Submissions for Olive skins, my very own mag for surreal artists is open now. Please fill up my mail with your beautiful writings now. Check out here for more info!
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.
I am a sound today,
an inaudible gentle drop of a midsummer dream.
I have a scarred arm,
An ear so small,
obnoxious ways of survival.
I evolve each day, still melting on toes.
Funeral baths peeling my cold skin.
There is abnormality happening on Thursdays,
and a prayer going on inside my head on Sundays.
I know too much on Mondays and
I become a sinner on Saturdays.
Look, I may slip monthly,
slipping almost like a surreal fall
with patches and band-aids sewed to the body.
I fail to be a silver moon
A hollow void that sits on my lap,
nonchalantly bleeding songs of despair.
I am all at once,
an elastic curve of black fragility.
Enter a room full of dark metaphors,
Stir the analogy with the half baked synonyms trying to disturb your mind.
Stir further, this thought process so ablaze.
Wake up to small neutrons, amorphous floating protons,
Unfurl your sins in each room.
Step by step, take a needle and start stitching your open wounds now.
A long stride of pulmonary sleep. Soak it and walk along with the process.
Ask questions to your mind and heart put together. And you are now in a maze.
Overuse the electricity like a tether. Grab and chew the rim of power to grow like a diffused bulb. Follow the paths which never shook you, you shall never be lost now. You have landed now on the concave slippery object of your face. A soft daydream.
A mystic night. A lover’s touch.
You sit and see yourself here, like poetry melting nad sitting in your womb.
Here is home, now.
Here, you always can come back, now.
As you all know, I have started this lit magazine especially curated for abstract and surreal poetry which means a lot to me and so I urge you all to head over to this link and read this amazing poetry from a fellow poet.
Please like, share and follow if you appreciate the work.
I am more than thrilled to announce that Kristiana and I have started this collective together which talks about all your pain, abstract verse, surreal poetries through our collective Olive Skins. We have received a great number of submissions for the first issue based on the theme “loss”. While we are still on for reading submissions, we soon are going to revert to the ones selected.
Until then, do submit your pieces if interested.
Mouth of stars/ flickering hands of aesthetic people/ a blue picture/ a few more aesthetic people/ watching a turquoise dream altogether/ hands covered with kisses and sweet dreams/ a picture so surreal/ A body naked/ Warm/ a corroded necklace/ some more soft kisses/ Prayers/ An air of lullabies caressing toenails/ Journeys ending to nowhere/ starlight sinking like a grapevine/ bubblegum wrappers/ A night so dark/ Nothing fancy/ Orange peels dripping juice/ Skin so soft/soft as forlorn sky/ soft as a womb/ a word so pious/ temple bells/ a poem like this.
Submit your work for my collective Olive Skins here