Tag: people

Imaginations

For i see a tree behind a house made of clouds
a slow whisper entrapped beneath the soil
that never moves an inch
a state of wellness only getting harrowed
we live
like a static voice losing the soft cotton-like warmth
each day where the bells pause to chime.
We come across rooms full of stars and nights
and things even harsher
Imaginations of people breaking apart
or true maybe

The slice of pain is where it must have all begun
numb and electric
Everything seems on fire
where it ends
where it begins
no one knows.

Thins behind the valley seem plain
with ordinary roses
ordinary people
ordinary chirpings and shadow.

hallucinations or reality?

Those were the days of love.

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A stich of memory

i am white & floaty like clouds.
thick sheets of molasses.
Old lavender strings hanging on my chest.

i am a convex memory of wax.
flashback of old days speak to me,
like vintage numbers,
vintage photos,
vintage walls & laughters.

i have a thing with people.
i mark and eat them along with the spaces.
completely. Bones. ashes. all in me,
as i create my nausea myself
dripping down my red lips.

i create and dissolve.
_______

Recent Trends

Three Children and Wagon c. 1930s #history WOW the first sweet picture I have seen with Black and White children.

Some people I see these days are like
broken paragraphs of my poetry
with a missing meter and inconsistent gravity
Detonation of disgust pits and addition of volatile
vodka stammers my insipid vision.
Half moon, half-blood, half mouth covered,
like a decomposition of the great Odyssey.
Some people these days are like
Vintage tributes( but unfamiliar, surreptitious).
With a bumblebee of summery sky,
they bite your pure coltish recently built home
Some people these days exists like this
till they tangle your knots into miseries.

-My valiant soul

image courtesy- Pinterest

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.

As You Lay Dying

vintage glamour black and white photography couples | black and white, fashion, mirror, pearls, vintage eyes

How many dark spots do you have,

Lizards and crocodile scream

to see you knitting lips on lips.

Papers mock your hubris hands

Ruffles and hibernation

In the planets of chivalry

in the swamp of lies

I see your lies and eyes,

A corrosion of rock.

I am a piece of molten clock

and

Your dark fingers are bait

like burning of ashes

cold powder.

Burial grounds smirk,

vicious cigars, vicious you

Discomfort intrudes my throat

with swollen ebbs of a horizon

I am a distorted voice

to see your insane games

only

I am more rapturous to

see you dying.

®MVS

 

Cease

self

Between the crooked lines and my deaf poetry,

i hear raspberry bowl of emptiness swinging onto my anklet

the sourness, the bitterness

strike right here in the perimeter of earthly images,

a vague amplifier going berserk

silence, noises, screams, Pause.

I am a stained tea- coaster, resting on your blue table

i crave a coffin or a bed now, for I want to cease

till the season changes and my blood spills ink again.

®MVS

A naked Observation

 

London, 1908.
image courtesy- Pinterest

 

Forbid me from not inviting you to the dinner tonight,

The reservations are kept clean and precise

We shall make Spaghetti Arrabiata and will murmur talks.

Talks about new locality, a lamenting voice of new priests doing exorcism

Surrounding my pesky air, claps and thunder shall be mixed in your wine

A charcoal dust will caress your cheekbones, piquant games of truth and dare

A memoir, a brandishing clamour of naked bodies will dance

Time teaches time about the modals of life

and human bites time again and again.

I scream inch by inch like the wing of sparrow (Hush, hush, hush)

Needles revolve, this golden sundial stands frozen

Some say the truth, others are clowns well decorated in their own pits.

Forbid me from not inviting you to the dinner tonight.

 

-My Valiant Soul