Burning Lamps

 

image credits- Pinterest

 

Tonight, I have smoked my favourite cigarettes
with curtains drifted apart, I sit here with a glass of my taste
And as this lamp burn, I burn like the melting wax
And I begin to bleed, I bleed on my paper with hot wax on my cold skin
Tonight, the moon is drunk too, the stars are churning my pain
they see me collapsing, they see me drowning
My pen sees it too. It scribbles my inner verses like wounds
scorching like the Thar dessert
My fingers still write, my mouth spits vexatious taste
A taste of my forlorn tale.
I burn my pen, I burn my pen
I slit the paper, then fold it again
only to make a paper again,
And with this clandestine night, I have my companion.
So I burn along with this burning lamp.

©My Valiant Soul



 

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Fragrant words

the ink drop bleeds from my wound of the past

how beautifully, it drops throwing my mask in the sheet

like the vapours colliding the sky

the exuberant eye-catching landscape

 drip , drip it falls on the paper, from my breath to my leg

from my mind to the tree that made this paper

I give my fragrance, wrapped in a fur to my words.

I give breath to my scratched skin



Insatiable hunger

Inside the rim of a bottle
Or outside the grilled window
You poke and churn the mystical hoax
Digesting into the pool of madness
A reverie. A fiction. A ballistic throttle.
A healing iris. A gargantuan of flowing words. A paroxysm.
Peel the skin, scratch the inside of an apple
Search the word, burn it and inhale in
your surreal peace, preen the mirth
And swallow the liquidity, join your body
With its formation, a constellation of stars
Then, you shall know insatiable hunger.

Loop Of Hope.

Image result for deep paintings

 

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.