how- i- live & die

a fallen atom ( calmed tones of a lullaby)
seeps into the skin of my arms, it’s frozen.
hear the nerves being crooked, a bellowing stoned mark.
what happens when this arm dissolves?
like a stubborn piece of cloth
vapours of heavy eyelid swings in the sky.
my mouth is hushed in pain and drama.
and i offer the petals of this body to the God of time,
(the god of sustenance)
i am a rebirth form of elasticity, for scars have expanded,
cloyed the slime heart of mine.
(it’s disgusting)
Words slip out of time, like unfit body parts
into tiny fragments of paranoia.
and i speak like a fool, i think like a fool,
i become a fool.

i sit like an orange patient time
outside, watching and dying
to cut your memory and worth and digest like this soil.
(the drama is in my eyes, the pallor of dropping bosom)
i watch an ant colony,
digging and breaking my monochrome knuckles,
this mouth is finally a bag of silent leaves.


a nameless flower

your skin is a lumberjack
my fingers pricking the whims of your touch,
a vacant room suspended on my white skin,
a chair of your voice,
screaming, aesthetic nerves of the saliva.

i enter your body like a prayer,
again and again with hand-picked chants.
I spread
like butter on bare body,
cold sheets of absent air
sitting on my nostrils like a forgotten star,

love fills the places of vacant walls,
walls leaking
and veins dissolving.
love does that all.

(if my title does not do the justice to the poetry, pardon me)


 

A swallowed truth/lie

Piquant Ray’s
swallowing another vein
outstripping a colour.
A semblance of mouths happen
with a tripping thrust of tongue,
A man dies and another blooms,
eating a piece of time.
syncopated sheets bleeding,
like ruckus of seizures,
does everything lick time?


Book Review – Composition of a Woman – by Christine Ray

So excited for you, Christine.

Nicole Lyons

I was thrilled when the brilliant Christine Ray of Brave and Reckless asked me to read and review an advanced copy of her debut collection, ‘Composition of a Woman’, and let me tell you guys, you are going to want to mark your calendars for its July 31st release date! This book is fire, unbridled, out of control, glorious fire!

ChriComp Cover Design by Mitch Green

Composition of A Woman – Advanced Book Review

Christine Ray’s debut collection ‘Composition of a Woman’ is an extraordinary glimpse into the essence of what it takes to make, and sometimes simultaneously break, a woman as strikingly powerful as she is beautiful.

Christine Ray brilliantly split ‘Composition’ into five thoughtful sections that work together beautifully to deliver the maximum impact of each poem while taking the reader deeper into a stunning journey of the mind, the body, the very soul of this person…

View original post 302 more words

Book Review – Composition of a Woman – by Christine Ray

So excited for you, Christine.

Nicole Lyons

I was thrilled when the brilliant Christine Ray of Brave and Reckless asked me to read and review an advanced copy of her debut collection, ‘Composition of a Woman’, and let me tell you guys, you are going to want to mark your calendars for its July 31st release date! This book is fire, unbridled, out of control, glorious fire!

ChriComp Cover Design by Mitch Green

Composition of A Woman – Advanced Book Review

Christine Ray’s debut collection ‘Composition of a Woman’ is an extraordinary glimpse into the essence of what it takes to make, and sometimes simultaneously break, a woman as strikingly powerful as she is beautiful.

Christine Ray brilliantly split ‘Composition’ into five thoughtful sections that work together beautifully to deliver the maximum impact of each poem while taking the reader deeper into a stunning journey of the mind, the body, the very soul of this person…

View original post 302 more words

the-perceptions-of-life

the way i close my eyes is a seduction.
a clementine red prayer to my body,
with dark clouds. a sleepless child humming.
a black spot spinning in the sky, apparitions of liquid monotony.
it churns the limbs inside
with a mouth of lust.

there is a dark room of closed fists,
fists that shimmer red pain. Inside my mind of a blank page.
a white pure kiss hanging,
like a loop foreheads murmuring a word.

a seizure. a dream. I close my eyes, I see myself floating
alone in the lanes of words, a reverie of mists.
Flowers bloom inside my mouth. Knuckles of painted red nostrils.

This land is pious for I am unknown to myself.
i sneeze like a ghost
with my hands saying my uncanny dreams.
a concoction of love and death.
it’s here, speeding like a wasp.
we walk like ghosts,
sip and drink,
the arching thunders of time,
slipping softly.
hush and be quiet now. Be your own butterfly.


this moment- and me

prismatic broken words,
an uncanny stink of whiskey,
i have evolved like a bee
phosphorescent iron blood
a cloying stink of mirror
a rasp eye stinking,
a yellow pain often talks to me in slumber,
the stirring pain in the canopy,
a blurred opaque Polaroid of nothingness( a favourite word)
it takes a sharp needle to sew the pores,
the segments already ruptured.

i float
in the abstract mouth of liquids,
detonating like stars.

this place i breathe is punctured
like hips of an old lady,
vomits of the unborn in the epicentre seizures,
a mahogany bleeds, in bluish corners of knock.

horizontal bulbs drip blood instead of lights here,
this place of time and death,
a wasp of swollen sigh.
this place does this to me,
in hundreds of mouth,
hundreds of skin.
hundreds of sighs.

________________________________

what remains- time kills

sediments of love and despair,
like a dose of a morbid orchid petal,
throbbing in my blue cheeks
my limbs are rooms, small pavements that you rock
small parts, dilating trembling stairs of life,
a star inside a boxed room of loneliness
revolving in the thicket sheets of air,
a haze and a backache.
a periphery of grapevines, strangling
telling me to be naked on the evil plates of loss.
i bite my lips.
i bite my lips.

my body is nothing but a voice of pain
shredding, autumn leaves
a loose fitted, transitory polar air,
cold, crisp and moist like
a surgeon bisecting my legs, my frozen tongue.
and i am nothing
only a figment of blurred smoke,
ashes like a solid piece of rope.


 

i embraced this pain

untouched by the morning kiss,
a throbbing churning exists in the epicentre of tongue,
a lust, a toothache
starting from my red lips, a reflection of sunset charms
this pain is my baby now, spring’s soft song,
a hush raindrop patting my cheeks.

my two red feet,
conducting a juice of ache,
my pain of body, the missing inch of a finger.
a decoration of walls now,
i embrace the moments of white-faced love now,
my body of thorns,
a galaxy of orange breaths.
i become sunsets dripping blood moon.


 

the time that sticks

you began under my belly
squinting skins of colour,
like a lizard of disgust
a mouth of powder,
father of pains,
pills and potions.

Rub my thigh,
a concave liquid secretes,
you numbed my heart,
the age of 5, father,
the abuses, you kept slipping
you numbed my lips,
the outgrown teeth and hair.

It began like a hoax,
a daydream, soft and fermenting
under my curled lips
and a sudden nightmare of arms,
a sudden floating plethora of body parts.

(Lost my ink once again.)


 

Moonlight

i hear jars of jasmine
 in the pale moonlight
 singing and swallowing
 the day's lie
 the fallen mask of scalded hearts.

the night has a belly of jam and butter
 smooth, a swamp of blood moons.
 a feverish rush of adrenaline,
 saying chants to hypnotize.

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motions of an eye

I wake up like a morose light, struggling to die again.
Like hurricane to lost voices, burning alongside with bare chest, bare hands.
cease and demarcating the thousands of muted language
gushing through my spines and eyes,
My widowed palms are oily, lavender diffuser emptied.
and i perch on the laps of a sleepless blue continent.
This sacred feeling is like a giant whale, eating me whole,
rubbing between its bleeding hands,
distort like a lake, a sky of colourless beams
and hearts set on fire.
I twist in my body more and more,
a little more, into this dreamless barrier of pause.
The spun of itch, the scars.
the flat rooted chest- all like a flower now,
blooming.
i flex my knuckles to count the bones, hallow sinking chunks of skin.
this pain is a flat horizon of a flower.


a nameless land

i am a hysteria of beauty and ugliness,
eloping like a gulf,
a street shop of diamonds, cheap and blemished.
It happens at a time,
I evolve and dupe into my billowing mirage,
eyes lost in a dyslexia of love,
something chuckles inside my flesh of concave mouth
a pink belonging to my entire body,
a paroxysm of a gasp of air running like a haze, in the eye.
I watch this mirror now, the crucifixion of love and melancholy
to my body and scars,
this water lilies emerging inside my teeth,
and i have a swollen left cheek, from the last night’s bite
and a swollen neck, scratching
words of murder,
if i am the saline waters, barefoot
with no signs of lotus.