inside that bowl, I see the whole world

Between Heaven and Hell, 1989 by Jacek Yerka 

what powders I will find in the jars
the now dry petals are still so freshly scented
in my slumber I am lost to the world
stone is cold but my place is warm
that clutter calls out for order
no words are written on the walls
yet the spoons and ladles read the pit
give me a staff I will break the locks of the drawers
the moon may play a truant after dawn
I will then run after sunshine
seasoned flavors will never fail
it is never curtains for a cat

"alert in the walls, the couple watches 
while I ruminate my dominance"

parallel universe

Not to be Reproduced, 1937, René Magritte

yesterday disguised as you
receded across nothingness
that hidden wound stirred in mind
like abrasive sand in jar of time
forgotten moments
I bury those under a tree

no reflection can compare with this
energy particles collect within the mirror
you must hurry to follow it
before it recedes and congeals in a heap

"that book you see
I had lost it aeon ago
only to find on the other side of a mirror"

edging fires

Faun, Horse, and Bird, 1936
Pablo Picasso 

of all the places
I find you here
master of clandestine trysts
words you never wrote on the walls
why I find those in that street?
faint sounds of a train in the background
create a surreal atmosphere
I march towards the edge
do I see a change in your stance?
no one can share that tiny stretch
it's out there somewhere

"faces in the macabre will not allow me to die
I am mingling with the vision
just let me be'

Boat that light

Meal Beach, Burra Isles, Shetland by Robin Gosnall 

a window in that water
is it a dream written in part?
a can of paint sprayed away the blues
my body is an outsider in that cold beach
I play a part 
such an intimate feeling
fearsome instincts are here to stay
what use is sprees of adventure?

"no one reserves the right to mock-
to cross that line, 
bury yourself in sand first"

clinging to me

photo by TheFoxAndTheRaven 

I wish I was writing on sand
my blue dress clings to my body
I want wings to fly away
but the dust holds me to blessed coolness
you unbalanced my moorings 
that instant was lost in a moment
I was taken for a ride
but no more gasps
the wind may yet slap against me
snare of my cascading hair will beckon 
I will again look out for unlimited eternity

"who deserves what, can anyone predict?"

blurred into nothingness

Venus de Milo with Drawers, 1936, Salvador Dali

a sublime moment of truth

tears into the limits

pieces of patience

tests the heroic prophets

loneliness is stealing into the heart

dry eyes find themselves gazing into space

myriads of everything are hidden in the drawers

yet the monarch stands tall

"broken discipline takes away the winds

monday will bring it into order

only to make it slowly disintegrate until further orders"

fill it all in a bottle

"I will court you"
he never ever said that
but I had heard
he gifted me a coral beaded on a thread
I would have preferred a plume
such a rare thing to give
why can't he pour his feelings from a bottle?
a dry bathe
Isn't that a paradox?
why am I thinking randomly
what incident has made me so
I want all in my own terms
my heart open to him
I make a ball of my fist
and come back to silence

power of denial cannot be ignored
not when it takes us over completely

facts and figures

such a rock
a burden really one has to carry
no one to fuss.
miserable holds no meaning
sweet charisma prove nothing
a straight road twisted with enough interest
a wish
all within the mind
don't make a bust of me
I don't want it
never did.
prove what to you again-
in the jumbled figures, 
I cannot find

If you could not give it to me then
I don't want it now
hope someday you go figure the whats and whys

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am trying to cull many things out of my life. Only by culling, we can embrace new experiences. I am trying. God knows, I am trying...

vinyl dreams

Charlotte Gainsbourg, AnOther

lost in the vinyls
she looks out into her past
trapped in the circle of life
she does not not subscribe to sadness
everything can be said but it is never ever done
edges are always raw
one has to scale that
in the mist of the songs in her mind
chimes are curved, scattered and tattered
a mirror reflects the vast step she has taken
no one skirted the issues like she did
holding on to the last straw was never her agenda

vinyl is plastic, undead to environment
jumbled songs play out cheerily loud
bravo for it, bravo for it

contemplation

the steep steps of poetry breaks into my stupor
like a drunk, I gravitate my naked feelings 
towards that ditch of feelings
my mind's breaks have failed
I am unable to hold on that diminishing virtue
such a burden to all
can you lead me to that palace 
where I can wish to be myself
in the stretchy bends of life
there is no room for turmoil
if I could only believe that
I don't want to relive the past

hidden from the world, I escape you
just let me be with my poetry
I will not put brakes even if it cuts into me


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Writing this after 11 weeks. My muse had died suddenly but seems to have come back. I am not sure if it going to last or not. I do not even know what I wrote above makes sense or not. Does it, do let me know!!