Sunday and Breakfast

Here, I speak the truth to you,
the lies of occupation in appealing people’s sorrow
and the green urban dirt— a ghastly deduction of smiles
makes me a crooked vase of emptiness.
Monday: oh, it pours the spikes in my stomach
and churns the pancreas till the heart bleeds.
Saturday: a monotonous tone of soils parching,
producing fungus and mushrooms
Nothing remains, a wall of concrete harmony.
This tongue here craves the stardust of sunshine if any.
Something between moist eyes and moist thighs goes missing,
something between the linings of bricks and charcoal is vintage epoch.
The aprons, the tables, the cigarettes
the Sundays and the breakfast of savouring
my thunder, clasping the pharynx of my scandalous worth
is my favourite.

©My Valiant Soul


Scissors and Thorns

image credits- Pinterest

Penumbra, walls of construction, destruction
black coherent cathartic squalid eyes
numb crooked vertebrae floating
in the liquid air, my body becomes a coffin.
Enfeeble basket of black roses resides in my cracking eyes.

I take a pause, and visit the old creaking house,
haunted and mahogany drooling
over my burning piquant skin,
I feel a co-existence between
the supernatural and the living
Dents of loose threads of hope
circulate, biting my skin, biting my tongue,
biting my amorphous vapours of sick solitude.

I want to weep today, scarring my acidic eye
the hypocrisy, the swollen balls of abhorrence scar me.
I am a vexatious taboo.
How is sustenance a need?
Even the sky dies at night.
I evaporate, disintegrate, amalgamate
only to be a broken piece of an elongated lie.

©My Valiant Soul


Together

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This orange leaf splinters further,

reflecting your beautiful naked skin to me.

In the pool of stars, I feel the icicles of chills

Spreading onto your neck, spreading onto your lips.

I count breaths between your lips and my moist temple-like mouth

Engulfing charisma of your liquid veins, I stand still to weave a knot of adoration,

from the stars of your Lilly- thighs to my oblivion body.

©My Valiant Soul


Together

 

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Maria Szollosi

 

This syndrome I carry,
Seraphic, a butterfly in cocoon
churlish eyesight, colliding with your wounds.
I will sew your pain
Believe me, for I am the traveller of scars,
I will kiss your moonlit tears
and the paths it travelled,
I am an archaic smell of vintage champagne.
I shall regenerate always,
I shall not die,
and when I do, I shall with you.

©My Valiant Soul


 

Coltish Home

 

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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



 

Yearnings.

 

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In the memory of your conundrum body, I carve my outline
onto your colossal caricature,
The dreamy eyes, my paradise of lust
I see my thighs dipping in your skin,
biting the tiniest part,
tearing the flesh to discover the hidden mirth
Swaying my dark hair on your sturdy wet neck,
I take the holy waters into my parched mouth,
Insatiable breaths, defining my yearnings.
As the galaxy smiles, the stardust tremors.
My skin expands into the colour of our burning flames.
The throbbing of heartbeats,
instils the dandelions with thunder
With the evolution of us, I discover
a shadow of smiling moon in me, for I see her lining
hidden into my belly-button.
And , the spring is born.

©My Valiant Soul


 

Self-Portals


My skin coloured umbrella texture,
A polaris to inhuman substance
Extending in the North,
Like that shining star.

My red lip, like a stolen piece of a gem.
The duality of mermaid fins,
Stumbling, swimming, breathing.
I see it all.

Who am I?

The eccentric waves of ocean,
Inside my oceanic soul,
Flutters the depth of my eyelid
Narrowing my eyesight, blurry smoke.
And there exists a vast fountain of charcoal visions.
Unknown, insatiable flower petals
Choking on dead soil.

-My Valiant Soul.

Romance

 

 

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image credits- Google

 

Fumes of twilight shout your name
adorned in gracious pastel fields of paddy
Aroma and lanterns of your touch
conjure the magic in this cool breeze
making my inner shades all yours,
My teeth clasping your skin,
like the raindrops romancing with the earth.
Inexplicable, beddable for you.

©My Valiant Soul



Cryptic Space

 

"Behind the Veil," Dimitra Milan's stunning mixed-media painting
image credits- Pinterest

 

“There is a field- I will meet you there”- Rumi

I know language of flowers and dandelions,
the language of thorns and crooked stars
silence resist in the topology of melting grass
like the Colossus,
I am lost in trepidation of white penumbra
surrounding my teeth and distance between teeth
All silent.
hush…hush…my body is aerial
hush…hush…my grey segment of the index finger is silent.
In the cacophony of lost and found
I am a soliloquy speech
under your slick peels of love, hate.
I have a temple inside my chin,
unwrinkled,
for I am a pendulum of sonorous
silence.

©My Valiant Soul


 

My Poetry is Dark

 

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image credits- Pinterest

 

Tonight, I shall rip my mind
bifurcating like thin veins
for I see hot wax resting
on my body,
for I am lips and lips of shooting fire
tonight, I shall cry
and vomit my parched pain
like shattered poppies
lying in the coffin
for dark is my home
dark is my poetry
the inside of poetry is me,
and I am dark as Satan’s eye.

©My Valiant Soul


Drop dead beauty.

My flaky fingers hold my hope like the sacrosanct dusk, the better is my mind with the fall leaves, the turpid pick of the smoke, pulling strings impeccably, wretched you say?oh, I am just a maniac wandering on the ebb of tyranny, turbulence and war see the pattern?It’s beautiful though dark.

The puzzles cut my thumb,scars all over the white skin,
nourishing I call it
Jasmine, fresh flowers
the brutality spreads now in my eccentric jovial mind
straight in the pond of sinking lips
the pond of dropping diamonds.



Chants of you

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The promise of high tide, the valour of blooming minds
in the blanket of stardust kiss
in the essence of my apron,
I carry thy words in my uptight hair bun
breezing the hopes, the yearning tongue in the air
Like I see a reflection in the consonance of my eyes
The paintings carved in my belly-button
like a deep slumber of a half-slept moon
establishing the prodigious words of skin,
the language of my pink tongue.
I see you as my dream-catcher sprinkling feathers on my soft breasts.
on repetition, you collide with my heart
An Orphic diamond kiss on my eyes.
The daydream is ephemeral for you shall rock
me in the cradle of lavender fields.
As my hair strands say phosphenes chants of you.



 

Loop Of Hope.

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The world is a scorching lie, it gallops the light

swallowing the other half of a stale melon

climbing the stairs in a descending order

rubbing alcohol to one’s eye

the flaccid numb lugubrious eye

throwing dust in the basket of an old lady

And then cherishing the gaze of a falling star

crossing hair strands to form an impeccable knot,

I see, hardened rock in my navel, smothered like a beggar’s face.

The cryptic resonance, the elliptical sunrise

An egg-shaped lie.

Then, I see the light, white light adorning the dark background

forming patterns, jigsaw puzzles

Imbrication of susurrous paths, my eyelids wide open only

to scratch the remains of dirt

to pick up the lost child

and dancing towards the little loop of hope.



 

The sweet innocent Palm.

The shambolic evening sings music

With petals of petunia in my thigh

I mock at the hypocrite crowd

The masked souls, enough of charcoal tonight

I shall burst my bubbles of insanity you say, for I am home to wild hills

Where the temple bell sing jingles to my arteries

Sinking in my color, the eccentric red blood

Coinciding with my footsteps, filling the craters of my lipstick

Filling the lacuna of my hairline

Giving it an atom of granite

Splendid marks will arise from my delight soul kissing even your dark loopholes

Will you do the same? Oh shame!

I have the meraki of dark silence comforted as butter in my palm

My sweet innocent innocuous palm.