dissipating into the slivers of my being,
I hoist my head for a last look of galaxies,
before I cease to prevail, in these imperious,
instantaneous, ripped realms of reality,
and deflower my skin, into flagrant
deceivers… these seraphs of fantasy,
embracing the abode of my soul,
sanguineous shelters for my mind,
away from dispositions of the world,
unevaluated, I dwell in locus of lies
.
This is tagged as the poem for 20 November for NaBloPoMo.
There was a religious “conference” going on nearby. The loudspeakers were actually making me deaf. After about five hours of public display of the religious sentiments, it came to end and thus finally, I could write something. I have got a headache right now.
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Sorry about your headache. The photograph then is quite appropriate.
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Went I went to Vietnam they have the speakers in the streets – sometimes they got a little more than irritating, I know how you got your headache 😦 Beautiful write though anmol.
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Sounds like you were in a tough spot. The “ripped realms of reality” is a cool phrase.
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the locus of lies…strong descriptor…ha..i bet the spirituals were maddening in their loudness…and for what reason…who was their show for…
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