poetry

Disappearance

One of the most beautiful photos. So simple, but the mixture of the hand and the light...just gorgeous perfection.

Rubbing my fragile hands over my soiled neck,
I felt a vibration from the crooked radio’s tune
The twirls of flaccid rays and patterns of black and white
always speak the sweet dazzling truth.
My mouth says the violent words as my eyes perch on illusion.
This world makes me sick and sick till my heart spills
collision, evaporation, disappearance.
I am a convex tube of dying lotus,
sinking on the ebb of dark air. I am dark, yet beautiful.
Palpitations of bleeding words, conjure my virgin existence.
I hear your cactus voice, deciphering and churning my own blessings
I am sick today. I am no one today for my poetry even rests today.

©My Valiant Soul


poetry

As we Sink

Wandering the Good... — pictureperfectforyou: .

i have watched you swallowing my winter talks and gripping my crooked breaths
I become an empty air in my body surviving for your arms and tongue
the weeds that grow inside our bellies, something divine occurs
like doves and pigeons, we flap and nurture
my red nail paint chips and get dissolves into your teeth
you ingest me with soaked balls of kisses and softness that of the moon
I see you like a shadow i want to digest and churn into my stomach
i see you as thunders and the Himalayas
perhaps, I can be the icicle of your cheeks sitting onto your lips
screaming my undertones of solace and then
bites, bites, some more bites.

At this point, i am floating like starfish, Corals
at the nape of your neck
where i once tattooed my clandestine tears, now volatilized, faded
and so i eat you like my favourite breakfast
day and night
night and day.


™MVS

poetry

Yellow Segments

yellow, aesthetic, and art image
image courtesy Pinterest

I have detached my cellophane dreams with your cold shiverings

Sustenance to moments invite a vaporizing acceptance

My breaths carve my bones as I count the stars,

Hopes can be delusional, hope can be aimless.

It only moulds the opening of my bosom

where a stack of anti-oxidant hid.

The penumbra of opaque sunrays never lie, it portends a fact.

Under the quietness of my mole, a layer of satisfaction arise

Seepage, Integration, Addition.

My skin kisses my lips, I sit and watch the pervasive love

Inside the language of gods, a clock of soft murmur arise

Trusting the humans once again,

trusting the pillow talks again and again.

poetry

Coltish Home

 

Image result for lust art
image credits- Paul J Nelson

 

My wax finger slithers across your extolling caricature
In the Elan black eyes you carry, sun-baked secrets.
Like the winter chills and pepper on thighs cascading
in the solitaire eyes of the mountain, I see your lips
Your smooth, divine lips uttering the catastrophic formulation
Like obeisance of your footsteps in the haze of sultry moisture.
I see you drinking nectar from my sweet neck,
Giving me a basket of rainbows embellished in my navel.
And, with your lips and my dreams,
there is a heavenly comet, a magic potion,
Sunkissed dreamcatchers, succulent winsome bodies.

©My Valiant Soul