i find certain poets
too engaged with
a pronoun interchange,
and underusing nouns,
with some fear to
clear their footprints
to go further;
and there's no reason
for them to go further,
there's more reason
to stand-still... and disengage
from the basest description
language of overly using pronouns
and speaking like philosophers:
referring to everything with the
word thing, whether that's
a subject or an object or whatever.

Deviants we are who gathered at this square table,
Dancing and cheering with the elixirs of intoxication,
I stopped and smelled the fresh air,
There was an abundance of it

A parade passed by for the eyes of the able,
A parade of beautiful shapes,
Surrounding a malady,
A deadly lady, the Bella Donna,
With her dilated pupils and seductive looks,

They witnessed a deadly parade,
Everyone met with the deadly nightshade,
And they kissed her for luck,
And plucked her ripe fruits,
And hallucinated with her,
This was a tale of the dead,
And they would never see daylight

Fools who consumed nature's toxic,
They met the lovely 'belladonna',
They were after all, consumers of nature,
And now She consumes them back.

So here we are gathered in the rectangle plot,
The mood is somber under dark grey clouds,
A parade of lost souls under an earth lot,
I couldn't scream no more, as sand filled up my mouth,
I stopped and smelled the foul air,
Whatever that remained of it.
- Vijaya Balan © 2016

Paint me.

Add color onto my purity.

Sacrifice your clean brush,
for an angry stroke of red.

Let the colors define your emotions.

Paint a strong current of blue to show me,
just how sad you really are.

Let the colors define you.

Let a little green in,
portray your caring heart.

Let me in.

Add a tinge of yellow around the corners,
holding onto that thin line of faith you still have.

Let go of yourself, artist.

Stipple white gently,
and match me.

Let everything you hold be free.

But remember to avoid black,
for it destroys a perfect painting.

But if you must,
then add black,

and destroy me.

She was an ordinary girl
walking down the jilted path
questioning the existance
searching for answers
unfolding the mysteries
reading the souls
writing about fears
learning people by heart
guarding her secret
wearing a smile ...
fighting her battles
making them aware of
her ordinary existance !!