poetry

a forgotten memory

I am a forgotten memory
with a quiet mouth of a clock( a chain that clogs my neck)
a forgotten yellow tainted page, blank as an ocean.
These people i see, i smile at my own hands,
my own chin, my deep purple intense eye(i know it has an intense shape of a flower)
softly listening all songs
swallowing the delusional veins and freckles of my hands,
i know i am a memory.

forgotten like vintage telephones, crooked voices
90’s soft love collecting silver dust from mouth to mouth,
movement of the breeze, a song of nostalgia.
Sepia. Broken pencils. Vintage poetry.
forgotten like that.

,©Image an Words MVS

poetry

Last Single Existence

I am silvered and stickered
in the blue’s of despair
hunting my scalp
down to the ankle stain,
recidivating, collapsing
For the roads are a summer breeze
tropical, slapping my coarse breast
the humming is repetitive.
like insanity clicking
Artless.

Viscous walks defy my extinction.
The roars and shouts, scrapping my last
single bit of blood
my last single ounce of sleep.
my last single mouth of chalks and blackboard.


©MVS image and words

poetry

Invincible for Once

Infront of me I see a stack of leaves,
dwindling in the joyous cool breeze
The neem tree singing its prayer,
A prayer to soothe my skin.
The petals of pink orchid thrum the formidable chants of love,
I listen and absorb the essence into my cloud-like body.
I hear whistles of raindrops, I hear the whirling of thunders declaring a palpitation.
Throbbing of earth, romancing of rains with the parched earth.
Blooming, blooming, blooming.
Birds perching on my window heart.
I hear my sheeny cracks of bone,
Waving, twirling to declare
An emotion, a feeling, isn’t it the same?
My thighs throb, flowing in the air among the glossy grass.
Can you stop my this flow?
Invincible I will become.

poetry

A Parasite.

Image result for numb art

 

In the alcoholic eyes of mine,

I choked on your divine name

knitting dreams of your dreary arms

I kissed my own grave.

Sordid, papable walks confine me now

Cold hemisphere, stifle my pharynx.

What more I desire from the bleeding roses of lost hope?

I am back in my own dirt now.

Clustered and a parasite of cries.

©My Valiant Soul