I'm hypnotize by your perfect flaws

no one knows

i'm just barely an extraordinary person

whom shalt i love


i'm drenched in your love

i'm drenched and no one notice it

i'm deeply overflowed with your soul

can i stay by your side?


will you take me to your home?

A home that i can stay forever

but how long will it endure

until you found me nowhere

She opens a vein
Red roses explode
Split petals bloom
Fractured rainbows of gloom
And doom

This is as close to the kisses
Of the ones she misses
That she can get

To forget in drowsy hours
Those dripping red flowers
Like the red queen
Her love was just a dream
A holy holiday
Of her lips to her lips

Because society resists
Wouldn't allow her to exist
Since she doesn't fit as she is
She decides to exits this ****

A radiant girl
A beautiful woman
Cruelly dismissed
No one knew
Her inner lighted truth
So how can she be missed?

Total departure to our needs is the reckless stupidity of how we are becoming our own executioners.When looking down on mother earth from father sky they wonder as to what their siblings are dreaming of as they hurt and maim their own mother.
When will people who justify their greed ,instead of need realise that their greed will not even give them their very  basic requirements for being here!
Humanity,through some strange concept,has set itself up,knowingly,as the controller and destroyer of all that gives them their basic needs,"their mother and father".
Man in his greed has even tainted the rays of light which give us our birthright,LIFE,for without it we would not exist.
By an infinite membrame,or so greed presumes,lying between good and bad,we live or die,but greed has stretched and widened that belief to horrific depths in the name of need.How long before it SNAPS?!
The coolerof our mother and bearer of us is poisened and wasted every moment. The ever overexploiting ****-sapiens will not letgreed stop them,even in their mothers death cries.A huge propergater of everything,mother gries in pain as she starves and with her ,her siblings.
The sun now burns her soft skin and moisture does not stay to cool her as she sweats.How long must or can she endure this torture?
Would we do it to our human mothers?
A family tree of pain is her reward for nurturing us.Her womb dries as the moisture is ****** from her veins and poured on to her belly as she screams.The sun rips it from her no longer cool and loving but hard and fierce like a furnace.
Onwards greed trespasses into herpumping heart,her skin is poisened and erupting like puberty,but still man is unmoving in his attitude to himself.
She speaks to them everyday but they do not hear or sense in any way her agony.Oblivious to everthing greed rumbles on deaf to its very basic needs and requirements.
As she criesfor help,her breath encompases all as she resusitates all with her sibilation.Can you smell you mothers breath?Will this last vain hope of hers go unoticed as greed races against its now foul wind?
"YES" because greed has stunned even your basic senses.Yo do not see,you do not hear,you do not feel,you do not taste ,you do not smell,even your most common sense of all is wasted "SURVIVAL!"

Between the three elements lies another.Without any one of the three the other is non-existant.
Running headlong,greed does not even notice its own reflection,blinded by its own need!Our mother is wek,her milk is drying,her skin is wrinkling,her touch is burning,her sight is blined,her taste is foul,her breath is stifling and her hearing is fading,she is DYING.
Her umbilical cord is strangled as it dries up with the assassination of her soul.  Will her soul be heard after we have  vanished or will we awke from our sleep of arrogance and greed and realise that EVERYTHING is not worth NOTHING.

For when she dies her death throughs will mame and slaughter us even as we count-?

                                                                        

                                                                                  "OUR MONEY"

My friends a pizza cowboy
My uncles a interpreter
For the grainery
My cousin lives inside
Dry mouths
and my mother
Makes fake smiles
my other cousin
sticks his pruned up
Hands in rivers of unwanted
pasta
My father makes sure
Boats do not go gently
Against the stolen tides.
I think of the underdogs
Whenever were all together
We sit on the same green couches
Durring the holidays.
The same ones that tell us
No matter what happens
Were going to be ok.  We sink
And recline in the coushins
And forget about
Nine to five for a few honest hours.  
While we drink and eat and lauph
Underneath the same old popcorn celings.
The same living room
Where every thing happening now
never went unoticed because
Ireland found England after
The bombs after the soccer game
Where she said (after the game)
"I want nothing to do with that *******"
Are you sure about that grandma.
Better stay away from uncle george (the keeper)
He wants you to meet his friend (the forward)
Who played for the Blackburn rovers.

Inspiration swayed,
Then swerved,
To a forgotten and unoticed corner of the room,
Quietly resting in a dusty and darkened shadow,
Brooding woefully,
Turning in on itself,
It waited,
Hunched and starving,
Ready to pounce,
At the first thing that moved,
Tearing at the flesh of ideas,
Ripping apart the drawn conclusions,
Sinking its teeth deep within the illusions,
Holding tightly,
Until the last breath was drawn,
And then moving,
Moving on

Her eyes were big & round  
the light within them shone like yellow sunflowers

Her body framed with skin soft as clay

of an array of colors  

Fair like the sands of Punjab

Burning red as baked earth with brown undertones

Sienna , caramel , dark chocolate

Short & scrawny arms encircled  by gold, blue, silver bangles

  based upon her class in the caste system

  A portrait of peacock linen

   Hair flowing as night blackest sky roped licorice



Born in a world ruled by ironfist

An unoticed lily growing beneath the swampy waters of traditional thoughts

Takes a innocent breath from swirling field winds

Rushed to the other side of eternity without giving a chance to deliver the gift God put inside her.



Mother & daughter were thrown in the yard

for everyone to see

as if they were no better than trash

Splashed with gasoline & set on fire

For being a girl .



Priyanka:

I wonder where you are

I wonder are you safe

My first baby I carried in my heart

I pray that you are loved

I pray that you are safe

I pray that you overcome the dark shadows of India .

Quit checking for monsters under the bed,
When I realized the only monster was the one in my head.
My buds have blossomed, some even wilted.
To the world I am walking tall, inside I'm way off kilter.
Far from what I once was, yet not sure as to what I am to be.
I've traveled so far, but have so much to see.
I watch as my footprints fade behind.
Can't help, but crave a rewind.
Too hard to constantly look back.
It eats away at me everyday, as a matter of fact.
However, everyday is a fresh start for me.
Stopped leaning on what could have been, & started looking at what could be.
Like riding a bike, there is only one way to keep your balance.
You have to keep moving...that's the challenege.
Take risks, be brave, ignor the interference.
There is nothing in this world that can replace experience.
It's about the places we go, people we meet...things we do my dear.
We must travel in the direction of our fear.
It should derive from your dreams, if not they aren't nearly big enough.
Stand tall with open eyes & keep your skin tough.
I may not have made it to where I want to go, but I think this is exactly where I need to be.
To be honest, it's not easy, but the challenge is adrenaline to me.
You aren't living if you take on the world with stealth.
Life isn't about finding, but instead, creating yourself.
I have realized that elegance is not being noticed...it's about being remembered.
So i don't know about you...but my doubts have surrendered.
Time to start living for the moment with confidence.
After all, we only live once, so start listening to your conscience.
There is a world full of obvious things, that go unoticed everyday.
Mouths full of words that aren't sure how to be delervered in the right way.
Open your senses to feel everything, take it all in.
Let loose and just go with the wind.

Now
I have had enough
Of living beneath the debris
In the low shadows
I am sick
Of living small and hidden
In the cupboards of life
Sick of going through the hallways
Unseen, unoticed
I no longer want to be invisible
I want to emerge
From behind the veil,
Push the curtains aside
I am claiming the crown
I want sunlight and nightfall
To belong to me
I want the beams to bend at my fingertips
I want the wind to submit to me
I want to be immortal
I want to be the captain
But the problem is,
I am less and less
And nothing
Yet still aching for something
Still reaching for what I can't obtain

like the snow flakes that fall from heaven above

each flake is unique just like each time we fall in love

it starts out as something small that gos undetected

while it grows more visible but not enough to be protected

floating on the wind it begins to take its beautiful form

when it reaches you it may go unoticed, or may comsume you like a storm

you can handle it, though making it last will be the true test of your will

with something so delicate and fragil maintianing it takes great care and skill

so when you finally have love so much like a snow flake in the palm of your hand

take the time to inspect and see it for all it's beauty and I think you'll understand

slowly as it melts and fades away from your view

these things were not meant to last  and theres not much we can do

nothing so wonderful will last forever even if we hold on tight

so enjoy the moment no matter if it last weeks, days or just one night

adrift at sea

Jude Kyrie

my poetry has become
a seagulls cry.
my soul is adrift
on a becalmed sea.
This sailors wife has
knitted his death
into his sweater.
the sea shall swallow me.
Unoticed with its infinite greed.
The cloudless sky
will take my poems
and recite them in sea winds
from a place on high.
the verses now melt
Into a single sound.
my poetry has become
a seagulls cry.