Spitting, patting flower of titanium. lip-locked, verbiage sonogram With shadows of hurricanes dripping blood, moth-like opening. sweet and resolute. Hear the thoughts, dissecting silence like an umbilical cord unfurling, oozing, The tips of bud and bottoms of butt, clinging, parasitic love. parasitic hate both entwined, both subsisting. in your clockwise tongue of spits and spits. image and words-©MVS
Embedded in the swamps of paroxysm
where I see no constant paths or pavements
chipped walls, chipped florals, chipped winter
cascading all through my pale face
in delusions, in fallacies
I cracked the seeds of opulent hypocrisy of yours once
I shall do it again,
and again and again.
Till you split like apples and dice into cubes
with a naked foot of mine
I shall pierce you,
thawing your fingernails and burying
them into a grave
empty and swollen.
And then, you shall die. (claps, claps)
P.S- I know its all-new year thing going on everywhere but for me, a new year and new day is always when I am happy. Pardon my dark write-ups or even better deal with it! Who cares, after all!
Here, I speak the truth to you,
the lies of occupation in appealing people’s sorrow
and the green urban dirt— a ghastly deduction of smiles
makes me a crooked vase of emptiness.
Monday: oh, it pours the spikes in my stomach
and churns the pancreas till the heart bleeds.
Saturday: a monotonous tone of soils parching,
producing fungus and mushrooms
Nothing remains, a wall of concrete harmony.
This tongue here craves the stardust of sunshine if any.
Something between moist eyes and moist thighs goes missing,
something between the linings of bricks and charcoal is vintage epoch.
The aprons, the tables, the cigarettes
the Sundays and the breakfast of savouring
my thunder, clasping the pharynx of my scandalous worth
is my favourite.
©My Valiant Soul
The protrusion of sultry roads
chokes my unborn laughter.
my teeth dropping off the tiniest molecule of red wires
sharp, electric, bizarre.
I doubt your tongue, human!
For chills are deceptive often.
Summons of thunder on my pale lips
now your sturdy words,
collide, oh human!
Your tricks are electric.
Your tricks are deceptive.
©My Valiant Soul
City of parallel lies
with masks, twitches unheard
an intrusion of insects into the skin
the air is eerie.
scratch the masks people,
peel off the under skin
to see blueberries hanging
from your forehead.
In the serene morphic undistilled
inhale the dewy poetry.
The poetry that lies
inside the innocuous flesh.
The star consumes and spreads the beam.
© My Valiant Soul