On the riveting tiger skin,
intricate tantric motifs
nature has deftly sewn,
indicative of the mystery
of communion predicted
by the stars, the fish in
intergalactic oceans
that dream beyond time,

her lush, **** body spreads
in anticipation of the union
foretold,in palm leaf scrolls of yore
the ancients wrote, as revealed to them,
defying all human logic.

Shiva, merges with Shakthi
Lingam, the ******* plough of creation
seeks Yoni, the fertile awakened
feminine soil that awaits sowing.
The churning of the milky sea begins
in excited, repitative,  motions
till nectar secretes, bringing sublimation.

Then begins transformation,
she becomes the devine lust
of the universe, the receiver of pollen,
to create, proliferate, sustain and spread,
the circle of mystery widens every moment.

The tiger skin on which she lies
before him assumes its grand version now,
it's the sky, without a beginning or end,
she now is the drawing  of the universe
reduced to  the symbolism of female body,
a pure white piece of cloud, taken by wild wind
above hills, dales, that in course of circumnavigation
gets pregnant, then, rains in torrents over the earth.

the union, an energy in waves, spreads
creating fertile imagination, in all beings
earth in green pulsates, with the  universe,
the rhapsody resulted is in all colors.

At age 8* my teacher would ask me what I wanted to be when I grow up, so I told her a fashion model.
She laughed and wrote it on the board.

At age 9 I wanted to be a doctor along with half of my class.

At age 10 I wanted to be a teacher, they all told me it takes a lot of education and I would have to work hard in order to get there.

at age 11 I wanted to be an artist, they told me to pick something more realistic so I said a singer.
They said to stop playing games and choose a job.

at age 12 I was pretty hooked on the idea of a singer, so I sang
And I sang
And I sang
Until I believed that I was good enough to be famous.

at age 13 I was so confident about my singing
Until I heard their voices.
Most of the girls in my choir were reaching the high notes and their tones were so clear.
I gave up on that dream.
I knew I wouldn't be like them.
So I began poetry.
This was the year I wrote my first poem "nobody cares".
I showed it to a few really close friends and my sister.
They said it was really good, it got them emotionally and that was what I was aiming for.
At first the poem was about 2 pages long but I cut it shorter every time I showed it people because they told me what parts didn't make sense to them.
I took it as a way to improve my poem.
So then I started posting it on quotev, and tumblr, and now hellopoetry.
I wasn't expecting anybody to like it.
I continued poetry and now it comes to me so easily, I can write poems like I'm writing my own name.

at age 14 I told my teacher I wanted to be a poet and he told me that
"I needed to improve"
At age 14 I didn't know what I wanted to be.
Nothing was good enough
Nothing was realistic enough
Nobody gave me enough support to go with my dreams.
At age 14 I decided that I wanted multiple jobs.
I still haven't told anyone because I already know what they're going to say.

The clouds are windy
And foreign, light rays
In the sky is my dream,
I am nestled in wave
As we run sleepy to shore.

In the wet sands of beach
Are markings of birds,
Little traces before flight,
Their steps to heaven,
Before rain washes away.

The stars are gleaming
To know us, but I only
Know you, what mystery
There is in knowing,
How flesh is temporary
And the eye eternal.

Please come be with me
Into breaking love dawn,
Please come to know me,
Grab hold of the wind,
Set me to flame like stars
Above, I only know you.

I wear it- to shackle sorrows.
and breathe dynamite
In siren light.

'Purity'
Is blind--
As

Blackness questions
My fabric's regret
I have closed palms
And now I bleed-gum
Frets--

The silhouette-disjointed
With withering away
In disappointment

Digs a trench-
No bigger than a

Whis--per
Saying sorry.