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 Nov 2020 Shrika
Alien
Untitled
 Nov 2020 Shrika
Alien
The more i feel
the less i speak,  

The less i know
the more i hide,

Just when i began to understand love
it gets taken away,
i just don't seem to fit any glove
i pray everyday,
my window carries a mourning dove
and so i stray
my aura sickness whats stated above

I am desperate though
for a warm touch,
a kind word
but for now,
i will lay here
on my mattress
and weep
as the days dance away.
i feel so hollow
 Nov 2020 Shrika
Jermon
Meaning.
 Nov 2020 Shrika
Jermon
A poet of prowess, of power
Soars words on the edge of her tongue
Fluttering, soaring, stuttering
Free
Or chained.

Words hold no meaning
Without intellect.
Emotions hold no feeling
Without recognition.

We assign these names
These courses of action
Bullets
And bouquets.

True meaning
Is defined not by the humane.

For we only can know
What we are taught.

Yet our acknowledgments
Are our own.
15.11.2020
 Nov 2020 Shrika
Jermon
I walk in the winds
Sword in hand, unfamiliar
A back roll through bridges covered by assassins
To be unseen

The exodus lays open yet its majesty
Is not its literature
But art, engraved like that of a tombstone

The corridors red and oak-lit, carpeted
And pure magic

The power ups work with
The right angle
A back flip onto my feet

Till the dungeons cry
Dead oceans
And ferries of the undead

Through the skies and the seas
Whales and eagles,
Running,
Sword in hand.

I breathe.
17.11.2020

A mash up of my dreams, minus the sword, wind and undead.
Hopefully the start of something new.
 Nov 2020 Shrika
annh
СНЕГІЅН
 Nov 2020 Shrika
annh

СНЕГІЅН
what you have;
the sticks and the stones,
the brittle bones and the names
you call yourself out of disappointment,
frustration and contempt. СНЕГІЅН it all; the
rituals and the struggles, the battles lost and won.
Eventually, those positions held so uncompromisingly
will be surrendered, by choice or by chance, to the
nothingness from whence
they came.
W
H
E
T
H
E
|          |          |          |          |  ­        Г          |          |          |          |          |
you are at one or at odds with yourself, whether you like it or not, they are a part of what has made you who you are - informed your choices, shaped your present. Return them to the bedrock of the earth, the ether, or the ocean, if you will; but do so with grace, fond remembrance, and a care for that which lives on within you.

‘I have had to experience so much stupidity, so many vices, so much error, so much nausea, disillusionment and sorrow, just in order to become
a child again and begin anew.’
- Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha
 Nov 2020 Shrika
annh
We burrow where they lie, our fallen brothers. Old sweats and fledgling crow bags, both. In death as in life, they have our back…and so we plough on into the abyss by the light of a caged phosphorus flare, hot metal spraying the midnight hour like some vengeful fay’s buckshot.

A human scaffold supports us for the distance of four miles. That’s Piccadilly to Hampstead; Circus to Heath. The length of a lifetime…of  hundreds of lifetimes. In the winter when the rains come and the trenches run like a quartermaster’s latrine, the soil sloughs away to reveal the ossuary within. It is then that I, in my now customary delirium, imagine that I can reach out to shake their hand again.

‘Sunrise and sunset are blasphemous…only the black rain out of the bruised and swollen clouds…is fit atmosphere in such a land. The rain drives on, the stinking mud becomes more evilly yellow, the shell-holes fill up with green-white water, the roads and tracks are covered in inches of slime, the black dying trees ooze and sweat and the shells never cease…they plunge into the grave which is this land.’
- Modris Eksteins, Rites of Spring: The Great War and the Birth of the Modern Age

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PcgceA64aAI
 Nov 2020 Shrika
Sreeyaa
and i'm still here,
even after you left,
gasping for air,

struggling,
still breathing,
heart still beating,
blood still flowing,

soul burning,
there's so much pain,
bright, then flickering,

time's flying,
i've stopped crying,
i've been surviving,
just not living
it takes time,
everything takes time,
till then, bear with it  :)
 Nov 2020 Shrika
Sreeyaa
lights
 Nov 2020 Shrika
Sreeyaa
sparkling lights, yellow and red,
swaying in the breeze, dancing,
to it's tunes, for the better times ahead
Happy Diwali!
 Nov 2020 Shrika
Veritia Venandi
White transparent tiled floor
Arranged in a lively mosaic
Speaks tales of a spooky world alongside me!

The windows and the curtains hugging the plastered walls
With views of flower trees and mountains near and far...
Gets reflected upon the tiled floor
Upside down, shadowy and unreal!

Maybe it is reminder for my heart
That the world I see is only an illusion my mind frames to colour a blank canvas
Maybe the world is true only upside down
The scenaries and sights distorted and fake the usual way...
Maybe it's important to bend your mind all the way
And try to see what can't easily catch the eye...

A sinister universe breaths about me
And only once in a while tugs at me to have a glimpse...
And whenever that happens, it's a moment of all eternity that seems to go worthwhile!
This is a real experience that happened to me when I was kind of doing nothing... My eyes suddenly caught this reflection of the window and trees outside on the tiled floor in the room and I like sort of felt it as a metaphor with the help of which the world was trying to teach me something... That the real world is not what is in front of us. It is usually kinda different, in a way, 'upside down'.
Thank you so much for reading and being a part of my reflections. ❤
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