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Lalin Dec 2014
Fume of the mystic air
flows to create
an invisible lodge
a harmonic rhythm
of knowing the other.

Sanctuary of Love
shelters the Kiss.

Received touch
makes up
points of  Desire
as flesh and blood
from the etheric.

A fluid transparency
made of interchangeable
unique crystalline particles
of unseen color,
an indefinable atomic structure
Draws contours of a  body
that subtly shapes along the kiss.

‘Kiss me’
is a thankful whisper
‘Play me to a oneness’
gratifies the breath
along  her neck,  
lips, forehead  
and knees
an anechoic chamber of limpid breeze
rectifying bliss
an irrefutable awareness of joy  
a gifted  Unity
an honored desire

She feels the
colors of zephyr and without visualizing
grows into the derived equivalence
of emerging pinks or  jutting greens
she is destined to remain as invisible as
his’… not owned - not reserved

‘nothing stays nowhere
a thing is not received  if you are not there
A blessing of the moment  is everywhere
you are drawn to where and what you truly were’

As the body gets formed
miracle gets real
As miracle gets real
the body gets formed

and mutates
a lucent gate
towards a universe
so The wind can pass

At the edge
she molds
to …
…. a
……….something new

The lover the love
The now at now
senses itself  
in white lines
a bridal delicacy
‘A flower’
tales say
with myriad petals
living at the edge of the universe

She reads the volatile coolness
of the warm colored
differently sized light trace  that
the fumes,
the kiss ,
the breath,
the blow,
the zephyr,
the lover
has become for her

she traces
his ever expanding Trace
so that perpetually  he shall progress
for the universe
while she remains
and observes
as her nature requires her to be
as their dual existence is conditioned to
as is nature’s one
or Love’s

She,  the precision of  joy that he creates for
the eternal witness of bliss
Colored by divine light
of rejuvenation
of freedom
of truth
at a place beyond thoughts
at the edge of a universe.
Lalin Dec 2014
Sitting under a weird tree
with my pretty dress on
eyes shut
Senses open
I wait for you

Oh dear tree
-as weird as we together can be-
When you come,
if you come
Bring me a single flower
A flower whose nature we both know so well
A pure and the untouched one- you know?
And make sure it will be
as pure as all the destroyed purities of this universe
as untouched as all the pains touched
and only then
I will see you
with my eyes shut
sitting on top of the sole sunny ray patched hill
painting patiently
as future and past gets so near Now
glow of your face
is my palette of pastel colors
diluted by crystal waters
oh and only then
galaxies, stars and suns
radiated by your glittery eyes
which I have known so well
since the beginning of times
will form a new land
for the creatures here
and for us
at this new place
across the bridge
we just managed to cross
before its collapse
you know?
When you come
if you come
I won’t move until that time.
Lalin Dec 2014
Good morning!
You have been greeted by pink and orange roses this time.
Do you mind?

We actually have everything here!
They shape as we wish
under colorful prayer flags.

Flags receive their color
daily fresh from
rainbow harvesting lands.

We have dots of hopes breathing inside.

Look! here is one drawing,
etched by a child for you.

She says it is you and her
walking hand in hand
entering a building
which would look like home for you.

She says if you look carefully
you won’t feel lonely here.

They do shine really
these dots of hopes
She too is a dot of hope.

You just don’t need to think
It’s that easy
so they can outline with you
even almost literally

A cool warm indigo spot
hidden behind the imaginary walls of an igloo.

An igloo is made of living frosted color glass
We call them our red blue green recharge huts
similar to your dreams:

it is something like
when you would see a remote tea-light
with the side of your eye
and make it an ardent nautical sign
of an early morning
that fades to a call of
a nameless  
well known
yet unexplored
future memories
it is still so still

slowly then
yellow catches up

our sun
outpaces dawn
and mixes up jazz

an ensemble we are then
something similar to your differentiable landscapes
but ours are nowhere-differentiable

so please hold that little girl’s hand now
She will teach you home
this time.
Lalin Dec 2014
my bike blue
is a special blue
that’s how I recognize you
when it ‘s dark

it shines morning skies

I suspect
yours is no paint
but an invisible skin  
that secretly
and inhales
moods of me
to shape thyself
in harmonic postures
of us

so that
you and I
will manifest
one ride one road
roads will form with us

we pedal a mantra

my bike blue
is a special blue
that’s how I recognize you
no matter the light
you are by my side

but at times
like tonight
when we are apart

I may also prefer to walk alone sometimes

under a starlight
to witness
the change
of a phase
of matter

an urge
to relate
to my body

as I used to do sometimes

that walking fast
activates a memory
they would know
where to take me
and so I follow
my footsteps

empty streets
is you
in my mind
I compose
random chords
of traffic
of cars
of flows
of minds

cannot catch up
with us
neither of pasts nor of futures
words escape to stars

stars will sing lyrics for you
for us  
next time when we align
each time a song of reality
is a new one

my bike blue
is a special blue
that’s how I recognize you
second life was the name
of the man
who made me for you
here is sound file of my mix with these lyrics:

I really bought my bike years ago from a store called Second Life :)
Lalin Dec 2014
I changed a title recently
Not so deliberately
neither to bother nor to make happy
but a joke at most
when it comes to wishful thinking.

It was a moment in the shower
‘a bit of singing
a bit of equation solving
a bit of cleansing’
then I knew what was missing
so it goes...
while you do as if you are not thinking
but you still think
with the side of your mind
during sleeping
washing the dishes

All these irrelevant daily tasks
serve for creating motion
to resolve an x
that sits not so right
in your mind
towards some essence

I changed a title recently
Not so deliberately
to make you happy
or sad
or paranoid
or mad

It's just a matter of knowing
the true self
at most

tell me if there is more than that
but I know you can’t.
Lalin Dec 2014

You can’t stop Monsters
by locking sliding doors
Monsters do pass through


Ask it to a/any child


Only a child knows


Only a child can show that



Monsters are not True!

a spoken poetry/song:
Lalin Dec 2014
We never met but when I think about you that sudden heavenly fragrance fills my air
Covers uncongealed irregular volumes of minimal fluid
Teases me to the level of my nose so that I can smell a forgotten reality.

Is that maybe the ability of your sobriety trespassing through my impenetrable doors
immaterializing the burden of the heaviness of my lost lamented selves to an all equally valid lucidity?
You came so close recently
while I was doing shopping on a gloomy rainy afternoon
creating a **** twist at an ending of my mouth line revealing
a sudden dreamy smile which had the inspiration to give birth to an orange flash of joy.

A joy that clears away the opaque broken colorless paint to a crystalline transparency
so that
so that I can see
the truth of me through your poetry.

We witness and observe at rest now
All of our indubitable aura
of equivalent authenticity
Hanging in balance
Subtly floating
Flowing the airy
In the suit of colorful wild flowers of an unknown prairie
and only this way
I can relate to each of me
without being afraid of losing the permanency
of you or of me.
Inspired by my reads of all poems here that reflects human condition as if  of me or a new home for me :)
Lalin Dec 2014
If you could be everyone for me
then I am sure nobody wants me.
:D my twisted version of a compliment I got from a friend
Lalin Dec 2014
Have you also smelled the snow today?
I reckon!

It came to me eyes shut
A little summer breeze outside

Carried by an undeceive December rain
Waiting for a rainbow sunshine
But it never happens!

And I know it is unlikely
here the snow  inside
or meteorologically outside

except maybe it’s on your sight light-years away
I should be smelling a living joy as what is lost of me

and so I become a snowflake
to connect
hang just
above a mountain lake

a bit nonchalant
as I like to be sometimes
by my temperance the wind balanced
so that I stay upright
above an exact measurable point
become the fairest of fairies
a fairy-bride feathery white

for fun

but also to pass on spirits of me properly
as I stretch myself from dust  to my wholest parts
I become the matter of the flake’s material
and I don’t care but know only by being
the duped me infinitesimally

either the one above this lake or another
slowly descending one
to touch the tip of your nose or lip or forehead
And I know then you will recognize me at once
when I tickle you softly
as you know so well by now  
how it thrills and hurts in one breath
cold or hot spot
that’s what our game is about right?

Which one is of you or of me
haha I DON’T KNOW really THE DIFFERENCE it seems
is getting a little blurry
AND that not only for me but also for you
or thee
and that very last one for fun or for the sake of the rhyme ONLY!
Lalin Dec 2014
Oh the kiddos outta there
whoever again dare to call me names that end it with a Girl or a Mademoiselle

You at most reflect an image of me to fit to the level of your potency
same as to a ridicule of your fantasy
weeping and spitting big turfs of
-at most admirably-
musical words
as your age allows you to be

an equivalence that functions still
OH THE WOW in most efficiency
only whenever the rhythmic pumping ejects seedlings
to swim up the rat-race
from your reptilian starship  
parked at sacred ocean’s depths
crossing a few inches behind thyn abdomen
towards your jellyfish brain

and that’s shorter than TIME
oh the poor whining with BIG Holy One
hidden in the oaths of your monstrous

so now listen in PURE Attention to me (if you can)  

It’s True my first kiss was at age twenty three
HAHAHA and yet not even a romantic one
at most an obligatory
who knows maybe a task
from the higher self
probably to teach me
or the physical body -

YES and the last one at age forty
that tried to **** all the ****** futility outta me
the rest and the in between remains dark and edgy and thorny

who cares when it does not bother me
what business does relate to you oh my Sexuality
or the inherited ****’ beauty
but that makes not less of me when
I am now almost 43  
my coal black hair made of Sea Breeze
grows the beauty of my aging color
to the creamy WHITE topping of delicious wisdom cookies
baked by my peaceful wishing
the joy of my child innocence remains
to fire Passion and Desire
which I reserve
to one/ single poem only
who made me realize the truth of me recently  
that I  haven’t yet dated … a Monsieur
who dares to call me a Madame
with whom I can fully be Me and grow towards a maturity.
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