Memories

image- self

The heights often scare me
collapsing: with celestial bodies
galvanizing, molesting only my skin
crooked tree trunks, molten rocks,
reside in the outer rim of my stomach
The rituals die here each day, epileptic seizures,
the concrete blood vessels begin to spit,
spit and strive,
my narrow palm opening begins to feel,
spawling and missing.
At this point, I am a soaked kidney bean of hope.
The heights still succumb me.
I remember how I drew paintings of that daisy from my lawn
I remember a lot now for memories rest like an atlas inside me.
And memories also teach the momentum,
the possibilities of reading a pale tanned leaf.
Like a beaming flicker, a corrosive Sestina.

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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.

Whispers

Whispers: A tale of my forlorn soul to my fingernails
A point of truth occurs on my sordid laps,
I had enough of alcohol, enough of pills now
Fatigue, disappointment, Dropping ink,
Like a spot of timid bee,
my back scratches the pain of black paint,
spawling I am dwelling outside the cape of unknown and the known
Travelling graves and the faded stars
Beneath duality, a layer of another transparent air exists
Cubes of salt and granules of sugar
Sip, slap, gulp.
Hush, my thoughts are evolving back and forth
oh, forth and back(tapping the drums,
iteration)
The breakfast I prepared stinks tonight,
I will eat the dinner in the morning.
The circumference of my naval is lit yet again,
There are stories piling inside, Stacking of memories,
the throbbing of outnumbered voids.
Silence, noise, silence.

-My valiant Soul

Recurrence

Excrusius

 

A death star dissects my white bare skin

And lanterns of judgments evolve like the zombies of oblivious sand

The peppermint of the next hour circulate in my iris,

Unconsolidated reverie of prayers,

asking the same coherent word.

Promises, a fallen star, destruction

all are in symmetry if one leaves other stays

Inch by inch I grow old, I see old music swaying on my freckled palms

Day by day, something occurs.

Numbness, lust, numbness. A prostitute cries and seduce.

I revolve around your milky lie, willing and wishing.

Thistles and apple grow across my ceilings, and the moment is a serenity.

I count my blood day and night, counting back and forth

to detect a sacrosanct lie, to detect a dead emotion

Illusions, Temple-bells, deaths, births, Bible verse,

I savour the ink and spray a molecule of each on my strawberry neck,

flavours and index of fortune float in the melancholic ebb.

The winter winds throw tantrums and my ex-lovers burn in disgust,

burning half lit cigarettes onto my fallen dying lips, making my body into ash.

Chopping and chopping the undone mistakes,

Probing into fathoms of undissolved wax of recurring spindle collision.

©My Valiant Soul


 

 

 

 

 

 

Observe

A desperate need to go far away

Did you hear the storms and see the opaque thunders?
The time when a body is a box of twitches and imperfections
like pervasive corrosion of diamonds,
too deep and too broad to demarcate a periphery.
A thunderbolt is riveting inside my earlobe.
A thin film of vintage cassettes play the sorrows,
trembling in the momentum of hurricane body.
Ransacking inner soul to find a twitch, a glitch.
A pack of stars drowned in the blue hemisphere
Music: an extension of crooked smiles,
Swaying of broken memories and false hopes
Is that you hear too?


©My Valiant Soul

Things I crave

 

 

Serge Ivanoff
image credits- Pinterest

 

I sit beneath this concave moonlit and put my ink on my naked body tonight.
I count the loses and the victories I have had, the outnumbered lips of kisses and the bottles of venom. I draw a map to the moon, I draw stars to my breasts.
I crave the branches of this grapevine romancing with the blueberries.
I crave my frosty lips sucking the zeal out of the chilled beer.

This place, this soft breeze benedicts the wisdom. It teaches about multiplication and deduction. A topology of human indeed is dust. The slick fingers often do not regenerate and the countless stars are only to make your skin sullen and eyes full of baked memories. Winters are the unsaid words from your beautiful carbon mouth. Thousands of Aurora skin glitter around your geometrical waist.

I crave the poetry of your eyes. I crave the potion, religion, purity from your skin. I crave words. I crave flowers dancing on a hillside.
I crave horrendous veracity from your writings.

The world shall seem mystical, where the peacocks might sing the 80’s song. Hilarious gloomy nights often teach you the truth of your life. “Nothing is forever”

I crave the smell of daffodils. I crave the sultry nights of desiccated romance from my veins and the continuous burning smell of my cigars.
I crave wisdom, I crave wilderness.

©My Valiant Soul


 

Catharsis

Image result for pain art

I have selfish bruises on my white index finger,

Quisling pack of cigarettes yet my favourite lover,

I have pain carved around my parched mouth,

Thorns and roses bloom in my inner thigh

I have seen death with open eye

An extension of chewed electrons of despair

assiduous diamond of shaved flower,

This moment is death, this moment is an Odious ball of catharsis.

©My Valiant Soul

 

Skins Of Skins

 

Image result for lust art
image credits- Gottfried Berlin

 

Latitude of your strawberry eye in congruence with my winter skin
where a pool of weeds evaporate sinking into the outlandish touch,
A loop of anomalous cogent thread arise in the windowpane of your heart,
I see the Earth, the moon and my teeth cracking your Universe,
For I reside in your skins of skins.
Quixotic eyes that spill the poetic halcyon of star-dust,
like the friction of two naked bodies romancing on the naked moon,
I see you evolving, a robust wild bittersweet flower,
I see your palpable heart, and my lips breathing Skins of Skins.

©My Valiant Soul


 

Invincible for Once

Infront of me I see a stack of leaves,
dwindling in the joyous cool breeze
The neem tree singing its prayer,
A prayer to soothe my skin.
The petals of pink orchid thrum the formidable chants of love,
I listen and absorb the essence into my cloud-like body.
I hear whistles of raindrops, I hear the whirling of thunders declaring a palpitation.
Throbbing of earth, romancing of rains with the parched earth.
Blooming, blooming, blooming.
Birds perching on my window heart.
I hear my sheeny cracks of bone,
Waving, twirling to declare
An emotion, a feeling, isn’t it the same?
My thighs throb, flowing in the air among the glossy grass.
Can you stop my this flow?
Invincible I will become.

Illusion

what a cold star i would make. — 	seven word poem // r.i.d (via inkskinned)

In the hush moments of orange silence
A war between scissors and wet lips occur
where this smoke burns my tongue and vapours of half abstraction arise
A deluge of storms and black skins float, black is favourite.
Between lights and array of point blank, something goes missing
Between my white thigh and quarantine of delusions, my toothaches
A series of corpse surround my waistline, delphic view of sorrows drip
smoke burns the truth, I spill the scars like a needle piercing my susceptible skins,
A burning wall of benumbing silence churns inside my mouth.
Vexation, annihilation, perception.
And the rest is all illusion.


©My Valiant Soul