Breaths

Between the lilies of your golden mouth

and the lining of your lyrical skin

An Entropy of wet sand resides,

Here, I conjure and breathe

effortlessly, 

like paper planes clicking and unbroken.

®image and words MVS

Methods and Ways


Let me sew your linings of solace
onto my blank, numb fingers
like the gasp of a saviour dreaming
Orange, Red Vibrancy
And I pour you into my wine glass
magenta and red my blood splashes
My mascara, discerning and colliding
and I dance and dance

I think of rainbows and you
where my world floats
like the catharsis of words
And I am Divine and Pious
With Intersperse threads of lust
I fill the hollows of my palm and ankle
I sink into your fulgent walls of ambrosia
The softness I eat and gulp.
This is how I worship you.


®MVS

Into You.

I ate you like the black spot of the moon
splitting the silence
and dissolving the quietness
in the peaches and apples,
I asked your thorn too
with an ebb blooming onto my eyelid
softness cracks, butter lips
Jupiter, Mars dancing
I ate you still, coating myself with wax
I see you behind the slick cotton sheets
where memories slap my tongue
I see you, Yes…I do.

I thrive and wrap and surrender
my soliloquy white silence
in the flash and soils
and I see still myself sinking deep
into your coconuty eyes.
A conjuncture of Aurora,
Repeat, repeat, repeat.


A Wall of Separation

Street Style Through History - Street Style of the 1930s, 1940s, 1950s

Understand this.

That I am afraid of the sunshine that sticks to my forehead often

ringing darkness as its ghost, or the beam of the heavy eyelid

The mannequins of transparent aches I have

Throttle the rim of my soft neck, and my skin sinks

in the reds and blues of waterfall reverse.

My fingers might chip and my dress might slip

Vertically in the horizons of your wide eye

Understand this.

The spots under the cleft of my chin are misty scars if you see

Defeated. Mended. Hands of the clock.

Times of quietness sticks to my mouth always, seeking a surreal cryptic language

Understand this.

I eat this paw of time, drinking the remains of memories

and then spawl, scorch, make a night- shift.

I conjure your breaths like papers of old Poetry onto the

cracks of my lips, my jawline to seize you in this verse

Understand this.

I am paranoid, choking on pills and pills and some more pills

I am an overrated drug of numbness and quietness,

biting the hollows of my palm.

Oh dear, Understand this.

©MVS


 

 

Mother, I see you.

pinterest

With hallucinating fingers of forecasting
I counted your skin and your mouth and I counted you

Your mouth poured water on my soiled heart, almost a surreal thing.
And you buttered my hair, my lips, my hips
with cerulean droplets of your vintage mirror.

I saw you taking vodka and pills while sobbing
near the cliff, near the swollen ebb,
near the Earth
to see him departing you and bisecting you
like old cassettes and used carpets
he played the keys of the mundane monopoly game,
Oh, I saw you circling your eyes
with oceans of thunders and clinging dirt

you ate so ferociously the whole dinner by yourself
like you wanted nothing but this food
and the platter was already full of brass and copper.
Mother, mother, mother
I see a soliloquy of sustenance sinking
right on the joints of your tongue
and extending deep down to your tottering chipped toenail

I have drunk the milk your poured me
rummaging the past bonds, the past sorrows
like the splitting of peas and dicing of peas.

I always wanted to surround you, Mother
And then, the time came I saw you emulsifying
Saturating and desiccating
With a cigar in your mouth, you wanted to bleed prayers
Ransacking these walls of thesis and soft love
you wished to melt and melt and melt

I sat and saw you, still scavenging your unsaid words
your love, your molten body
like Jaipuri studded skirts.
I wanted to weep and splash reality that day
in the spirits of my hallucinating verses.

But, you did not care Mother,
You melted anyway.

©MVS


 

Our Poetry

Pull me closer to your diamond skin
a place that eats all my molested scars,
in the walls of books and poetry
you shall be my muse, the other half.
of my upcoming poetic line, upcoming splinters of ice,
we make love castles,amidst the dirt hanging like spider web,
Precise knots of commitment are the strongest.
Skin:a reverie of splashing memory,
Something that your lips eat daily.
Turn by turn, inch by inch
we mark each other’s soul
creating geometry, defeating geography.
My collarbone is star dust today,
Ebullient scents from your whisky eyes
expand my artless poetry,
like the writings scribbled onto my library walls,
pink, orange, brown.
Infinite, Indelible.

– my valiant soul

P.s_- To my love, my constant.

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