My words, becoming literal.
I'm losing grip on deeper thoughts,
I wish I could find something more
But darkness fills my deepest caves.

I cannot mask my blunt remorse,
Unsatiated hungry thoughts.
I try so hard but I am weak,
My dusty bones can't hold my weight.

I am a force to all I love,
A burden they cannot hold up.
I'm sorry I am much too frail,
But you don't have to keep me safe.

There's something wrong inside my head,
I keep on wishing I was dead

The silent screams of forgotten souls
The poor things tethered to their worldly regrets
Are what haunt me in the dead of night
Pale ghosts glide before my eyes
Their images distorted by the veil between our worlds
They gather where their lives have ended
Pining for the times when they were alive
Or filled with a need for vengeance
Just the same, unsatiated

I find myself looking for words.
Combinations of feeling
I did not know existed.
I cannot breathe.
I struggle for them
& make myself a fool.
The world was so big before I met you
& now I'm grasping for it,
unable to recall it's delusion
as I am pulled into your orbit.
Out of drifting dreams.
My mind goes blank
& all I can see
is the dark galaxy that is you.
Alien, beautiful & natural.
You haunt me.
I nearly never believed so big,
& you infiltrated this complex defense
to show me what's been missing.
Half crazed by the loneliness of space
I cannot articulate.
Another form of art I hesitate to express.
I do not trust myself
that it will not be perfect,
fluid,
each stroke of the tongue
like the brush fear failure.
I want to show you all I see
beneath the stars.
Let the brilliance of the moon shine through.
But she is stuck.
In the cloud of curious awareness,
my eloquence cripples me.
How many things can I say
before I lose my grace?
& I dread
the company of simple minds
who cannot love stories.
So eager,
your patience holds the hand of the clock.
I want to watch your eyes glow
lit up by the music from my lips,
& I want to be carried off
by all you reminisce.
I can't believe in chance
when a soul like yours comes to court.
Thrice even.
I am challenged by the core of you.
Inquiry.
Things I cannot see
& stopped looking for.
If I take no notice,
I will not be seen.
Drawn into someone else's dreams,
Abandoning me.
I forgot how to identify
with my kind
so that I did not lose me.
Then I rusted over.
The great machine locked away
while the shows went on
in Technicolor.
Introspective
losing passion & luster inside this shell.
How you found me,
only body in forum.
You took me out to play.
Engaged, stalled, oiled & sparked
Life.
I am reminded of a better me.
An affirmation,
of my Dominant heart.
His voice,
the coaxing in my womb to Be.
Away with closed up, dying to shine.
You wanted to show me off,
pretty girl.
I remember being a Goddess
& shattering the abyss around me
with heart & raw warmth.
The fire of honesty.
Unsatiated wander bred in me
& I held nothing back.
Now the world is clay
& my garden to build upon.
Train me to grow.
I am inspired to be stardust.
Permeate every corner of this heavenly body.  
I find myself the eager student of Aquarius.

Violating a placid spirit
Memories transgress  
desecrating the sacred.

Memories are
the dark side
of a full moon.

Memories are unsatiated desires
couched on sorrow  
entangled in time
a perennial wrinkle on the soul.

Memories are trespassers
possessing neural atrium
wading saline sockets
slithering in to throbbing veins
tiptoeing to hollow spaces
burying all under their eerie weight,
Memories are an inescapable affliction.

In fragmented mindscape
Memories are violent winds
littering the past.

Lurking behind aches  
in ethereal garbs,
Memories are assassins.
Or sema
of a swirling dervish.

Hurtling within, Memories
is an avalanche
pounding the abyss
choking the void
one gasp at a time.

Memories are
nameless apparitions
fused as shadows
to the very being.

Memories are an assault
on identity and belonging.

You are a guardian of the law
Your duty is to keep crime at bay
And bring the criminals to justice
But, as I watch you,
Wearing a khaki uniform
And swinging your baton around
As you go about on your daily rounds
I am filled with such a rage
That I hold my hand up in prayer
And desperately wish that thoughts could ****
Because you would then be dead
Before anyone could even say "police"

You are a guardian of the law
Your duty is to keep crime at bay
And bring the criminals to justice
But instead, you abuse the immense power
That you wield in your iron fist
As people come out in hordes
To protest on various issues
You swing your baton around
As wood clashes against flesh
Democracy dies a thousand deaths
However, your lust is unsatiated
A pistol replaces the baton
As it rains bullets
Bundles of cash change hands
As you quietly pocket them
You yell to the world
That justice has been served
Even as the bodies pile up
And Humanity waves a white flag
As she bows to your iron fist

~~
                                        a young couple roams these woods
                                             wounded by Kama’s arrows
                                          in each other’s eyes they find solace
                                           the rest of the world does not exist


a heavenly lass Pramadwara is                                                              a­ handsome young sage is Ruru
beautiful eyes, luscious lips                                                            s­trong and virile, though not a prince
slender waist, wide hips                                                             ­                        face bathed in benign light
every inch an apsara’s offspring                                                        ­   the result of his spiritual penance
Ruru’s heart is in her possession                                                   Pramadwara, that divine beauty is his

                                                            ­        lost in each other
                                                          t­hey roam these woody lanes
                                                    unaware­, uncaring of anything else
                                                   of love’s sweet wine they drink deep
                                                the more they drink, the  more unsatiated


and then fate rolls its dice
tragedy strikes!
Pramadwara’s unseeing eyes
find a serpent underfoot-it bites!
throes of passion turn into throes of death
in her lover’s arms she slowly dies
                                                            ­                                                      broken-hear­ted, wounded of spirit
                                                          ­                                                     anger seething within, Ruru mourns
                                                          ­                                             “my love’s sweet journey is not finished
                                                        ­                                       too young, too beautiful, too full of life to die
                                                             ­                                                                 ­ my Pramadwara must live!
                                                           ­                                                       and if she can’t, then I shall follow
                                                          ­                                                          this world is nothing without her
                                                             ­                                                                it is uninspiring and bitter”
saying so he prepares to die
till a voice from heaven arrests him
“Ruru do not mourn your lover
her time had come, you are no mere mortal
a sage you are, with spiritual knowledge
you need not be taught, what is written is written
time cannot be turned back, so leave this foolish path
accept that she is gone, turn back!”
                                                         ­                                 “what do you celestials know of love and hurt
                                                            ­                                                  you who neither live, nor love or die
                                                             ­                                  you exist unaware of love’s magnificent spell
                                                           ­                                           its pleasant charms and beautiful bylanes
                                                         ­                                                 and certainly you knew not my darling
                                                         ­                                               or of our love, so pure, so full of longing
                                                         ­                 that now remains unfulfilled, like a cruel broken promise
                                                         ­                        without each other I cannot live, nor can she truly die
                                                             ­           her soul shall never find peace until I join her or otherwise
                                                       ­                                                                 ­                      she returns alive”
back and forth they argue
each one unyielding and stubborn
but in the war between love and logic
love is triumphant here
a deal is struck, destiny is forced to yield
under love’s incredible power
                                                           ­                        “Ruru you are adamant, you refuse to compromise
                                                      ­                                                              so you shall have your lover’s life
                                                            ­                                                                 ­    in exchange for a sacrifice
                                                       ­                                         half your destined lifetime you shall give her
                                                             ­                                                           so neither of you shall live long
                                                            ­                                             but while you live you shall be together
                                                        ­                                        if this is acceptable, use your spiritual power
                                                           ­                                                   to make the exchange, but remember
                                                        ­                                                      your life will be that much shorter”
but what is eternal life without love  
so in a trice the exchange is made
from her deathly slumber Pramadwara awakes
to Ruru’s eager, enthusiastic embrace
tears of reunion mingled with pleasure
eyes looking forward to
a life and a death-eternally together

                                                    ­a young couple roams these woods
                                                           ­ wounded by Kama’s arrows
                                                        in­ each other’s eyes they find solace
                                                        th­e rest of the world does not exist

-Vijayalakshmi Harish
  02.10.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish

Old Elm that murmured in our chimney top
The sweetest anthem autumn ever made
And into mellow whispering calms would drop
When showers fell on thy many coloured shade
And when dark tempests mimic thunder made
While darkness came as it would strangle light
With the black tempest of a winter night
That rocked thee like a cradle to thy root
How did I love to hear the winds upbraid
Thy strength without while all within was mute
It seasoned comfort to our hearts desire
We felt thy kind protection like a friend
And pitched our chairs up closer to the fire
Enjoying comforts that was was never penned

Old favourite tree thoust seen times changes lower
But change till now did never come to thee
For time beheld thee as his sacred dower
And nature claimed thee her domestic tree
Storms came and shook thee with aliving power
Yet stedfast to thy home thy roots hath been
Summers of thirst parched round thy homely bower
Till earth grew iron—still thy leaves was green
The children sought thee in thy summer shade
And made their play house rings of sticks and stone
The mavis sang and felt himself alone
While in they leaves his early nest was made
And I did feel his happiness mine own
Nought heeding that our friendship was betrayed

Friend not inanimate—tho stocks and stones
There are and many cloathed in flesh and bones
Thou ownd a lnaguage by which hearts are stirred
Deeper than by the attribute of words
Thine spoke a feeling known in every tongue
Language of pity and the force of wrong
What cant assumes what hypocrites may dare
Speaks home to truth and shows it what they are

I see a picture that thy fate displays
And learn a lesson from thy destiny
Self interest saw thee stand in freedoms ways
So thy old shadow must a tyrant be
Thoust heard the knave abusing those in power
Bawl freedom loud and then oppress the free
Thoust sheltered hypocrites in many an hour
That when in power would never shelter thee
Thoust heard the knave supply his canting powers
With wrongs illusions when he wanted friends
That bawled for shelter when he lived in showers
And when clouds vanished made thy shade ammends
With axe at root he felled thee to the ground
And barked of freedom—O I hate that sound

It grows the cant terms of enslaving tools
To wrong another by the name of right
It grows a liscence with oer bearing fools
To cheat plain honesty by force of might
Thus came enclosure—ruin was her guide
But freedoms clapping hands enjoyed the sight
Tho comforts cottage soon was ****** aside
And workhouse prisons raised upon the scite
Een natures dwelling far away from men
The common heath became the spoilers prey
The rabbit had not where to make his den
And labours only cow was drove away
No matter—wrong was right and right was wrong
And freedoms brawl was sanction to the song

Such was thy ruin music making Elm
The rights of freedom was to injure thine
As thou wert served so would they overwhelm
In freedoms name the little so would they over whelm
And these are knaves that brawl for better laws
And cant of tyranny in stronger powers
Who glut their vile unsatiated maws
And freedoms birthright from the weak devours

He knew the ache could not be recompensed
they knew it too the moment echoes fell silent
There was already not enough love
in a world grown dark as darkest past

It wasn't the color of his skin nor dialect
or the  journey of a  thousand  miles
Not the place that he'd come from
       back when ―  left behind

             nor a heart of gold,  
      that never became a home

The colour of  unwritten silence
had  eclipsed  the waning  light
On the run from who he'd become;
     ashamed for all he was,  
couldn't erase a lifetime that felt a waste ―
               trying to untie a Gordian knot

He saw his body as an entombing barbwire cage
    imprisoning  a  wellspring  of  love writhing deep therein

Immured at arms length from the outside world
    where  the soul of a teardrop  abides  within
                         its insignificance

Shielding the  inherent  maelstrom
                          from the innocent passersby
Buried thoughtfully for the greater good of all ―
for the unsatiated dream boundless love betides

Written  artifacts  exhumed  like  ***** secrets
a lifetime of stigma's stain swept under the rug;
just whispered words written from an unfinished life
few ever really looked deeply between the twisted lines
arising from the soul of just another passing stranger

The long road begets a suffocating silence
choking out,           extinguished love inhumed
Ashes  of what once had been life aglow of light
               forevermore shrouded
          like the dark side of the moon



rivers

The sensuous drool from the luscious lips
Dripping on your chin, and confluence
At the *****, where, eternal love resides
The glistening stream of consciousness
Only the two conscious souls are waiting for
To take a leap of faith, and drenching the souls
With the crystal clear consciousness of love
Where passion resides at the bottomless bed
Entwined like the eel, slithering to further depths
Exploring the pearls of sensuality, cocooned in shells
Hidden away from the worlds, only for the One to
Take away all the spoil, the bandit of the heart
Who uses the sword, with not the intent to ****
But he uses it deftly to rip open more passion
Leaving the mermaid wanting for more
She is still unsatiated, and the game has just begun
Gasping for breath, underwater,
In synchronization like the ballet, they both emerge
For a while, oblivious of the world
Concerned only about the treasures, deep down
And together they dive down, again,
The bandit is always eyeing the treasure to be exploited
Ready to drown, along with treasures of the heart





© Amitav (Radiance)

Whether storms are all numbered, counted, and expelled from heaven's manufacture as sensational, furious strands of wind and rain, who can say? As they arrive, however, it is nonetheless clear that they arrive as effects to sets of circumstances.

I sat up straight as an arrow, freshly awakened from a stirring dream of madness as the latest one arrived, watching the black clouds like mighty arms, struggling and arguing against the trees outside my bedroom window. I had been torn by an invisible hand clutching me by the throat, snatching me from the murk of an ephemeral bedroom.

Engulfed in unsatiated fear, powerless to convulse even the tiniest flesh patch or creak a bone, my body was wrapped in only a gray silken **** cloth. As I lay awake, speechless, thunderbolts cracked.

As I was rendered helpless to petrification, I was surrounded by strike after strike, a confounding series of white bolts striking seven times in each place, following a path of concentric circles around my small bed.

I struggled to move, feeling a moving static across my body like jellyfish stings from the top of my head to the soles of my feet, as I felt the cold chill from each bolt setting my face into a freezing strangulation.

I was pulled away. I faded away from the smoking holes surrounding the bed, the sub-zero chill outside and the torturous heat of fear and arrhythmia pumping spews and spurts through my arteries inside, and I was left to wander in my own fantasia as I stared up to the ceiling above me in my real bed, daydreaming of its meaning in epistomological fashion.

April 2, 2012.

The only thing I am capable of drawing
is a city skyline.

Anonymous configurations
buildings I've never actually seen before.

Everytime I was handed a writing utensil
and a smooth wriing surface
my hand would flow into the careful rhythm
of drawing parallel lines

some buildings were topped off with triangular party hats
others remained flat
a place for the horizion to rest upon

This started at a young age.
Somewhere between eight and twelve.

My body began to itch for a city
that was overcrowded with the heat
of dream driven bodies

A constant ticking of an alarm clock
that would never understand
the word snooze

Tonight, I am reminded of this feeling.
The worn out, drugged feeling
unsatiated with drawing the familiar pattern

A feeling I've constantly felt
but a skyline I've never seen