Tonight, I shall smirk and produce cactus in my bones. Reverberating your conjured beds exhausted me. Tonight I shall not be a bean of pelican feathers, a china crockery. With the burial of your carbon mouth, I burn till the sky thumps. And then you shall explode the way I did.

Your clandestine face is like a green moth today. Pulverizing. Torrential.

The language of lonesome affairs strikes and burns my ginger thigh, moisture resides, phosphorescent sigh.

Scream and watch that burning sky. Swallow the eclipse. Revolve and rotate like wild sharks. A stack of lipids and liquids shall only entice you. You leap and crawl. Your skin is that of marine molluscs, fidgeting, concealing.

Tonight, I refuse to entertain you.

The burning wax is still my favourite companion.

®My Valiant Soul



“Paper has more patience than People”

I have heard enough about the grey letters dancing, leaping
on the white pure sheets,
I have seen her tears also pooling up inch by inch and forming a galaxy
at each side of the page
Turgescent drops of ice circulates, rhymes and drops as she swipes the cotton cheeks
She stifled a numb voice, a queer quietness. Lost in the archaic voices.

Ataxia on her knees, ataxia in her throat
a vague remembrance of ash and wine
she twirls the pages and eats it like a healthy dinner
Insoluble mud often teaches you life beyond death
making you reflect reflections, the screams and the smudged mascara

she speaks now, trembling voice like that of the old-fashioned stethoscope
a heartbeat yellow and fractured
startling. Survival. Unflagging
She resides here in these brown paper of dust and pain.
She resides in your vertebrae, like fungus
she travels quietly in our disgust words,
She is us.



Still Evolving

Sharing my one of the poem that published in Visual Verse

A nameless flower, born in the thistle of cacophony.
My white thighs wrapped in the cellophane of expectations, suffocating and palpitating.
I marked my mother with scars, when I was born, she survived and cursed.
I am a girl, a white penumbra of the dark moon.
Chopping and twirling exists right in my aching stomach
my pale blue eyes, devouring the truth, sustaining the myth.
I am a ball of false mushy hopes.
I evolved each time eating the paw of time
the perforated sky, the unborn lilies of the fields.
The humanity eats my loops of scratched skin,
like the fights of animal, I am lost, swelled up in my dirt
The haywire of unseen puddle of disgust puts my jittering teeth in
total eclipse, a black afternoon of dying autumn.
Here, my fingers poke my sustenance churning the evolution of my vapid firm breasts, for it is still evolving
For the mixture of raisins and cactus still, thump my vagina.
I wake up each morning eating your unhuman thoughts in my breakfast, I see you smiling under the black sheets
And I know, I am a bedazzled drop of that liquid ice
Still hunting, still fighting until I am a beautiful form of
solid atmospheric lush.




Teenagers in the 1950's much more elegant than teenagers now...
Circulation of stars was more familiar during
those sincere days when our bodies felt the lust,
the smitten rose kiss, the dandelion slaps
on our naked, yellow tongues.
Telephones were intriguing, for addiction kills.
Fingernails did not chap, broken things did mend.
Inside the tubes of bars, ladies enjoyed
with a brew of solace and poised wise.
My teeth crack to see the irony today,
humanity dies, numbing the skies.
Sometimes when I walk on moist roads,
The oak and the cactus pigments my impeccable skin,
slapping mud onto my thighs, making me realise a sigh!
For life's revenge is time,
And nothing binds the state of time.

My latest work published on Duane's Poetree.
-My Valiant Soul

When the water is Dark

Kate’s lip was cracked. She ran with all her struggle.
A few petals of autumn leaves fell on her naked back,
torn clothes revealed her scars now,
The heinous brutality was a dark cage
People said it will be alright. So she fought.
She fell in the web of masked society. Hard to inhale
hard to smile, locking horns with the concealed brown pit
Splash of waters did not soothe her skin, now her sagging vapid skin
So she fought again.
She knitted courage from her belly button expanding to her gazing eyes,
The once charmed, innocuous smile
full of dynamite forever.
People still say Kate will be alright.


For I am a Woman.

Tan suave y lleno de arte con pequeños olores esparcidos que captas de pronto durando un segundo. Three Rivers Deep (book series).
image credits-Pinterest

 I am a protrusion of rose,
hiding the black spot of the moon in my valour
that rises white dandelions on your skin.
My finger bones creak my virtues,
giving a red shade to the once grey shadow
for I am a Woman, invincible like mammoth stars,
I seek, I wander through the rim of sidewalks
conjuring in roles only unspeakable of.
I walk, I swim, I conquer, I am a swollen mass of expectations
I carve sunflowers, lavender on my forehead,
a thorn indeed wrapped in the interiors of my lips,
my sun-baked lips,
still the succulent lips
oh! My lips.
And then my heart speaks a language of ripe fruits,
yellow pages, white pages all inside
burning a canopy of emotions
Decaying, nurturing, flourishing.
for I am a woman, invincible like mammoth stars.