O mother, take me there, where I find the gratifying grace,

Take me there, where I dwell in bliss,

Take me there, where I ramble in rapturous joy,

Take me to that miraculous planet and nurture me,

O mother, take me there, where I find the tantalizing nothingness,

Take me there, in to the surrealistic world and let me ponder over the nature’s allegories,

Take me to this exuberant excursion,

O mother, I have become claustrophobic, I cannot live in this enclosed space,

Take me to the infinity where I have no confinity,

Take me through the valleys of sunshine and glory,

O mother, Let me live the eternal love,

Let me smell the soil,

Let me hear the choirs of sea,

Let me be an epicurean,

Let me squelch and tread on the planet,

Let me see the picturesque of nature,

Let me lay my body on the roots of heaven,

Let me dandle on your knees,

Let me construe the dappled sky,

Let me live and leave,

O mother, instigate your benign impulsion,

I long to see you and the world,

I want to be resurrected,

O mother, I loved you before I knew, I believed in you before I knew.

I can listen to her voice before making a sound.....

A deep distant voice he heard;
she whispered something that is more than a scream..and less than nothing...
rewinding the remnant delight....

I am sick of seeing myself in the mirror;
Watching myself as she fades away from my eyes...

Burn me before her like a candle in the darkness,
Let her know that I am dissipating every singular solitary moment in her darkness.,
And I am giving away myself every moment to illuminate her darkness....
Only to know that she is utterly insatiable,
And I cannot throw light into her darkness...
I am just a candle and she wants galaxies,
She was there only to consume my light unless I infuse completely myself in to her abysmal ground and vaporise my light strikingly into her darkness...
She is a black hole where I couldn't escape from her gravitational pull,
and I don't want to escape either because of the same cause.....
Let her relish every moment of my disintegration into that darkness....
Let her relish the truth that I am gone from her forever....(but I cannot go)
And the truth that she never felt that I was with her at least would strike her now....

A sound that is not from the vocal but exuded as a reverberation from you is what this universe is all about.....

Restless
Ever since You infused into my Being

My eyes have not known rest

Eyes open I see only you in all

Eyes closed I neither know

thought nor contemplation or Dream

Just your wild Dance unnuanced

Or the death defying stillness

My eyes know no rest nor respite

With the all seeing One infused in Me.



This blessed restlessness

This relentless assault upon My Being

Please do not stop, Do not stop.

With the first Roar
Galaxies fell out of your
Void. Here we scream
to throw out all that
checks and chokes us.
In a Roar you created
the limitless Creation of yours
In a Roar, we wish to destroy
the listless creation of ours.

Hoping our roars will resonate
with your mighty Roar of Creation.

Tear we did the chords of Sound
Open we did the doors of the Profound.

May every wimpy sound we
make be in tune with your Roar.

Recently,
her mind is
debating
with her heart
resenting
every word
she wasted
on this paper
and all the metaphors
you haven't even decipher
but how
can she stop it
you have brought her up
to the top
then pushed her
to this
bottomless pit
now
she's stuck
in this drop
and it's growing
big
like
a bad habit
running
like
a mad rabbit
munching
on her thoughts
of you
while trying to
remove your face
off the view
like grime
on her tiled walls
made by
endless waterfalls
of whys and what ifs
and all her selfish beliefs
like
how you will read
her poetry
and chew the words
like sticky pastry
but her mind said
"you're wasting your ink"
she should stop writing
poems about you
and let her
memories
sink
in the letters
of your name
that are scattered
in her head
all printed
in heavy lead
therefore now,
she concluded,
the real dilemma,
to wake her up
in this coma
of dreams of you
and
find
a paper
that will reach miles
across the equator



-I Should Stop Writing Poems About You, Margaret Austin Go