i talk to the breeze
like a hum
in my dreams,
or a foot in my mouth
violets in my system
my jaws sing your name
in the timeless mirth
of ginger talks
of lotus love,
blooming in the dirt
Stay my love
to be stitched
in my memories
that still crave for stars
like lost in the air.
Stay my love
inside my loose septic nostrils
fill my loops
with dews of hiccups
stay like a poetry
and sing rhymes of sorority.
Strangled knots of colourless dreams,
poking the inside of my mind
smooth as a lullaby
dark as your sins,
it's a mercury dropping a dust
into the mole of my face,
with your callous hands,
your callous words,
the dirt is what stops the heat-
The dirt is what fades a star,
and the monsoon stops at once.
I find no motivation here, things are abrupt. My writings have ruined I feel. Call it a writer’s block or whatever the fuck, I just don’t feel like writing and my creativity has been literally coiled in loops now.
I might close by blog, I might not. But surely I know, no one cares!
Peace and light to all.
Photographs are blurred memories,
of faked, chipped, plastered walls
cracking like walnuts,
eating its own body-
Walls & bones dissolving
inside the tooth of dust,
memories can be fatal,
if picturized or vandalised.
All memories collide inside flaky cheeks
producing abhorrence of stars,
like a parasite
to your naked soul
& exposes the flimsy spots
of your entire galaxy.
Like the black spots
of a beautiful bird.
Wax droplets memories afloat.
i have a tongue of colours
with rooms of spaces,
mapping you & me.
A Polaroid stitch of sinking,
erupting in my hollows
i have an eye like the sky-
drugged, fuller lips
with ashtray of hopes,
I spin in my own body,
toes kissing head
heads going missing-
like a reality fading,
Is it a kind of operation taking place?
Anxious hair fanning my tanned skin,
I carry children & autumn
both sleeping in my dreams,
you faggot skinned- mammal
and you smirk my Lilly shadows
I was the one
with bruises and stones
in my mirror-eyed reflection
a reflection of you, mother
the cacophony of time and hours
floating inside your eyes,
the heaviness of pebbles and rituals.
Your arm mocked your cerulean breast,
with its swollen stigma of memoirs
and some pictures, vintage.
I combed your concave mouths
of dripping forlorn fractures,
like a staircase bleeding
or a topology reversed and processed.
I am a soft song in your black-knitted bun
a piece of your chipped nail,
a sunflower, kissed and harassed
inside your turbulent head.
A cauldron, and a day full of nights
hid beneath your muffled chin,
a mole hanging beneath your shouts and dim- dreams.
Mother, you are a pool of madness
and a point blank.
Obscure, shadowy your tongue knits tears
and a sweet thread of touch, impeccable.
Sometimes, I glint in your orange censure
a pattern of love and you,
Your body is a dream.
and I fall in your loops of laps.
the uncontrollable seizures,
the uncontrollable laughters,
Scarlet red wires.
it’s all you, it’s all you.
in the folds of time,
a soft music exists
humming your songs,
tunes and a black river-
with a piece of forgotten fingers,
what not -
in your maps of the tongue
& wild bridges,
like nothing existed
i want to discover the process of sanity & amorphism
where i can discover pure breaths, inundating through little grass
like grasshopper smoothening my skin, eating my aches and sins.
The whiteness of this overloaded sky, perforated as my pain
I want to swim in the sky,
tearing off the sky-dress, lightning dripping like blood,
i want to swallow my body, entirely
with hoops of squelching words,
i can be a nurse for a day-
meadows of hospital beds, soaked once again
or a nun perhaps-
praying till i become a forgotten prayer,
in the minds of rapists & narcissists.
Walking like a shadow,
over the blue’s of water, i can eat the fish
and become one.
Threads of burden tangle your body
like a clinged kite, knives.
This Skin is transparent, like a stitch to spew,
to flatter the moments of despair.
The bruises occur,
with an open mouth
an empty sheet of braided dreams
this skin claps and claps
with a bowl of spewing lotus,
and a hollow dripping hocus-pocus
Peppermint& honey drops
with earbuds sagging,
this skin melts,
in the oceanic mouth of yours.
Or this skin divides
in my repetitive sins and sins.
I gasp and pray
till my body collapse
with a dying hint of clove,
wafting breeze of paddy fields
this skin smiles.
Like polaroids humming
in the crux of
my immune skin.
INSTAGRAM- MY VALIANT SOUL
Some people I see these days are like
broken paragraphs of my poetry
with a missing meter and inconsistent gravity
Detonation of disgust pits and addition of volatile
vodka stammers my insipid vision.
Half moon, half-blood, half mouth covered,
like a decomposition of the great Odyssey.
Some people these days are like
Vintage tributes( but unfamiliar, surreptitious).
With a bumblebee of summery sky,
they bite your pure coltish recently built home
Some people these days exists like this
till they tangle your knots into miseries.
-My valiant soul
image courtesy- Pinterest
My nights are inked
to the soiled sheets of tears
where the callous jaw bleeds inhuman poison,
or a thing pale as your heart
i sew it up to my nostrils, cold
the fragrance, shrieking my inside pits,
its dark, like blank spaces
Everything seems to be a show- off
your hands, your lips
my intelligence to care,
the nights turning them into molten pieces,
i die and become a ball of clay,
stuck to my body,
a parasitic drop of blood.
And there i lie
all dead and black,
with hemisphere dwindling,
and mouths missing
white thick slurp of warped words,
darkness runs in my heart,
like a lighthouse to my dreams.
your slurpy mouth holds magic
to sediment a stoic seed
of silence, like silence.
calm shades governing,
a tip-toed saliva of blank eyes,
a life kissing a life.
behind your earlobe,
the sky falls,
in tunes of carbon
thick slices of carbon.
coal romances with fire,
life exists everwhere.
Run among the Autumn leaves. Run among your cascading bruises. The skin that is swollen now, the eyes which are full of jaundice, even if fingernails fall. Run.
Beneath the tree, under the valley, rub your scars, screech, shout, rub your scars again till you faint , naked facing the mirror of life.
To die or not to die, we all came to buy the bourbon once. The stale cracking lies you hold, the mask that you spit each day, dark, humid drums.
I carry in my mind, the eyelids yearning to be opened now. The electricity of sugar and salt concoction.
Take a pause. Survive. Ascend, Descend. Burn the walls like floating miseries.
Fall in Love with the fireworks inside your mind. Defeat. Put fog inside your collar bone, powder your dreams. Choose colours again. Red, mauvy red, Magenta.
Splash the cold water, like opening poetry lines, oh now you get me?
Run, Discover. This is life.
Hola, my dear readers!
It has been ages since I have done a pep talk with my soul or anyone about my writings of late. I know a lot of you love my surrealistic poetry, yet since past a few days I am unable to feel the flow as if something is missing. Not a writer’s block, but something anonymous perhaps. It irritates you know. My inspiration is growing into a thick rope of fungus. My mind is stiff.
And, I also wanted to thank all my dear reader’s who have read me in depth like crazy. I might not say it each time, but I genuinely appreciate your time. Also, I might be irregular with my poetry as things are insane inside my mind but hope you will continue reading me. Saying that I still follow my rule of following any blog that interests me. Period. At times, I write on my Instagram account, but managing all these social media is surely not my cup of tea.
I will rather stick to this beautiful community. I am also working on my books yeah I know it is taking time, still I have to do it, besides that my work is scheduled in some of the magazines and that’s all.
Nothing much exciting, I guess!
Love & light~^^