and you need to know
the music of love
silently, dripping from the sky.
Take your time
to know the flower,
the process of assimilation
mulberry touch of the warm earth.
Silence comes in surreal ways.
drink the nectars of blue lips.
Let it be,
the hanging clouds or your numb Cheeks.
Nature injects sweet nights often
disguised in a tunnel of metamorphosis.
Let it sit and evaporate slowly,
a skin so fresh and sublime, now.
A murder of a cold night
for grief is a slumber of dead skins,
The whole of purgatory is a lie of pale belching mouth.
Sip the nights now,
A tomorrow so bright, hanging on your verandah’s rope now.
What is that sits on my backbone?
a dissection of reality/
Look around. Pause. Breathe,
walk across this painted room.
A purple heartbeat,
veins of the neon moon glowing,
a facet of criss-cross dreams,
amniotic sheets of sun-baked earth,
observe, wait, observe.
It's an alchemy of genius masterpiece.
Whirl like topaz,
hear exhaustive voices, all like a mother-daughter relation.
Watch a point of Stagnation. Reverberation. Too much cold.
and carry the footsteps behind,
live, live like a flower on a naked body.
There are no cloying questions of life.
You will fail if you swallow life.
Don’t fidget about the atmosphere.
Observe these crazy annoying things in your mind.
Lillies blooming and dying.
Things as soft as a petunia.
Things are as dark as my mind.
Let them slip, oiled and kneaded
into the stack of insomnia and other wild things.
Do not think.
Conjunction of mind is a beautiful process.
So let it be.
Speed creating a sliced illusion,
you cant’ defy filthy chipped minds and nails.
Let the process of leaking begin.
Watch it once again.
How your body floats, finger evaporates up in the sky.
That glorious sky, now.
Watch it fall again.
Things that make you full.
Rains, flowers, mushrooms
bouncing like peals of laughter of unborn.
hear it… hear it again.
Let things crack in your small aperture.
In front of me, in the forest an array of sky shimmer.
I do not turn around to sniff the leaves,
there is a smooth trespasser on my skin.
So, I let it be.
I let the wind sit on my painted toenails.
As I walk further, rivers quarrel about a spider’s life behind.
I look at it. A life made independently.
It inspires, floral flowers blooming upon my eyelids.
A pure sound of crickets.
Sound that tickles my lips, and blurs my loss.
A stoppage to a mundane life.
In my room, I would lay horizontally
glistening the birds of silk skin, disappearing like smoke.
There was my body, a stone of carcass.
And As i walk into the woods,
The rain kisses my neck nonchalantly.
A silent kiss of a stranger on my lips.
My poem published on Mojave Heart Review!
Link to my published poem here
Another day has gone.
I sit and pray like a maniac,
with a white smile, you can count on.
I prepare breakfast and prepare a story to tell.
I prepare so many wild things often.
Bricks on bricks, and soft wool of tales.
You left like a reptile in a hibernation.
with floors slipping beneath my china body.
i pray and pray. That’s what i know the best.
I once prayed during my abortion,
beating the sweats and my blood.
my blood was thick as a waxed cloud.
Oh, how i wish you stayed!
What is that flows and flows behind my ears?
A life. A full stop. An endless conversation with life.
Over the years I have developed a harpoon of olive skins.
Skins that are cleaved too.
They haunt me in moments of despair.
They haunt me in these bright shiny days.
And here I am sitting, sunbathed, moth running on this fungus swiveled hands.
Eating and flapping my heavy bosom.
It speaks beautiful anatomy to me.
Oh yes, it does create a map on my toes,
a map on my mind.
Here I traverse, sideways like a waterfall. A soft and a quiet one.
I am not in a sad mood today!
Autumn is my favorite season.
It speaks only the truth, the brown fallen truth.
And I swallow it like a sincere patient, popping a pill to be alright.
I was told since beginning to breathe. Outside the loathing empty voice.
Like a romantic bud blossoming under the clear sky.
I knew i had some issue. I was often mad.
People called me anxious.
And life vomited every disgusted feeling, a black hole on my face.
I survived that.
i survived my anxiety.
The hollow arch of turpentine water did amaze me.
Somedays, the summers ring into my ears like a blade.
i had seizures too in the past. The ones that would burn my entire body
I became a quiet monologue, left to flip through times.
And often, I would swim among the pages of words,
words of my rummaging eyes, seeking nothing but love.
nothing but life,
oh, that life.
Iterative steps to defy this melancholy.
I rest this white clapping body onto the walls of poetry now.
it holds me like a lover.
In honor of- world poetry day.
Also, I like to keep my punctations just the way it is. (i=I)
“That stale air you think of
is heaviness surrounding the numb teeth.”
It’s dark, It’s the night.
we slumber with mouths open trying to please.
trying to pick lotus with our heavy lips.
I stare into this earth which holds me like a baby,
and then the flashback of pills and heartaches.
that moment of a swiveled cloud of tears.
It’s done now,
Circling around life needs a solid heart,
a solid tongue to lick,
lick, the translucent powder of fever.