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.
” 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 darling skin…
( continuous screams of inexplicable pain, now/)
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,
i splash the black spot,
i smash the black spot.
©Image and words MVS
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
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.
“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.
“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.
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
I desire the things which will destroy me in the end- 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 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.
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.
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