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when your joy is not there, and the angle of your descent is the stuff of legend
be advised. you have but one soul to squander; so wander the better ferals of your naked truth
and be lovely. when you despair, you have a habit of dread. you ensnare the vertigo of your plummet
and rummage through the rancid
with no maths for Happy
all day.
you have your boisterous silence.
but the wheel;  is mute kindling
of our fire.
an ice dart in the sun's thigh.
the bones in your heart
for tiny giants to grind
for our bread.

and some kind of love that makes it hurt
nirvana has no heart.

you must dissolve
in all directions to arrive.
you must not be
too american.

and have a **** salad every now and then
it won't **** you.
There's a bomb in my head
That is about to explode
It was there when I went to bed
Still there at the morning commode

There's a bomb in my head
That will end it all
It will make me dead
It will make me fall

There's a bomb in my head
That can help me sleep
Put me in a coffin bed
And burry me deep

There's a bomb in my head
I won't let it hurt you
It will make me dead
It will make you feel blue

There's a bomb in my head
That can't stop my flow
It makes me dread
But will is stop me? No!
Lips, soft as petals, rarefied as undiscovered
Wild orchids.

Hair, threads of gold gathered, woven, mined
From secret caves.

Eyes, that fell from violet skies landing on new
Isles of azure.

Skin, so salmon flecked, subtle, delicate, solas,
Destination.

Your body is buried cask and gilded keeper
Of jewels and flame, whispers, searing cold,
Blue fires untamed—

Lush, fertile wanderings, colourful birds, sweeping
Moon, pools of sorrows and light, trees branching,
Pleasures keen, crushing delights without name.
When I can no longer see
And the way is dark
You shine a light ahead for me
And beat for me a path

When I feel I'm sinking
You help me rise above
When I want to hate
You show me how to love

You may be real or perhaps
Just inside my mind
But I feel you watching over me
Almost all the time
Deep in the beehive of my brain,
an invisible queen bee* lives and rules.
Just a drop of honey from her honeycomb,
can bring the salvation I yen for all along.
*Pineal gland also known as "the third eye" is a small(5-8mm, the size ofa grain of  rice)endocrine gland in the vertebrate brain, to which is attributed  mystical awakening or enlightenment,clairvoyant perception and higher state of consciousness.
 Jul 2013 Vijayalakshmi Harish
JL
_don't lie
you run from it too
Do you wonder?
Even touch the darkness/ skin to skin
Blind sheep stumble stumble fall
Have you forgotten so soon?
As the leaf falls from the holy placement
So shall we dance about the iron rod
He shall step down as the morning sun
And stamp us beneath his gilded feet
We little ants
Will bite his ankles to the last
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