquant skin,
I feel a co-existence between
the supernatural and the living
Dents of loose threads of hope
circulate, biting my skin, biting my tongue,
biting my amorphous vapours of sick solitude.

I want to weep today, scarring my acidic eye
the hypocrisy, the swollen balls of abhorrence scar me.
I am a vexatious taboo.
How is sustenance a need?
Even the sky dies at night.
I evaporate, disintegrate, amalgamate
only to be a broken piece of an elongated lie.

©My Valiant Soul


Things I crave

 

 

Serge Ivanoff
image credits- Pinterest

 

I sit beneath this concave moonlit and put my ink on my naked body tonight.
I count the loses and the victories I have had, the outnumbered lips of kisses and the bottles of venom. I draw a map to the moon, I draw stars to my breasts.
I crave the branches of this grapevine romancing with the blueberries.
I crave my frosty lips sucking the zeal out of the chilled beer.

This place, this soft breeze benedicts the wisdom. It teaches about multiplication and deduction. A topology of human indeed is dust. The slick fingers often do not regenerate and the countless stars are only to make your skin sullen and eyes full of baked memories. Winters are the unsaid words from your beautiful carbon mouth. Thousands of Aurora skin glitter around your geometrical waist.

I crave the poetry of your eyes. I crave the potion, religion, purity from your skin. I crave words. I crave flowers dancing on a hillside.
I crave horrendous veracity from your writings.

The world shall seem mystical, where the peacocks might sing the 80’s song. Hilarious gloomy nights often teach you the truth of your life. “Nothing is forever”

I crave the smell of daffodils. I crave the sultry nights of desiccated romance from my veins and the continuous burning smell of my cigars.
I crave wisdom, I crave wilderness.

©My Valiant Soul


 

Anonymous Bond

Indian-Tradition

Do you hear me breathing? In the moments of translucent air,
where our breaths collapses and cling onto each other,
where the crooked walls burst, like jackfruit ripening
purple colours pouring onto our bed covers here I breathe
contours of sparkling waters brushing my dead spirit, fully awake.
The screams, shouts, jingle,
And splashing of Ganges water on my shivering feet,
Awake, awake, awake.
Spinning the floor, spinning in your mind, do you hear me breathing?
I draw my gold carvings on your teeth, on your body
where the twinnings of winter tree is chopped,
You hear the chopping?
I extend my feet, they are poetry.
I extend my white cadaverous feet on your sturdy shoulder,
Do you hear me wheezing?
Do you see a lake of satisfaction splashed on my arms now?
Do you see, do you hear my red songs?
You are my canvas. You are my unnamed bond.



 

Catharsis

Image result for pain art

I have selfish bruises on my white index finger,

Quisling pack of cigarettes yet my favourite lover,

I have pain carved around my parched mouth,

Thorns and roses bloom in my inner thigh

I have seen death with open eye

An extension of chewed electrons of despair

assiduous diamond of shaved flower,

This moment is death, this moment is an Odious ball of catharsis.

©My Valiant Soul

 

Skins Of Skins

Image result for lust art
image credits- Gottfried Berlin

Latitude of your strawberry eye in congruence with my winter skin
where a pool of weeds evaporate sinking into the outlandish touch,
A loop of anomalous cogent thread arise in the windowpane of your heart,
I see the Earth, the moon and my teeth cracking your Universe,
For I reside in your skins of skins.
Quixotic eyes that spill the poetic halcyon of star-dust,
like the friction of two naked bodies romancing on the naked moon,
I see you evolving, a robust wild bittersweet flower,
I see your palpable heart, and my lips breathing Skins of Skins.

©My Valiant Soul


Invincible for Once

Infront of me I see a stack of leaves,
dwindling in the joyous cool breeze
The neem tree singing its prayer,
A prayer to soothe my skin.
The petals of pink orchid thrum the formidable chants of love,
I listen and absorb the essence into my cloud-like body.
I hear whistles of raindrops, I hear the whirling of thunders declaring a palpitation.
Throbbing of earth, romancing of rains with the parched earth.
Blooming, blooming, blooming.
Birds perching on my window heart.
I hear my sheeny cracks of bone,
Waving, twirling to declare
An emotion, a feeling, isn’t it the same?
My thighs throb, flowing in the air among the glossy grass.
Can you stop my this flow?
Invincible I will become.

As-I-Worship-Winter

 

image credits- Pinterest

 

Romancing with winter involves more than seduction to its frosty night. There is a pit darker inside the walls of a colossal ball of shadow. A shadow where skins of lost soul bloom. A pool of infinite kisses. The chills of silent lustrous night expand in the most imposing manner, like the feathers of peacock romancing with the rain.

The icing on the cherry-trees, the dew of the moon stuck to my window panes that resemble my naked face. Oh, I am beautiful.

Emancipation from the shallow hollows of palm, I see patterns of sweet nectar dripping from the sky, drip by drip, onto my cheekbones and I am a lyric once again.

The full moon shares its forlorn stories to my healing lips. I am a partner in solitude and war. It teaches me the art of sustenance—flourishing like the wild sunflower. The touches of laughter of the newly born, the spiritual talks of the old ladies, dedicate me more to the flowers of Winter.

I emerge from the last rains and beneath the elasticity of murmurs, I inhale potions of infinite joy.

©My Valiant Soul


 

I am you today

image credits- Pinterest

In the melancholic time,
when the dark howl craws
In the harrowing soils mask,
where the river flow is backwards
I bask in the sunshine,
towards the bridge of memories.
my skin knits
I am sun-kissed today,
like a morsel of apple-pie
sulking on my white bare skin
I am a memory today.
where the sweet honey clings my tongue
pouring my holiness into your laps
I am a pattern to be formed, embellished
I am aliferous today, this moment.

©My Valiant Soul


Together

Image result for romance art

This orange leaf splinters further,

reflecting your beautiful naked skin to me.

In the pool of stars, I feel the icicles of chills

Spreading onto your neck, spreading onto your lips.

I count breaths between your lips and my moist temple-like mouth

Engulfing charisma of your liquid veins, I stand still to weave a knot of adoration,

from the stars of your Lilly- thighs to my oblivion body.

©My Valiant Soul