A Memoir about Prayers and Healing

Things do not attach themselves to our void, till we allow it to occur. Things- broken, upsetting they instill our hearts and soul with remorse and pain. A haunting truth about liberation is when we clench our minds limited only to the point we think we need it, it never occurs. What about the next step?

The next step of releasing our fears and not ingesting the feeling of guilt and sadness always. The process requires abundance of acceptance. Acceptance of our mistakes, acceptance of knowing our worth, our dreams as well acceptance to not expect from others.

Prayers can be addictive. I have watched myself for a month not going to the bed without chanting a hymn or “om mani padme hum”…it’s  strange belief or a meditative medium as if I have someone to hold on, I never trusted humans and somehow I suffer from social anxiety and therefore I know how strong my bond is with miracles and prayers. No, the reason is not limited only to this. While addressing about my insanity and delirious thoughts in the form of poetry in my first full length collection- crimson skins, I cried and managed to write somehow.. I later found out my journey with healing. About something beyond pain…something surreal yet realistic. I dedicate each day ever since to my writing process as a slow, healing journey. A quiet, nurturing interaction to my soul. It’s all about the Self!

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 I wrote my poetry book – Crimson Skins out of pain, love, despair. Hope you like it too. Links can be checked out here- IT’S AVAILABLE AT HALF THE COST ON POTHI.:) I have posted the reviews for my book in past posts, check it out if you are skeptical. I would appreciate it.

Crimson skins – US

Crimson Skins- POTHI

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A purple picture

Stuning! - #planodefundo #Stuning
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.

a hollow night

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” I am terrified by the dark thing that sleeps in me”- Sylvia Plath

Cluttered, torrential nights of stone sinking throat,a huge titanic of this time,
my sheets turning into white ghost,
a ghost of you,
my words that were never said.
You, the lantern of chipped nights,
A mesh of annihilation.
You come and perch on my dreams, like satan a missing subsisting eye or a lip. Time kills me before you make me dark, dark as my old rusty windowsill,
with a dying flaky dream.
this thing inhuman wraps my skin of lemon peels
my skin of words and reverie.
my skin…
my darling skin…
( continuous screams of inexplicable pain, now/)

Co-exists

It sits there
with wallowing lips of seal
parched leaf, rotating.

lives born out of it.
swallowing the sudden deaths,
inumerous threads of bruises.

walls break, people die
like petunia’s deluging sigh
cleaved mouths of love.

wreckage & survival
spilling its flow inside,
duality co-exists.
i splash the black spot,
i smash the black spot.
Madness exists.

©Image and words MVS


Consistent


The perimeter of music delivers
 a song to remember
 like my elongated legs
 with blemishes and scars.

Bend it, inhale it
 it suffices the moment,
 the parts and lies.

Life's beauty is in slithering
 like a river flow
 that takes nothing but delivers
 million muted lessons to live by.
 Memories and laughters.
 Soft bruises, soft kisses.

Pause and reverse,
 A microphonic song,
 humming and screaming
 ceaseless motion
 of blue skies,
 cerulean stagnant hands of rain.
 It utters a rhyme.
 it utters Poetry.

©Image and words- Devika Mathur/ MVS

Circle

That’s life.

Run among the Autumn leaves. Run among your cascading bruises. The skin that is swollen now, the eyes which are full of jaundice, even if fingernails fall. Run.

Beneath the tree, under the valley, rub your scars, screech, shout, rub your scars again till you faint , naked facing the mirror of life.

To die or not to die, we all came to buy the bourbon once. The stale cracking lies you hold, the mask that you spit each day, dark, humid drums.

I carry in my mind, the eyelids yearning to be opened now. The electricity of sugar and salt concoction.

Take a pause. Survive. Ascend, Descend. Burn the walls like floating miseries.

Fall in Love with the fireworks inside your mind. Defeat. Put fog inside your collar bone, powder your dreams. Choose colours again. Red, mauvy red, Magenta.

Splash the cold water, like opening poetry lines, oh now you get me?

Run, Discover. This is life.

To my Virginia

Image result for virginia woolf

“Her heart was made of liquid sunsets”- Virginia Woolf

So, this is how it starts, backwards and forwards
A canopy of fire dwindling in the mercury stars of ocean
Routing the past weeds and merciless eyes

Imbroglio thunders often attacked me, I threw fits and seizure
on these wooden floors on the horizons of your body
and so much vomit, Ah!

But you see the endings do not end here,
My teardrop holds your bones and breaths
uncountable fantasies clinging my necklace
Prolixity of your memories often defeat the pendulum
I carry so much in my heart if precisely stating.

And so this is how it begins in the stardust and galaxies
where I calm my madness and powder my worries
dropping my heavy footsteps into the pool of oceanic torrent
The electric waves do teach me brightness and darkness if you must say
And my heart takes everything you spit on my bedsheet
My heart touches the ebb of mundane sunrises and sunsets
Still working the aftermaths, hurricanes, polemical truths.


P.S- Virginia Woolf’s writings are always resonating and mesmerizing to me. My words are only and only a small tribute to this powerful soul! She shall always be an inspiration.

®MVS


Assimilation

I HAVE LEARNED THAT I STILL HAVE A LOT TO LEARN”- MAYA ANGELOU

Cracking my pieces of delusions, with your fainted memory
like auburn leaves of sun rays,
with autumn diluted in veins of winters,
I wander and travel my electrolyte body,
time and again.

In the wilderness of my pituitary,
tongues of vague currents
erupting from my caged chest
a criss-cross of the eye, a criss-cross of mouth,
inexplicable waves thunder my jaws
and you reside in a big hollow of truth.

I am a summer weed,
waxed and shaved and fainted,
I swell and fell, again with a needle’s spine
to understand the resistance of lies,
My backbone twitches, my moth-shaped eye
I hallucinate, blinded, drugged, erected
and I swivel like a sickle of time.


©MVS #NaPoWriMo-4

Aphorism

MVS
What intrigues my eye the most is the sweetness and copious jelly myths of the world. A truth about death and beauty. Shapes genesis hoodwinked as orange sunsets, leveraging. I form petty diluted circles of observance hanging outwards from my malice thighs. A point of dissatisfaction. Itching of my eyelids emphasize that.I become a murmur retracing my vintage memories and an array of laughter. Is that real?

Pain makes you semi-liquid. Oozy and dropping.You want to lick its hard mahogany slurps and burps, you fail. There is a point of indifference arising in the lines of palms and ankle. The resistance. The stagnation. The repetition. Mollusc scalded and halved to bear fruits and offsprings. Offsprings of delusions and love. And a linear equation is formed like a stack of memories stored in the jar from a lush garden. So, is this real?


© Image and words- MVS

Cravings

I desire the things which will destroy me in the end- Sylvia Plath

Image result for sylvia plath

Give me a cauldron, a soaked cotton firmament

multiplied and divided,

in the sunshine of cigars and the owls of dark

Pulverized ropes of hollow imagination, it flatters me.

I want to put my foot in the skull of my brain

and measure the elasticity, the gravity throbbing.

Your smell locks my lips, susurrous allusion

with your diamond dents and abstraction

Kneading your mouth to my skin

my pores to your arms,

loose like vapours dissolving into the colossal violet sky

So, I crave you and your moist   moist     moist     tongue.

A little does not fulfil my throat,

I want the dirt, and the limericks broke and joined

with the sustenance of deluge inside my veins.

The remains and ashes,

the blue-bells,

the clock between my mind and my doings,

insane movements, I want all.

Slick slurps of hatred and love

clinging my iris and legs.

I want all things bad and eccentric.

©MVS

PS.-Because I am running out of inspiration, I could always find some,  from this amazing evergreen poetess. She is simply astronomical.

My poem on Visual Verse can be read by you all  here.


 

Words

Related image

Today, my writing is divine. With the savage to sink myself in words, I am invincible. Language embellishes me like wrapping petals of roses to the moon. I know my heartbeat today, rapturous, melancholic like almond skin.
I feel the bruises not the scars for scars are permanent ink.
I remember that sad lady lying drunk on the street, I saw myself decaying in her.
I know not today I will be like a dead stone for writing is divine today.
Dragons or mermaids do not alter my dreams. Life shall be Claustrophobic in many ways, where my silver cup of paradise might be scratched.
But I have a tooth of gold to flicker.
I have known the past and the present. I choose wisdom always.
Words created me, for my soul is a rolling stone. I know the pen is my destiny.
Cries, peals of laughter and hunger, I know all.
I have sipped the cup of poison too, so I do not fear, I rise.

©My Valiant Soul


 

Vintage Love

Pinterest

“Perhaps when you will leave, you will take something of mine: chestnuts, roses or a surety of roots or boats that I wanted with you, comrade”— Pablo Neruda

I doubt the incubation of turgescent moment
where my hands might be swollen
and your tongue all opaque,
I do not wish a lush firmament
or kisses of holy verses,
For I crave is the skin and pores
and countless breaths you take
like torrential piquant roses and wine
You rotate into my feverish mollusc body
Like an Equinox, you conquer my susceptible shadow
Walnuts cracking piece by piece,
the susurration sound to be heard
mapping your virile chest and hands
Too many secrets of love to be unveiled tonight
like letters, vintage photographs, Pure breaths.
I crack bit by bit into your wonderous mouth
Detonating into million and million pieces of delicate memory,
And each time, you hear me.

©My Valiant Soul


A place like this

The epitome of peach shaped markings,
Defining the extended fields of valour and hope,
Drooling in my walnut bones,
Mingling in my solitary ebb,
Lies inside a place where my mother
Wakes me up from a cascading nightmare.
To the jubilant staircase of rainbow meadows,
To catch an intrepid molecule of a butterfly
Then to drink a cup of valour,
As I see a place like this
Rupturing, beaming.
Flickering amidst the stars in the sky.

Radiant Dreams

Image result for dreams painting

via Daily Prompt: Symphony

I match the hollows of my empty watered eyes

with the upcoming

flowers,

The dandelion dreams

shall not die

instead will

have coruscating thorns

in the symphony of a sweet puddle

to become the powerful lantern

of all times.