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Kelsey Banerjee Jun 2020
oil splattered
underfoot
dripping from the diya,
leaking slowly
cotton wick burns black
smoke wisp
bending
paints the ceiling
like kajal  
around your eyes.
my palms trace the wooden
alter,
a splinter punctures my thumb.
POSSIBLE Feb 2019
Sorry to...
Hit yo noes
like a brick of green
Like the grass that grow
nourished by the Celtic saints that know

Man tell a lie better make it true
if you don’t, then what do I make of you?

Now Wonder Woman
no wonder were human
bringing Brooklyn
some thunder hoodlum

My baited brown eyes look up and down you

Mile marker .66
and I’m still hitting this
crisp as a chrysalis
you may be the eyewitness
of my fist to this

more like the wittiness
of my pen tip dipped in ambergris
I get around you get the gist
healing hands I mend the cyst
with broken hands I gripped the rich

don't understand
don't worry
like Krishna I persist

zzzz Slept on like
The buzz of viciousness
**** the violence
turn the red to VIOLET
just look right through my eyes slit

Now and then
divine feminine deigned
to grace my face again
turned fake eyes to grin
false pride, double subs, and sin.

Complete appreciation, genuflected form reflected in

this fertile goddeSS
who puts the seeds in season
She see through SnakeS and reedS when
She based in wiSdom
reaSon

designed to take the basest race
from darkest depths to airs of divine space
till we’re flushed with grace
some are hushed by my ace in the whole

I'm a S33ker throwing axes
but YOU better only call me

an axehole

when
I
mis
s
.

***** simple as this.
I͕̩̞’̘̞̯m ̩͙̫͚̳̼͚s͇̞̞̯͕̳e͚ṱ̖̼̯̯̟͔t̘̞̹ͅi̼̠̺͇̪n̗̝̫g ͍̞th͈i̮s̮̟͕̫̫ ba̠̠̮̤r̠̙̼
͉̲I͖̱̫͈͖͈͖’͈̯̘̞̘m̞̠̠̯ͅ ͔̯̬̳̮s͚̘̝͎̮̣̩t̩̩̬̖e͉̖p̜̻p͕̼͎̗̣i̝̗̙̘n̰̫g ṱ̪̺͎͖̬̳h̰̝̘is̲͇̺ ̫f͍͉̠̹̣̯ͅa̟͉͓͖̦̗̩r͇̫̬͎̥
̹͉̱̫̟̩T͕̼̯̣̼͉r͍̘̘͎̝̤̟o̜͔̣̭͎͇n a̭͈̘̜̻ͅn̬̩̱̭̞̜͉d̺ ̠̖̯̠th̺̜e̦̯̫̙̤̠͉ ̫̟͉̗̠̤̦m͔̳a͔̝͉t̯̜ri̥͉x̦
̝̦̳͙̯b̭̤e ̯̰̖̤̯s͚̩̺̩ha͚͇̼͍͇p̭̜͖in ͕t̙̤h̟̳̣̯̬is ̠̼̹ͅc͓̼̝̣a̯̭r͓͔̙̮̠͎̠
͇̞̻̖̬
̱̟ș̝̞̫ome̯̜͎̙̤̜ͅ ͔͓͔̝͚̬s̗͍̹̟͖̼u̦b̙̜͚ͅs͖̯ ͈̦̣ ḅ̼̬̬̯ͅu̞̬̩̻͙̝m̜̭͔p͙̟̩̼̼̳ ̳̘͔͕͖͖͓s̜̺͕o̜me̖̱͓̺ ͈̣
̣͔͔̖̖b͈͖͖͈a̫̰͔̤̜̹r̤̭ͅs̻͉̼ ̗̯̪s̤͓̟o͈͕̞̞̜̯̭ ͖͙̮h̻a͙̞͇̟ṟḍ͕̻ ̖̯̘̝͕͙weͅ ̻ri̹̖̞̣͙̬s̻k̹͇̼̬ ͎̬̤̪̳̹̟mars̜͇̩͇
̹͕̖
V̺̙̞e̲͓̤͍i̹ṇ̥̰̮͍̜̟s̼ ͕s̘͍̮t̫͍͚͕͎a̙̹rṭ͖̭͕̟͙ ̺͕͎͎̖ͅp̼̮͔̭o̲̻p̙̞͕̯̫p̹͉̮͇̼̗ͅi̥̱n͚g͕̱ ̯̣̙̘̗̺̤
̤h̰̤e̺͓͓͕a̻͎rṭ̥͈̗̮̻̣s͖̠̠̤͚̼ ̗͉͓̫̱̫c͍̫̜͎͉ṛ͚̭y̘̰ ͉̗̙̻̩h̙̱͈a͔̮̟̥̞͕r͙̣̠͎d̟̬̰̫ ̰̻̭̖̻̜̬i̻n ̟͎̳̹͉ͅt͕̠̟̖̘̹h̻͓̗͉̭͖̦e̱̞͖͓̰̪ ̩ra̗͉̜̞̻ͅͅi͉͕̱̹̠n̩
̝͎̙m̜͔̱̮̻͔̜u͉̜r̮d̟̫̞̗̹e̺̭̟r̞̘̭̤ ̘an̞͔̬̫̥ͅd̺ ͙̭͔̖̤͎b̠ḷ͔̜̭̩̫͕o͕͙̬̦̝͇o͕̺̝͚̖̙ͅḓ̻̯̤̫̪̦
͇͓͚̪it̘͉̬̞’͇̞͖̺͓̲̱s̱͕̼̣ ͖̰̺̮̼̠̣n̥̝̥̼͉̙o͍͚̥͈̫t͍̜̰̞ ̼̻̗̮ha͖̭̺͙̟͖̭r̰̬͖̙̣̬̭d̲ ̻̝͙͙͔̤̘t͙͔͍̟̫͉̗o̬͓̟͙̘ ͖͈̥̬̠͎ͅe͙̮̱͓͉n̼̫̜͉̘t̪̠̹̼̲̝e̝̱̖͙͎rț̠͕̰ͅa̲͇i̥̜ṇ̙ͅ
The lute of my heart
Sways to sweet tunes
Come,o come
Glorious conscience
The song filled
Lotus garden
Of my heart awaits you
O one who stays
In realms unknown
Holding the lute(veena)
Of my conscience
In her hand
Under her control
Not only is she the
Manifestation of
Ambrosia filled
Goodness
But the sacred
Goddess of the word
By whose divine touch
What surrounds her
Is blessed with such goodness!
Her very image
Is like the glory
Of light
Of a diamond
The beauty
Of the dreaming
Eyes of a deer
O somewhere
That radiance
Does reside
In my heart's place
By the presence of whom
This day and this night
Are sweet to enchant
To their heart's glory
O the fragrant enchanting
Directions
Touched by the honey
Of the cuckoo's song
O show yourself
O goddess
In this radiant glory
Let my eyes
Be blessed
Once by
Your divine grace
O do not
Reside anymore
In the realm
Unknown
Of my mind
Under the veil of
Shadowy illusion
Manifest yourself,o Devi
Let your grace enlighten me!!
To one who is fair
Like the kunda flowers adorning her
Who is adorned by white clothes
Whose hands are always
In a posture of benevolent grace
Who sits on the white lotus

— The End —