no reasons

cold hands meet me like temples,
adjoining bodies of splash.
a mother, a sister,
a verb, a noun,

it all begins with me,
a feverish touch of mine,
endless spots of joy and birth.
a door often conjures murmurs.

continuous, ephemeral drops of dreams,
hanging like autumn leaves,
a transitory position slips beneath me.
i stay quiet as a hawk,

pure as hot wax.
A body rocks its arms in blue stench,
and i bask in.
for there are things growing, a weed
for no reason.


hope you are doing great.
P.s My recent poetry got published here.

Link to my poem in this amazing anthology
can be checked out on amazon.

 

 

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I float like a spot

i see you spreading like blob of colors
sunset inside your mouth,
a hundred nights of sickness grows.
somewhere, arms growing like a living room.
mother, your chin spewed chemicals,
on the night I was born.
1:00 am. a night that swallowed both of us.
You carried varicose time on your sickening waist,
like time made you of clay.

and you heard my voice of lace mucus.
screams growing like fingernails.
you said i must grow, where ever planted.
mosaic pieces stuck to my pharynx.
big- boned, thin legged,
i am 26 today mother, i still bleed,
the way you did last night.
am i you? or life is ingested like you
into my system.

i try shutting my eyes,
inhaling,
inhaling
inhaling.
a thing you detached from your wrist.
_______________________________

As I Pray

Vintage photo

Resolute flames of candle burn on my windowsill

catching your white still fierce memory laughing in the atmosphere,

Tonight, I rebuke the ashes and the time of Thar

to halt, a clock eating another clock somewhere

If I slit tomatoes with you, you shall give me memories and formations.

For you create footsteps and geometry,

Carrying your dainty artistic eyes in the paintings of my body

I replicate you, I replicate your duties, Mother

And I learn the process of Catharsis from your bellybutton

I sew your words to my hairdo, swaying

singing your touch around,

And I pray and pray

like rainbows touching a slice of paradise.

For, I shall always be You.


P.S – To my everything, my Mother.


©MVS

Mother, I see you.

pinterest

With hallucinating fingers of forecasting
I counted your skin and your mouth and I counted you

Your mouth poured water on my soiled heart, almost a surreal thing.
And you buttered my hair, my lips, my hips
with cerulean droplets of your vintage mirror.

I saw you taking vodka and pills while sobbing
near the cliff, near the swollen ebb,
near the Earth
to see him departing you and bisecting you
like old cassettes and used carpets
he played the keys of the mundane monopoly game,
Oh, I saw you circling your eyes
with oceans of thunders and clinging dirt

you ate so ferociously the whole dinner by yourself
like you wanted nothing but this food
and the platter was already full of brass and copper.
Mother, mother, mother
I see a soliloquy of sustenance sinking
right on the joints of your tongue
and extending deep down to your tottering chipped toenail

I have drunk the milk your poured me
rummaging the past bonds, the past sorrows
like the splitting of peas and dicing of peas.

I always wanted to surround you, Mother
And then, the time came I saw you emulsifying
Saturating and desiccating
With a cigar in your mouth, you wanted to bleed prayers
Ransacking these walls of thesis and soft love
you wished to melt and melt and melt

I sat and saw you, still scavenging your unsaid words
your love, your molten body
like Jaipuri studded skirts.
I wanted to weep and splash reality that day
in the spirits of my hallucinating verses.

But, you did not care Mother,
You melted anyway.

©MVS


 

The-wisdom- is- her

Related image

Mother: You are a hyperbole of the moon and the star, a hubris of soliloquy.

Like floating wax, you extend your skin to my mouth, forming chains of bewilderment

chains of congruence     chains of mammoth frills of hope.

You lie in the darkest of hours with a sparkle of holy water on your chin, the pink chin,

the orange chin, the grey chin where all the clandestine secrets are packed between

your teeth and the parched lips, you give blossom to my hair extending to my curves

the scarlet, metamorphosis pattern of face

Opulent serenity lies in your blood, I see my reflection

Time, death or a crooked  tree, you put embroidery incumbent to survive the veracity,

harsh or simple.

Objects around you become opaque, hollows of orange skies

squares of white ice, the eye of Satan

I absorb all the conjectures knitted in the black of  your eyes

to the stars in your magical touch

the fidelity to produce a seed: a seed I shall carry

a seed I may fail

your liquid, pale truth of surviving I inhale in the morbid tales of summer

only to form the web of ink and paper burning inside your motionless,

sturdy, an amalgamation of Supreme Ant  intoxicating, all pouring inside

basket of void, dulcet, a white star.



 

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.