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I exist in the voices,
in sounds-

gentle, ricocheting against
the loud bass in the background
and speaking in hushed tones
in corridors where the tiles
are no longer bleached white.

I exist in that TV volume, defined
by the bars that identify the
intensity of my intent,

exist in the grrr grr grinding
of thoughts into an unpalatable
mush, that I got served for
dinner,

I am defined by the water striking
the s(k)in(k) surface, I am that

you no longer pay attention to,

the mundane, I am, the (l)ord-inary.

splash…

I split like a water bubble.

I am not my self(ves).

.

Linking it up with Poets United Midweek Motif.

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planet earth is blue and there’s nothing I can do

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an infidel runs out to the street
to gaze at the five planets which aren’t there,
the whore ties her hair in a bun
to sing to the moon draped behind the clouds,
and the starving mutt barks

creating a collapsing sense of reality,
where sound & vision are marred by
the man who sold the world,

the goblin king wreathing gold coins
enumerating the faces in pain, and
the pain in faces.

how odd is that space of un-belonging,
how dust from stars fall into my eyes
to let me see and let me think, and burn
from ashes to ashes, from skin to skin,

I did relinquish the desire of faith and fate,
I stole the diamonds from his eyes
but they were just buttons with no life,

so in the end, there are only dreams
and that tiny whimsy bit of hope
that has to be quashed, in order
to live.

the whore’s song has died.
the infidel castrated,
the starving has starved,
and I,
I, done with the world.

.
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A Farewell to David Bowie. Linking it up with With Real Toads.

sooner (than later)

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so it was in the cold that I held
those earnest embers of your words,

you were the marble idol
when black and white mingled
to cover the deep trenches of
my heart, your singular smile
was the only thing visible, only
sight on that evening of lights.

a caress on my neck had me
drugged, I was a shore for your
rising tide, I lost myself,

oh I lost myself that night, and
I am cold yet again, those embers
have a faint glow, and I am cold again

in the brilliance of my torn skin,
shivering in shadows of your smile.

I hold the new key, so new that it
is not yet familiar by the touch, of
my fingers, and I walk through
the door of this unknown circumstance,
I want to be home.

yes, I have fallen for you.
February comes soon.

.

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Inspired from February by Dar Williams, written in consideration of writing prompt at With Real Toads.

endings

“okay then, goodbye”:

stories have a tendency to end in the
most

cliched manner, as if they just can’t find some-
thinkg different, perhaps a hello at the end,

a promise of something that begins and goes
on still, but endings are supposed to be sad
all the time, many a time. Perhaps all I need

to do
is
to
never
let
stories
end,

and that’d give to me my choice of an ending
or no ending, a discrepancy of sorts in the end.

.

This is Poem # 9 for my 30 Days, 30 Poems Challenge.

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be careful

Bottom Left: Rossatty

.

what is with all these dew drops,
that stand   a   p   a   r   t    and together
on the pebbles of my path,

it meanders through tunnels
and valleys, overgrowth everywhere,
sprouting seeds of tolerance and bearing.

be careful of your heart because where it sets
becomes your yearning, it’s a debt that won’t go
off, it will surely be yours, like those eyes.

so be a Ferris wheel of life, winds won’t stop you.

.

For Writing Prompt# 132 at MLM Menagerie and Micro Poetry at At Real Toads.

This is Poem # 8 for my 30 Days, 30 Poems Challenge. And now I have started to get restless. Ha!

when attention demands tension

and by the virtue of a dying god,
I laid open some old thoughts,
and assassinated each one

by
one,

the blood spurred on my face, the
fates danced in my dreams, I saw
a night so young and delectable,
that I ejaculated my venom, rubbing
against its folds, my heart stung,

it’s a morning of blossoming
shades, lilac and violet, that I enclose

in my arms,

the winds whip my hair gently, the sun consumes
my face by its silent glare, fuchsia rings adorn my
brown cheek, and I decide that it is time to sleep-

my face upheld by the strings of the sky, mouth open
for hovering bees – there’s a certain kind of violence in it.

.

A fragmented and anxious piece for Day # 7 of my 30 Days, 30 Poems Challenge.

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frozen

snow like petals
line the path to twilight-
a crystal like sky

~

polished-
the mirror reflects again
the moon at night’s door

.

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Written in consideration of Carpe Diem Encore # 15

This is to be counted as Poem # 6 for my 30 Days, 30 Poems Challenge. I am really tired and sleep deprived; I am thus not able to write a verse poem. Though these two haiku took a lot of my energy as well.