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826 · Jul 2013
I Am In the Ivory
Shashank Virkud Jul 2013
Two hundred years
can pass between a page.
Two hundred years
can pass between a day.

I've laughed and died
along side the best of stems-
blue stars- I've swallowed
every shade of that hue with no shame.

I've seen the picture of Dorian Gray.

I've held pearl white,
brazen beauty in my hands,
but gambled it all away.

I've been there,
I've been somebody's light
refracted through their prism,
coloring them in so many ways.

I've been given
amethyst sequined nights;
along with other pleasures,
I gifted them away,

because
I've seen the picture of Dorian Gray.

I've been given
such expressions,
you, the pallid, petrified
rose. But I am in the
ivory, I am in the alabaster-
I serve no master-
and no one can make me stay

because

I've seen the picture of Dorian Gray.
Shashank Virkud May 2014
It's eleven o'clock,
my socks are wet.
You pull a silver spoon
from your pocket and say
I'm not finished yet.

Steal the links to our chains
golden fences
never looked
so flimsy.
Go hungry for the holidays,

how do I die again?

I heal better at home.

So come on over.

My ears are ringing,
I'm singing songs
of yesterday.
My ears are ringing,
you don't think
things will ever be the same.

Collect all the garbage,
put a ribbon on your prize.
My ears are ringing,
and I'm singing
how do I die again?
811 · Dec 2014
Burning Amber
Shashank Virkud Dec 2014
I'm bashful,
I'm broken-
hearted,
I'm born to do this-
die like this-
with every twist,
every flourish,
every blister-
are you burning, Amber?
Sore nose with a corkscrew in it-
the holes you bore-
I'm boring.
mundane-
remaining unnamed
because boys are all different yet none of them stay very long-
for the shame of it-
hot shame, burning amber-
are you burning, Amber?
-
oh, if it wasn't for the shame of it!
807 · Jan 2013
Feverish
Shashank Virkud Jan 2013
Not everyone is in.

Not everyone is in
a position
to feel sorry
for their own souls.

I wanna write it tonight.
I wanna write it right now.
I wanna hide from the light,
out of sight right now.


I wanna cry
once I find
the line that fits
for you, you

don't
get most
things that I write,
most things that I like.

After five
hundred sunrises
L.A. has nothing
to say to you.

Went to your house
for dinner last night,
all your
family's frames
were crooked,
girl,

don't make me write
tonight,
I've already
doubled my
entendre
once or twice
in spite of you.
Shashank Virkud Feb 2012
It's creepy,

eerily





empty.


Things stand still while I'm sleeping.
800 · Jul 2010
The Wolf and the Wool
Shashank Virkud Jul 2010
I can smell your agony,
watch you suffer,
catch you for supper.
I can tell you're onto me.
I am the wolf.

I've walked countless trails
to the same slaughter,
she ran but they caught her.
My happiness is frail.
I am the wool.
By Shashank Virkud- From Miracle/Whimsical
799 · Oct 2011
Bitter and Blue
Shashank Virkud Oct 2011
Bitter and blue,
because I was never true.
Bitter and blue,
I see the quitter in you.

Bitter and blue,
I want a better view.
Bitter and blue,
fit for only a few.

Bitter and blue,
it's quicker to chew.
Bitter and blue,
I'm a lot sicker than you.
794 · Mar 2011
How Minds Are Lost
Shashank Virkud Mar 2011
Silk in a serenade,
each second becomes a day.
Just stay for the blink of an eye.
Now I have a reason to lose
control of my breathing.

Sympathy in the strings I play,
not so much in the things I say,
no matter how hard I try.
Unaware of the passing season,
am I staying or am I leaving?

Cornerstones crumble,
I don't trust my senses enough.
I've got a feeling nothings' real.
Now I have a reason to
really start screaming.

Polished brass,
shattered glass in the garden.
Examine the facts yet abolish
the past, a history lesson isn't
something I'm going to believe in.

The creases in time are
seamless in my sleep.
A fragile frame of mind,
I hate to suppress it. I'm inclined
to ask, am I awake, or am I dreaming?
Shashank Virkud Oct 2014
Lethargy
crept up on me
in the beginning,
in a slithering,
sordid sort
of way.
Retreating,
the opening,
the closing doors kept
repeating
themselves
and left me
depleted;
porous woodwork,
ashen, decrepit;
the walls that wept
dust mites
in the absence of
a keeper,
in the absence
of light.

What a wicked way,
what a thing to say

to a skeleton in his grave,
rattling sporadically,
stench of love decayed.

Gracefully laid down,
head full of gray clouds,
reserving respect
for all those dead sounds,
keeping kindness
for my pallid hounds.
Shashank Virkud Sep 2012
My ears are scarred.

My ears hardly hear anything anymore.
761 · Aug 2010
Pink Threads
Shashank Virkud Aug 2010
Flying in a florid fit,
I'm cutting close to the cosmos.
Off the top of my head
I get dizzy, sixty green gleam stars
half a yard away from my pink threads.

Let me think of a time I wasn't with you,
it's so hard to choose, confused
by my ruse you follow all the clues
to my blue room.
This night is ******* up.

I should be in the garden
with all my friends,
laughing at all the trends,
singing for hours inside my head.
Instead I tread on a few fibers of
brilliant blue and pink threads.

Stay awake, take it slow while I kindle and glow.
The effect will never dwindle or go away.

Sixty green gleam stars
that lit up my blue room.
Like I've never felt before,
these mushrooms.
Fumes from hash, I kindle, I glow.
My blue room has one window.
Nothing like a ******* drug on cue
to take me to the blue room.

Look below,
as the distance grows
with quiet gin, two violins and a piano
pick the perfect piece to paint the scenario.

When I miss you
I write some ****,
but this isn't it.
There's a trail you take
to the room the moon
turns a pale hue of blue.

Stay awake, take it slow while I kindle and glow.
The effect will never dwindle or go away.

My pink threads aren't very far
from sixty green gleam stars
I put to paper with lead.
This view from my blue
room will keep you awake,
with a feeling to fake for it.
Shashank Virkud- From As the Distance Grows
761 · Oct 2011
Dead Poets
Shashank Virkud Oct 2011
I left before I could blow it.

Bright light, moonlight, whatever,
it doesn't matter, the setting is irrelevant,
the fact is,
I've noticed you before the grave.

I left before they could know it.

Call me whatever you like, whatever,
it doesn't matter, the semantics are irrelevant,
the fact is,
we made it all up anyways.

My dear, I left poetry to the poets.
752 · May 2013
Sort of Sordid
Shashank Virkud May 2013
Savor,

don't waste.

develop taste, rather;

sordid.
751 · Apr 2012
Roxanne
Shashank Virkud Apr 2012
Really man,
Roxanne?

That song

is

so

****-
ing

old.

Obsessed
with these
western scales,
embrace your anxiety.

It will probably
make you a better person,
that is,
if you ever
considered yourself human.

"Deeper" means "meta-",
make an analogy.
748 · Nov 2011
Our Skin
Shashank Virkud Nov 2011
I used to have the most sensitive skin.

Just any old graze could
raise the hairs on my arms
and send me into a shiver.

I used to love being touched.

Your skin is like plastic
when you breathe and stretch,
a wretched figure with
more than one world of
pain endured.

But you know,
it's interesting
(our skin),
now that I'm
calloused.
746 · Jul 2011
I Can't Get Away
Shashank Virkud Jul 2011
She found a corner to corner herself in,
yet she broadened her prospects,
and so she grew out of her love for me.

There it was, her car parked in a lot.
there's a whole world out there, does she know?
Dumb-****** *****, my own street isn't safe anymore.
734 · Jul 2012
No One Is a Regular
Shashank Virkud Jul 2012
My name is not Matthew,
I'm not Thomas but take a little bit of me.

My name is not Andrew,
I'm not Peter, but give a little back please.

My name is not Bartholomew,
I'm not Jude; Philip always insisted but he was rude.

My name is not James
and I could care less 'cause I heard Matthias was a mouse.

Andrew couldn't give a **** though he didn't mean to curse.

John told me that Simon said Peter was sorry.
732 · Apr 2014
Forces
Shashank Virkud Apr 2014
Last knock at seven pm,
if I'm taking too long just tell me when.

Holy honey that melts in your mouth,
you'll only find that kind down south.

Tongue in my cheek, lungs filled with the view,
I've been talking to blurred visions of you.

And I'm stuck with the ugliest luck.
And I could fall...

but then I feel your grip tighten up.

I wish I knew what went wrong.
If there could be a switch-
if I could hit it-
turn everything upside down.
Shake the rain from my sandals,
if you light a candle
I can handle the rest!

See I thought it was me
but it's the world that's
been spinnin' around

and around

and around

and around.
725 · Jul 2011
My Mistake
Shashank Virkud Jul 2011
I'm not too
fond of you.
With a
crippling
crescendo to
defend your song,
there's no use in
prolonging, so
let me say what
I have to say to you.

The fault was
all mine,
and I'll take
it with salt and
lime. I mistook
swine for a swan
and got it all wrong.
723 · Dec 2012
Never Necessary
Shashank Virkud Dec 2012
We never say what it is to say, that is, what is the pertinent daring of the day.
And on top of that-
though,

all that which that is on top of is all of the above?

Just that?

I can do...
I can
do...

better than you.
Shashank Virkud Jan 2013
Ideas, our egos;

stroke that genius,

*******.

Because nothing compares to the real thing,

because nothing compares to a brain freeze.
705 · Apr 2011
Better Times
Shashank Virkud Apr 2011
Six rusty lamps I lit
in the evening
had all but
burnt out,

and from the other room
I heard you shout,
"the ceilings'
beginning to leak."

Mud on the tiles,
your footsteps
stomped and squeaked.
We were all in disbelief.
We had a feeling we'd
be there for a while,
so we found a
board game to
keep us all sane.

I've had my lows
and I've been pretty high,
picture frames are windows
to better times.
Feels good when the wind blows
over the street signs.

We felt it dying down,
I found a railing in the yard,
discarded by whatever tore
through the streets,
roaring ahead of us.

Crying, you held a bird,
failing to fly from your arms.
You knew she wouldn't
last another day.
The storm had finally passed.
Shashank Virkud Sep 2011
I had never heard
a voice like yours
until I talked to you
from between the door
and I had nothing
to hide so I let you
inside because you
knocked.
We didn't even
need the fire after
our bodies touched.
When I woke
up in the morning
I was in nothing
but my socks,
with the shade of your
lips on my neck.
The same
shade of wine
that stained mine.
We were in a snow city,
well actually, it seemed that
you left; bereft, it got cold
in that dingy motel room.
I clenched the letter in my hand,
unopened, until I had my first
taste.

Ripe with rhyme, I'm
coming down now.

Your words were very clear
but I'm still not sure if you
meant them, and hell, it's
been a few years.
I still haven't sewn
the last stitch, the fists
you abused with.
Your wrists are still
bruised from when
I used you last.
It never got warmer,
I only grew colder
after that day. Or maybe,
the sun was shining
strong after all, and it was
just me that could no longer
accept what it had to offer.
Don't waste the warmth
on something that's already
frozen over.
When you left,
you buried that city of snow
along with my heart,
a long time ago.
660 · Apr 2015
She Wants
Shashank Virkud Apr 2015
She wants
she wants
she wants
she wants
she wants to know
why I'm spreading
my time
so thin,
why I'm spreading
my mind
so thin.
She wants to know
why I'm sinking
just to swim.

She can take a ride in my car.
She can take a side of my heart.
She can.

She wants to know
why my neck
is so thin,
she want to go
to Jupiter again.
She wants
she wants
she wants
she wants.
650 · Aug 2013
Post Murder
Shashank Virkud Aug 2013
We are not the classics.
You will, we will never be.

Beware,
for your art
is aware of itself.

Let it fade into
post modernity,
let it die quickly,
in fact,

***** it
yourself.
641 · Jul 2010
Empty Handed
Shashank Virkud Jul 2010
We're dancing in the moonlight, chancing that the mood is right.
Lady Luck won't **** with me tonight.
By Shashank Virkud- From Miracle/Whimsical
638 · Oct 2011
You Better Remember
Shashank Virkud Oct 2011
These are the flowers I picked for you,
remember to keep the blackest two.

These are the songs I'll sing for you.
Remember, I hope you remember
the saddest tune.

These are the lungs I blackened for you,
remember, always inhale those fumes.

These are the lies I spread for you.
Remember, you better remember
what's really true.
Shashank Virkud Feb 2012
Maybe,
if you crush
up just the
right grapes,
and put
them on
the highest
shelf,
in an airtight
jar,
maybe,
in a hundred
years,
someone will
drink them and
think,

wow,
that kid was
pretty *******
smart.
Shashank Virkud Oct 2014
When will I be able to live my life
without having to sleep through half of it?

Will my stomach
ever stop aching?

Why is my skin
crawling?

Which part
of my soul dies
when I check my gut,
stick a skewer through my brain,
pinch a nerve in my neck
until it pops;
what gets left behind
when I make a compromise?
610 · Apr 2013
Flicker
Shashank Virkud Apr 2013
Remember how you lost it
when you found that poetry in my closet?

I'd put a cool kiss on your ankle,
touch your feet.
You used to cheat on me.

All so long ago,
crushed with common sense,
and again, it's irrelevant.

Misery,
dig deep,
make me happy,
squeeze a smile out of me.

Comin' up on that second wind, babe,
lotta things I'd like to say.
Worthy of conversation,
I know, those reasons
have something to do
with why my face twitches
and why
the light switches of my mind

flicker.
608 · Sep 2011
Starve Me
Shashank Virkud Sep 2011
So you wanna be
PJ Harvey?

Starve me.

I see how thin
you stay for him.
606 · Mar 2012
There Are Lines
Shashank Virkud Mar 2012
Notes in ink
jump between
the black, they
jump between
the white, and

there are lines being repeated here.

Sit in libraries,
pretend to read,
grid out fantasies
on a globe,
there are lines being repeated here.

Never did
have **** to say,
I admit it,
and so

there are lines being repeated here.
575 · Mar 2011
A Note On My Door
Shashank Virkud Mar 2011
I don't know who I am or what I like anymore. Bored with everyday, everyday I try to settle the score between me and what lives on the floor level of your mind. Finding out you're a plastic bead on a string of gems, accepting you're the stem and not the rose.

I don't know what I am or who I like anymore. Give in, give in like before. Heard a knock on my door, won't question it more. You left a note on my door, I have to settle the score between me and what lives on the floor level of your mind. To find you're a rhinestone, defining the beauty you juxtapose.

Keep driving away, keep it hiding away.
569 · Aug 2011
A True Home for My Writing
Shashank Virkud Aug 2011
One where I even pay rent.
Shashank Virkud Jun 2011
What was
your question,
what is
this quest
you're on?

Driving,
with the
ocean on
either side
of me,

to reach
you,

reach
for you,

     it's
dividing
    me,

      the charm
   and the
harm in it.

Restless,
when time
takes too long
to move me along,
who can I call upon?
560 · Jul 2011
You Live For Nothing
Shashank Virkud Jul 2011
Your
pitiful
pain,
I dont know
when you
became
so *******
vain.

No shame.

Would you be happy
to see me small?

Would you be happy
to see me fall?

Would you be happy
if you had a god?

Would you be happy
if you weren't a dog?
546 · Jun 2014
Hook
Shashank Virkud Jun 2014
Saddens me to find out there is no more madness to this method. The chaos has decayed, leaving traces of the bruise but the abscess dry and cracked, a hold for a hook sewn right in. A misconception, you are mistaken, this is what is most readily available while on vacation. Dehydration is an acceptable form of payment for the prowess slipping through your synapses, cornering and cutting off your sanity. Someone told me I could ride a star out of here, or that I could buy a car, and learn to ******* steer.

Her ribcage rendered the furniture redder, she snapped her fingers to the fourth man and said you were always a dream to me, no wonder you could be so mean to me. I said I read it in a history book, she looked at me like some Chinese light show, or a Russian disco, glass from a gutter that will grind against you through the night. Never knew her name, they called her by her birth date, hey there April 24th, 1988! With a heart that scars like a diamond, bangs against the table, her own head she cant handle.

She said my hometown hates me, it's my own time I'm wasting, I'm too lazy, and you, you haven't been around for me lately. I said I read it in a history book, and that I always thought you were better than me, smiling in a way that says sorry, she said it takes creativity.

Something I'm avoiding? By the very nature of it. Something in the structure of it, in a particular strand of DNA it is ingrained, running away. I said I read it in a history book. She laughed, didn't let me off, taking pleasure in my pain she leaned in and whispered, you don't remember mine, but I remember your name.
530 · Jul 2014
Heavy Hands
Shashank Virkud Jul 2014
I can only rest when I have energy to unwind.
Sometimes there is no other answer,
sometimes there is no one to call,
and I cannot rest,
I cannot rest now.

You said you saw those seeds about to sprout,
you poured the water in
and then you poured it back out.
It was never about us.

There are things about me I don't even know.
watch me in my sleep,
get my lips moving slow.
In the darkness, you, the candle,
can see all of my shadows.

You hold my heart in your hands,
you hold my hands apart,
you hold my heart in your hands,
you hold my hands apart,
you hold my face in your hands,
you hold my heart in your hands-

my heavy hands apart!
506 · Apr 2014
Lazy Crunch
Shashank Virkud Apr 2014
If I trust
my intuition I will never die.
If it's a
crooked institution I won't
ever hide.
Say it's sold,
say it's told to us,
I won't ever fold to it.

This is the new way,
this is full on mastery
of a hidden language,
feeling
the part you **** with
and being oh so...
languid.

Did it
ever occur
in
history?

In the
purple sky?

Probably
not.

Don't hate me.
Blame your
freedom for letting me
cover up folly
with pride,
set good
taste aside,
and be this waste.
449 · Apr 2013
Not Here
Shashank Virkud Apr 2013
Did you really print a bar code on the cover of it?
If that's what you'll do to put a dollar in your pocket
you can have it.
Maybe if you weren't so ugly you could have sold your body as well.
And your soul.
Shashank Virkud Feb 2012
She never said she'd stay.


I'll be okay...


...one day.

— The End —