the body is a loose powder longing through the rooms, vacant mountains of chills. bare chest- a throbbing slitting moan. the moon kisses and watches over linguistics of a body. decoding cacophony of amorphous substance. unwrapping a flower- the body is dream, you must say. it slips and sticks to the wall- a whorl of pink tongue. I sit and produce words during the daytime as I watch over my window for a twig to be stuck to my throat- instead I have maroon dreams and floral nights - sore limbs now, sore words- I shift to a different paradigm, I shift to lotus from rose. The arrangement of bones has a purpose now.
no space to love
the poppies won't die tonight I sense the drama through the bleeding faces again the parched vase of you and me the horizon of us- a hallowing question to that equation the fields seem opaque, dreary, with white sunflowers I run and burn to sniff your presence to sniff the existence the love equation to the sky and to things beyond my feet seem to be the carrier of our love poems, enthralled and quiet almost like a woman lost in translation Chips in frost. cold barren as if a tree unfolded a leaf so huge the love rises and sinks and stinks, it breaks and fills the spaces with things so small almost like a hurricane, moths fluttering, there is no place left to make love- not between such damp sheets, at least.
Season of moist talks
with our bodies colliding
this night sings a song of petunia,
a soft spring blooming behind our feet.
A velvet yawn of a quiet afternoon.
The night is a tiny flower
thumping against the sun-kissed breaths
a hum of summer,
a hum of winter.
The mouth dipped in the greasy elbows,
a pathway to the flowering petals.
Silver droplets of water,
the body shrinks like a caterpillar now,
sparkles of the rain,
Too many screams now,
too many abstract bodily postures.
This night delivers a tangled knot of whispers of leaves,
like salt, the whispers rubbing our elbows, quietly.
A season of moist talks.
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branches/ twigs entangled
between the phosphorous skin of ours.
Circles of slow breaths
deeper of magenta blush
The months become cold.
fever rushing through veins
& chills of hypnosis
against the walls,
on the kitchen slab
we spread our colours
while the black night absorbs our love
through the static throat
then, then, then,
here on your pencil neck
only to watch the mornings again
constant motion, blurring the hands in the sun.
And just like that
between the chorus of the bruised sky,
I slip my set of auburn love.
Sediments of galaxies and rivers
entwined between my outgrown fingers.
Seduction is a way of swimming across your mind, half awake.
These tall trees
perform tensions, fiction,
and a layer of loneliness shifts to the sea of the blank river,
I slide my head against your chest,
the ivory garland of future seasons,
the whistling of galaxies
Bluebells swinging in the thunder of our sheets.
My body shuddering like a torn cloth
arms howling in the wild air.
We lick each other,
a chant for dripping lust
and here I become full and warm.
It is past April
empty corridors of dreams
and I swell upon the memory of
READ MORE OF MY WORK-
My work on Spillwords was published here.
A love song
Let's roll our tobacco tongues together, a song so pure, the poetry of cosmos. I have a word stuck on my eyelid to love to walk on the lines of your mind. A world created of seismic waves. And this bedsheet witnessing our lovemaking, I have a love song hidden under my blouse, intricate as my palms, detailed full womb of springs. A song, parallel of being A single light. And we suck this night out of the paper straw, this mulberry night of waves and potions. We suck the air making the atmosphere thin and fragile. This galaxy is now plucked from the hands of our infinite words. check out my poetry published on Vita Brevis.
The Way I Do It.
My Phospherent body of raisin skin moans and swells like a process of Spirituality with fingers clinging your mouth, your scars, your lips, your teeth and your heart of surrealistic reverie. I become a thunderbolt, in the opulent windows of dreams and smiles wearing your white shirt, I swing. I swing like an autumn leaf, cascading down your throat, that black spot on your chest You thump and palpitate my arms. Spring is born between our naked lips. The temperature of cold walls crack in the slices of Orion blue. A stardust drinks the entire Constellation Life trembles and illusions occur. I breathe you somewhere between the spaces of my index finger and my thumb now. I wear your sins on my mercury tongue levitating branches and seeds of satisfaction, darling.
Cups, stains& cigars
I can fill your china cups with vintage memory of us. Where, i see you sipping my lips through the window sill, like a drunk sky & the tipsy moon. In the hitched- run of mundane lives, i drink your cheeks and mole, your legs & fingers like a mulberry pancake, frost often frozen. I like it that way.
i chew your scars with razor- electric nights of thor and acids. I do it anyway.
With a heart of a sun, i flip into your arms, cascading moments of dreams & dreams. Our bodies going wild fire, scratching depths to know the inner depths. The complete forest is lit.We run like mad currents, diffusing slivers of unborn kisses and future rain. We make love like the Himalayas, dwindling with the Pines or something more surreal. Something soft & crisp,the winds, the freedom . All knitted in my precious womb, my
place of togetherness. My thighs dance, magnets sucking my skin to cling me more. It speaks to me about your vintage cups, stain and cigars.
oh, i must be drunk now to sniff your vintage white shirt.
Dreams and talks
I could smell your wine, your amniotic sheets of pure stars and silicon lullaby, regenerating my outgrown toes and stale stairs. this head wrap is a lie, if your nights do not talk to mine. You become my pool of waters and waters that kills my dead skin, on repeats. You wander, like a dream soft and tiny in my 4 A.M talks, the moment of collision I see your swapping legs and arms kisses and poetry tears and scars, A mulberry sheet of dreams. I could smell you once again in the words of pillow marks, in the arch of my windowsill. Knitting and defying this entire life, you do it in a pattern. You do it always.
image credits- Google
Fill the cacophonous rhythm of my mirrored-eye
with the cosmos and nightlight
entwined with grapevine of smiles,
A complexion of you, a shadow.
The craters enjoy the stratospheric
reds, greens, million of boomings.
I worship, with visual feathers,
burgeon smells, intoxication.
The deep smell of my pores
pronounce your name,
multiplying in the furtive eminence.
Then, the thunders dance
smearing lipstick of love,
coughing the dirt of abstruse corners
conquering the walls of illusion.
©My Valiant Soul
Darling, my lips measure your spaces and wounds
with the thumb, I knit seismic waves on your back
Paradises stitching, lands coinciding inside
Like a wildflower, I bloom here.
Soils: A bark of memories, red and black.
I travel beneath the surfaces and measure
the cleaving knots, dome-shaped illusions.
Light strikes the stardust and I am a Mirror again
Foretelling your miseries
Holding the icicles of stories on my palms,
I have a newborn skin tonight,
with things to clean
with love as sweet medicine
with White curtains
Sun-kissed air, I am a falling bridge
Having a heart as your canvas.
Flickering. Motionless. oh, Darling.
The envelope's blue fold
like a catharsis of us
entrapped like a canopy,
or a memory.
The rusty smell of Vodka
The lying knocks,
Hush, this moment
a fragment of the moon.
I sink into your lips
and memorize your words—
your eyes resemble best with
my heart. Maundering tiny tales.
These lips entice your arms like an inebriated night
Meteors shaking, beneath the liquid earth
Inch by inch I am a white cloth,
coveting, hiding under the layers of painted gush
An arrow of light-bulbs, crisp and soft
With a piquant throbbing bowl of salt,
the algae smooth and honey dripping,
chuckles held in the moisture of these fists
and my breasts lost, sounding like pepper.
You whisper my name again in the numb air
And I cast a spell on your desiccated tongue.
P.S To my love
As I need You
Your collarbone clicks stars poultice on my lips, Beneath your tongue, I sit and sing with wavelengths sticking my iris, my newly born legs, bosom divine weeds grow in this prismatic air, between my fingers and your coiled words. Temperatures romance and seductions occur. In the warmth and futility, hallucinations weave your face on my pillow I lick it and suck it. Colours vibrant and molten I lick it and suck it, your face is my religion. ©MVS
Methods and Ways
Let me sew your linings of solace
onto my blank, numb fingers
like the gasp of a saviour dreaming
Orange, Red Vibrancy
And I pour you into my wine glass
magenta and red my blood splashes
My mascara, discerning and colliding
and I dance and dance
I think of rainbows and you
where my world floats
like the catharsis of words
And I am Divine and Pious
With Intersperse threads of lust
I fill the hollows of my palm and ankle
I sink into your fulgent walls of ambrosia
The softness I eat and gulp.
This is how I worship you.
“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
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