flux the cactus outwards
stretching from your comatose body of air
Inwards and upwards, the abnormalities
with twigs of mahogany bleeding between your legs,
let it out, screeching your skull
till the brim splits and an adroit sleek barrier exist,
Your body, a stoic compressor
of thoughts and sighs
with longitudinal horizons.
Plain and sober.
Breathe and emancipate like a child with doll skin.
You will enter a circle, beneath your fingernails then,
a point of reverberation. Gulp the blank dot of this life.
This evening is a slender fireplace
burning my wet loss of losing you
a loss is a numb attack until felt
and so i see hums, bells sliding between
out cheese skins,
mellow at the bottom, i am a dream of a lavender,
matchsticks burning curtains of you,
you meltdown from the Alps, and my garden
towards a barefoot blue whisper.
A crescent moon born beneath the sway of pulp thighs
Grapevines, nocturnal in hushed nights
observing our warm apple breaths,
floral segments onto our clothes-
my white skirt and your black pants
I burn in such fields of coherence,
cleaving affection as my second, language-
Oh man, your arms of white clay
waning thunders of a white moon
so soft and musical,
unveiling a lantern of fireflies.
And then I make a sketchbook of you
amidst the pale pink flowers,
your name embossed like a manor of bees.
There under the branches of hardened leaves
between the sordid naphthalene balls of kiss
I found you, like a fallen star.
i watched you each day, with magma, ash
and towers of a conundrum
taking spirit in the eye
the eye of aghast
devoid of luminous rays
i wanted to be sweet as rain
sitting on chairs, harmonic choir.
but you smoked me like a cigarette
you did again and again
with holes in the palms
scrawny li’l feet of parasitic words,
interstice hollow, feeble like a white faded star.
I was a star once
sleeping beneath your pillow
that lush land of dreams
until the skewered paths of dust emptied my eyes,
eyes of dreams and kiss.
I was a star, soaked in the tranquillity of moments
moments like fragile china, fragile ring.
Dumb is my mouth, I guess
Sequin pattern of Crooked Moon,
missing like pages,
like words unsaid by my mother to father-
Oh darling, my dear.
A cadence to spit,
sickle of time and lies.
what if my entire body is stones and drugs
with a sound of silence
pieces missing, haywire mercury temperature
like a slurp, books in the air.
Breaking monotony, scratching my innermost thigh skin
and bleeding like the blood of sanguine valley.
How many steps do I have to perform?
To be lost.
to be a volatile air.
Trees of death define people and deeds
Horrors sit and immaculate in ounces of despair
spick and span, the atmosphere that I carry
or abrasive at times,
I do not know much.
The point is i am bleeding like a lotus in a sink.
and I need closure, sun in the fist controlling myself, sulking my aches.
The eyelids are swollen and broken
with scars running through the table and the wet floor
the point is I am lost and surreptitious
like a dried lemon-peel in the air, aerial.
aerial my body, aerial my legs, a cacophony of that.
The point is, I feel pointless at times, like the sip of wine.
I have visuals down my throat of sleepless nights,
potions and pills
and no face of roses in my garden, holes in the punctured air
i have it all in the box
down my body
down my abdomen
and still its all pointless.
p.s-I am back with my thoughts. Yiee.
My motif heart breaks
like a pool of ugliness,
Last night’s love, now a vintage memory
how you mock my love, irritates me.
i revolve like an Earth,
sticking to the mollusc
and i fall.
fall like a group of galaxy
wild animals biting my skin
and I see you nowhere.
Nowhere inside me.
Nowhere uplifting my heavy stoned-arm.
You put me on bed
like an Old Wine to taste
till it drips and bursts.
Torrential streams of rivers of insanity.
I weep like a duck.
I weep like a drunk night.
(Soothing itself with its own light)
I weep and break.
You may ask the perforated sky
with drops of atoms
ripped apart from my chest
like the plunged rose, or honey-nectar.
A void in the sun.
A void in the star. Barren faces of slick dust.
And you will see where you left me.
Lets cut your molten mirror eye
the pain of anguish and beauty.
Paper crux. Purgation and names
Chalice of age,
Eutrophication of breaths.
Missing smiles of Ganges.
A longitudinal filth.
Memories of a cactus walk.
You have the eye to smirk
bodies floating like ghosts
you splinter the seed of skins,
partitions of mind
like a river from Thar.
ravine crux of silhouettes.
Damn! You mirror of molten eye.
Loosely inspired by Sylvia Plath's - Mirror
©Image and words- MVS
all in the fist of sun
drunk like Orange ghost
I sip a string of velvet curtain
palpable strings of night
i take the atmosphere home,
Autumn breaking down,
in need of denouement
a phase of psychosis-
what does a star desire?
or a song to sing itself.
I know I generally don’t do awards but this time I made it an exception mainly because I wanted to answer something about myself as I am in the process of Self- discovery. Many thanks to tinarosepoetry for nominating me for the same.
- Thank blogger(s) who nominated you in the blog post and link back to their blog.
- Answer the 11 questions the blogger asked you.
- Nominate 11 new blogs to receive the award and write them 11 new questions.
- List the rules and display the Sunshine Blogger Award logo in your post and/or on your blog.
- What is your favourite thing about being a blogger or writer?
I feel like blogging is the process of Catharsis for me. It relieves a lot of pain and anxiety making me feel better. The favourite thing shall be writing without giving a damn!
- Where do you get your writing and blog post inspiration from?
My darkness is enough to inspire me.
- Who inspires you the most in your life?
My mind. And if we talk about a person- Audrey Hepburn to an extent.
- How do you deal with writers’ block?
I go crazy then sip a cup of coffee. Then reverse the whole procedure until I am sane to think again.
- What is your favourite thing in the world?
Staying happy and writing.
- What is your mantra?
Expect nothing from anyone and You shall be at peace.
- Best place you have travelled to and why?
None so far to compare. I want more to make me happy.
- Where would you love to travel to in the future?
Paris. Seychelles of course.
- If you were allowed only one item on a desert island what would it be?
A journal perhaps?
- If you had five wishes what would they be?
- World Peace
- My wish to be successful in writing a bunch of poetry books.
- Loving myself more and more.
- Living a couple of months in a tree house, alone.
- Travelling more.
- If you could be anyone for a day, who would you be?
Pablo Neruda, I really want to get inside his way of thinking.
- How do you define success?
- Your favourite blogger/writer?
- 3 things you wish to have right now?
- How do you deal with anxiety, if any?
- Your current favourite passion?
- A dark poetry or love poetry?
- How do you manifest your mind into things more philosophical?
- What inspires you to write?
Ah, that’s all. I really can’t think any other questions as for now.
I feel so different right now to do such a post because mine is an award free blog. But anyways!
Thank you for reading so far.
i do not hallucinate time
and your levitating skin
bluish words, bluish eyes of Meraki,
i count the scars on the nape of your neck
infinite scalds of heaven
pulling life backwards and forwards.
You have an impatient mouth
sundial beds of petunia
faltering sheets of sunbathed sheets,
you prick my lips
like a landslide romancing Moon,
I am awake as i fall
i fall and i am awake
swans of a churlish period.
we took needles in our mouth
producing spring again and again.
silver hum of nights
in the orange casket of my ovary.
© Words MVS
Things return like autumn,
with leaves, shades and colours
as your mountain essence
stick to my collar-bone,
in the moments
of nights, haze, dawn.
One by one,
I circle around
and soaked in your fingers
and memories of the return,
this mahogany burns,
it burns as a bay leaf
in segments and silvery parts
I fall into parts,
your demure pasture of lightnings,
your mushy belly button
your mouth of Jasmine
We made love
to grow old together
to be a single fallen star,
we made love for your return
where I am picked and loved,
like a frozen pea,
in your hand.
And, I wait here
for your return
all like a wool,
Fixation to occur.
it is surreptitious how words rain
during seasons of pain
nectar of firmaments, rising
and deluging into loops of despair
it’s the process of leakage
walking like a cool breeze.
Cold, distilled swollen branches
open your mouth and it’s empty
hollows of ankle melting,
people leak like a morose sigh
a dripping curtain of velvet drops.
it’s the branch
running like the wildflower
the moon is sewn like a conch.
they all will slip tomorrow.
©image and words-MVS
i am made of paper lines,
bisecting and colliding like a scavenger
Pieces of fire fill my mouth,
my mouth of caves and thunder.
unabashedly walking like circles of planes,
fixed dots often scamper my periphery,
holding the deluge of love
holding a river of memories.
Everything swallows itself-
time / people / deaths / despair
mahogany rusty table sinks
and bees flutter like irreplaceable.
My mind delivers sketches of horror
a ghost-like face
hopping city by city
man by man,
melting into a paradox
and harvesting a dilemma.
A chain of imprints.
©Image and words- MVS
I am nocturnal today, like roses building up on my arms
speaking language of Gods. The air is turgescent, dripping lust for words. lust for my beauty. I walk on the arch of windowsills with blue loops of eyes, tingling some sensation. Something unheard before. A voice of metaphors dissolving into my pharynx with lids open. To fly. To breathe.
I curl my lips like romancing with my poetry. With silence dancing on my bosom, sneezing and holding time. Swallowing my body. Words, a conjunction of sanity.
Rhythms and molten patterns of pain and loss. Acceptance and free breath.
I look towards the path of Equinox. Voices speaking untamed fire.
Fire and ice. Ice and pure breaths.
© Image and words MVS
P.s- Also I completed my 2 year anniversary on WP. How amazing is that! Though I did delete my blog once in this span, still I am grateful to this community and my readers.
This vintage arm
is like a faded memory
of streaming hope
the greys and the reds
a turbid of morbid dreams,
Scars slid, dancing,
they seem happy.
Scars are my baby now
my hallucinating body of madness.
pain is my adamant bowl of Ganges.
slipping between fingers of sickle.
Moist, melting inside somewhere
scars, you make me beautiful.
©Image and words MVS
i have a body that whizz like a circus
two eulogies of sanguine madholes
clifts and wars of a drunk man
Loss of vision.Loss of words.
repercussions produce hollows
as deep as a cactus.
My knees producing floating amphibians
Slid my copious throat
you will have two minds again there,
savaging my body
like it's a loss of nothingness.
streaming hot heads of loss.