"eventless" poems
Flawed eventless, the muck to the mire
To the river crimson with lustful haze.
Supressed desire flows like light, rapture to the gaze.
Feverd, clamy, tossing, turning
Lying wrestless on the floor.
Sarrow slips, through the cracks,
to come smashing through the door.
Famin parched, the scream to the cry,
to the path trampled in fits of rage.
Unrelenting fire, burns like ice, denile in a cage.
Calm, relaxed, watching, breathing,
Standing idle at the sash.
Anguish waits at beck and call
to come crashing through the glass.
Hidden in a seamless world of delight and joy and glee
A fractured cloud of misery waits
to have its cake and thee,
to reval as it sulks with company.
Ever growing spawned by fear, deathly silent in its' plea
Eating away at the sinews of faith,
dispair awaits its' time to flea.
Akin to death, friend to evil, slient screaming in its' vain
Dissolving with trust the passion of the lust
Envy plies to its bain.
Passion and fire, burning desire, these monsters are not the same.
All too familiar, confusing just the same, betrayed by flesh.
What is there cannot be had, for surely this is no game.
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 4:04 PM UTC
event that speaks to hearts smile
climbing over miles of sky
falling to graceful rhythms of care
singing spires of temples high
eventful days that turn and burn
passionate fire the desire of life
stinging pains that don't go
life's sweet nectar that soothes it all
events that endorse tears of joy
fears of loss that evaporate
crying hearts that unite
forever more the light shall shine
the event that inspires
drives the high
creation is a magic potion
brewed in the cauldron of eventless time
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
20.08.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 2:42 AM UTC
the fragrance of this room
like stale beer and stale gloom
I sit on the floor with my heart
dreaming of something or someone new
but even if it comes along
I wouldn't know what to do
the signs all say I should change
but I don't know if I want to
I should learn to loathe the ones who hurt me
instead of loving them more deeply
an eventless day with loneliness by my side
I'm trekking the barren land in my mind
and I began to realize, the happiest period of my life
was nothing more than a waste of time
love comes so sweetly and calm
but leaves in a flash of light
it's giving me headaches
I've seen it so many times
I'm addicted to the feeling
but I'm becoming blind
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 11:14 PM UTC
The Moon is cratered, crying desperation,
the marks on her skin stretch far beyond all impacts--
Her orbiting celestial guidance a withering pawn,
moving ostentatiously across the fields of our minds
and motivating sorrowful inspiration into all those
who wish to share her connection with the heavens.
The Moon is grey and deficient of life,
coated only with mounds of crumbled featureless dust
and razorous peaked mountains which shelter none.
Her craters are of magnitude unmatched, and
carrying the memories of eventless imprints,
affecting sentient beings null and watched by the same.
And the space rocks may crash into the Moon indefinitely,
and the only while we will stop in our engagements
is when she has finally been obliterated and the
tides of the oceans gone mad, and the spin of our earth
drastically distorted;
and the calamity will be unparalleled where finally
we may feel the bleak and distressed nature of this rock,
and we may watch gallantly as everything we ever knew
is destroyed completely, along with our legacy and our
self-important views.
The moon she will fade away into oblivion, and we will
travel with her into the dark of the infinite sky.
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 12:23 PM UTC
Sweet torture
Inescapable fate
Running through stems of veins
In ounces of amount
Yet
It isn't blood
Which easily comes and go
Dies and immediately replaced
It isn't oxygen
Which sustains
And very much desirable
But this we crave
This we are cursed with
True, a blessing it may be
To others
But to some
It raises envy
Hate
Longing
Because it comes
In all forms
It varies
In state, most of all
Visible everywhere
Have you guessed it
My dear friend?
That thing we both behold?
It's life
So
Can you tell
This dear old fool
Why we are grateful for it
Why we believe it to be a grace
For is it not
What I worded it to be?
An inescapable fate
A cursed fate
It is but a traitor
Our friend
Dear and true
That eventually comes
And stabs you in the back
Not once
Not twice
But countless times
Innumerable periods of time
It ******
Digs blade into you
Molds you
In the most painful ways
Why?
Because we've done
An effort in living it
And for what reason?
When it always ends
The same eventless manner
Death
For does not life
Come with death?
We do not remember
But we know
We've experienced it
Many times
Stone age
Victorian periods
Warring eras
Like the saying goes
"Been there, done that"
So do pray tell
What is the purpose
Of existence?
Of even trying?
When we actually understand
That it always ends the same
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 8:34 AM UTC