The sound of water almost uncanny, A plastic bag bloats and floats like a memory of thoughts piled and halved beneath, my sagging skin of skins. The room is a liquid gel with my thoughts arrested, sleek and colourful. Water Ripples my thoughts bifurcate further With tunes of melancholy and cascading mystical languages. It's supernatural. To observe the stagnant darkness with my crisp white eyes A twig eating another twig. I sit and scream in the slivers of time piercing through this vacuum body, I hear rumbling of sky detonating my body vapours I nourish the thoughts like a cotton swab softly, piling and weeding. It's almost ethereal. ®MVS
Observe and stagnate the cuts on my eyelid
or the shaking body
Pretend that love-making, a part of the moon
In the windowsill, in the corners of the ebb
Pour your heaviness on my bosom at rest
where the hummingbird knit its nest
Slice and colour your hands
Honey-suckle your moist tongue,
clocks kissing clocks
Mysterious church bells, hush.
Observe and stagnate my white blood
whisper your spring,
thunderstorms into my belly,
carve it into a sweet meadow,
something like soft and crisp,
Hanging bulbs, lotus, potion, lotion.
clean and holy.
Blend your colour, smell
and scratch my bones.
Observe and Rest now.
Darling, my lips measure your spaces and wounds
with the thumb, I knit seismic waves on your back
Paradises stitching, lands coinciding inside
Like a wildflower, I bloom here.
Soils: A bark of memories, red and black.
I travel beneath the surfaces and measure
the cleaving knots, dome-shaped illusions.
Light strikes the stardust and I am a Mirror again
Foretelling your miseries
Holding the icicles of stories on my palms,
I have a newborn skin tonight,
with things to clean
with love as sweet medicine
with White curtains
Sun-kissed air, I am a falling bridge
Having a heart as your canvas.
Flickering. Motionless. oh, Darling.
The envelope's blue fold like a catharsis of us entrapped like a canopy, or a memory. The rusty smell of Vodka The lying knocks, Hush, this moment a fragment of the moon. I sink into your lips and memorize your words— Propitiating, proliferating your eyes resemble best with my heart. Maundering tiny tales. ©MVS
https://visualverse.org/submissions/beneath-the-shell/ Link to my latest work.
I must say that this time the picture demanded something more raw and constructive. It took me some time to write this one but glad I am to see my verse in Visual Verse and also the other amazing writings. Do check it out.
Something is missing in the pit of my stomach. I feel the charcoal staircase rupturing, then filling in the cracks of the blank moon. Devastation. Delusion. I see my blue arms extended to the poles of molestation, a sudden resolution of black and white vintage movies. My kitchen sink evaporates somewhere. Devastation.
The monotony of this body screams till my black walls fall, a sunken truth in this concoction of empty bowls and folded curtain stretches. Elasticity. The hands are empty, crooked, decayed.
Oh yes, there is an eclipse appearing on my black braids, swinging swiftly like my lips did once to lick that butter kiss. Appearances and traits are cellophane clinging to my white forehead. The lights appear bound, seized. Stagnate.
I pray and pray to wither the molten frames and fragments. Catharsis. Purification.
The cheek tint once filled the blue sky, the blue water, with sheets of pure cotton. Fidelity loops sinking onto the carvings of my feet. Parachuting in the snow. That was then.
For now, I see the mockery of time sitting onto my sharp laps, like a reservoir or a womb, gazing as I decay and fall and shatter and shatter into ashes.
These lips entice your arms like an inebriated night
Meteors shaking, beneath the liquid earth
Inch by inch I am a white cloth,
coveting, hiding under the layers of painted gush
An arrow of light-bulbs, crisp and soft
With a piquant throbbing bowl of salt,
the algae smooth and honey dripping,
chuckles held in the moisture of these fists
and my breasts lost, sounding like pepper.
You whisper my name again in the numb air
And I cast a spell on your desiccated tongue.
P.S To my love
I am a shallow bone of desires
burning in my own rivalry among galaxies.
Vinegar-faced my legs drool on my mouth,
Everything is opposite here.
When the earth rains and the sky listens,
the precise water-droplets of mercury,
churns my anxiety.
Where my war is my peace.
the hallucinations are my paradise,
poking my raisin breasts,
Osmosis of mind, osmosis of soul.
For everything is sustenance.
©My Valiant Soul
Aberrant words on typewriter,
Untamed lyrics floating on my coaxed eyes
Longitudinal waves coincide here, an apparatus of dust
Shaken dreams, like a mirage of ghost
Bisect and dilute your reality into my wine.
spill your black cuts onto my yearning lips
Screech the thunders underneath,
shout and scream, kiss the scream
Words often pinch naked souls.
salt and pepper, tobacco and vapour
Twinings of butter pokes the stratospheric coherence,
Something appears blue, something still a clue.
Beneath the sound of every clap exists a hand
few are coloured while the others are lost,
Turquoise water, hazel Earth
preach me the alien tales of your body,
make me rain
make me rhyme
make me discovered.
©My Valiant Soul
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