"pulsated" poems
Yesterday
Was in the ecstasy
Of realizing that
We were
Those two
On earth
Who liked bitter gourd curry
Cooked with coconut milk ….
Remember?
Think it was
In the sixth life.
We were
Two nascent bitter guards
On the pandal
Spread in the northern corner
Of the farmland
Belonging to a grandmother
In a village in Mississippi
Who used to attend to the orchards
Sitting in a wheelchair.
We had
Watched earth
And peeked
At the sky
Hanging from the same stalk
The scar left
From your tight clasp on my thigh
Scared
After spotting a double tailed pest
Is still there.
The pleasure of that pain
Makes me tearful now.
I am like the faces
In the house of deceased
Sobbing
At times
Bursting into tears
The next moment
Holding back
After a while.
Sometimes
I am all the faces
In the house of the dead
Tears have
Nothing to do with them.
Sometimes
The wedding house
Will laugh and laugh
Till its cheeks hurt.
Just like you.
My dear bitter guard,
When will we
Go back to that
Pandal in Mississippi
Where we had pulsated
From a single stalk?
Aren’t we the ones
To offer obsequies
To that grandmother
Who looked after us
With pots
Of wholehearted love?
Translator - Shyma P
Shyma P : Works in Payyanur College, Payyanur. Translator and film critic. Has translated poems and articles in Malayalam Literary Survey, The Oxford India Anthology of Malayalam Dalit Literature, online magazines like Gulmohar, Readleaf Poetry as well as scripts and subtitles for short films.
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 8:43 PM UTC
Arriving at the entrance of the ancient temple the white rabbit covered his ears. Shattering glass from a high-pitched vibration he leaped away from a falling chandelier.
“I must find our beloved Harvest Moon."
The white rabbit said to himself. With stern affirmation, a dark fog churned then into the vortex he was consumed.
He stopped at the entrance of the temple courtyard; everyone was frozen like statues.
"What has she done to all of you?"
He cried, then pulled out a magic rune deflecting a hail of daggers. The white rabbit looked up at a floating cocoon and saw the shadow witch hovering over the temple roof. Pale skin and veins glowing red, she was draped in a black tattered robe. With a sinister look and a Crown of Fire on her head the shadow witch spoke.
“White rabbit, white rabbit the Harvest Moon is dead!"
The white rabbit took leaped back then cried out.
"This cannot be so!"
Then he pulled from his bag a magic scroll and read the words written in gold.
"I ask the wind to protect me from this dark magic despair"
Then he conjured a circle of trees in a water globe. The witch streaked across the air and swung around her jet-black hair. Then she commanded an infestation of spiders to climb inside the trees and explode. Barricading himself inside a magic bubble he was protected from the onslaught of shrapnel. The white rabbit grabbed the water globe, leaped into the air, and disappeared in a puff of amber smoke. The shadow witch pulled out a blood-red pearl and murmured an incantation.
"Clever white rabbit, I shall find you in the invisible world"
The white rabbit snapped his fingers then magically appeared behind her. He snatched off the Crown of Fire from her head then whispered the following words.
"How dare you use dark magic on me!"
She jumped in fear spinning around, then summoned a devil hound. The white rabbit raised the water globe and merged it with the crown. A shock wave of light pulsated in the air then the witch menacingly yelled.
“Take him down!”
The white rabbit saw in his peripheral view the hound lunge to attack. But he was too cunning for this, with a symbolic wave and a vigorous slash the hound was severed in two.
The shadow witch glared, then cried out.
“We shall meet again white rabbit; I promise you I'll be back!”
Then she summoned a fiery cauldron and vanished with a blinding flash.
The white rabbit ran inside the temple and approached the Harvest Moon. He stared with eyes full of tears and sorrow at a beautiful princess with hair long and blue. A beautiful creature he so desired, the love he had for her was true. He opened his bag and pulled out the globe which was now encased with the Crown of Fire.
"I brought you a gift from the shadow witch"
Then he smashed the globe and with a flash of light, the Crown of Fire was finally free. The white rabbit held the princess and spoke.
"I have always served you because I love you and now, I command you to come back to life!"
Then he placed the Crown of Fire on her head igniting a ring of light. The white rabbit looked down to see the Harvest Moon Princess opening both of her eyes.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 12:04 AM UTC
She tends her cactus garden,
beads of perspiration,
works with a maniacal absorption.
One of many visitors she receives
yet looking at each other's eyes
dawned this quick realization;
similar maniacal obsession and passion.
A tornado she was, self created,
in her swirl uprooted
many huge trees, even tombstones
by the sheer force unleashed,
with her poetic flourish.
Love of a crazy woman
with effervescent creative surge,
is a magical portion
brewed by a witch ,
in her forbidden rituals, night after dark night.
Injured by conjugal lust, unrequited
prompted to walk the garden path
holding hands of lovers, one after the other,
who took her to wilderness, deeper and deeper
and at the end to a blind alley,
life was a tribal dance,
from where return was impossible.
She never had to apologize to her mate,
who for all the world to see, remained with her
till he went behind the curtain.
Imagine a life, a walk
through a cactus garden,where sharp thorns would nip,
searing pain and bleeding has its moments of exhilaration.
Life pulsated wildly for her on such notions,
(There were many who walked with her for each adventure)
They met, poetry flowed like wine,
she had a rare warmth seen in women of such creative combinations,
she feared nothing, but her truth made many squirm.
Midnight dances of her and her friends gypsy bunch,
attained such fame.But all ended in a great betrayal,
she was deep down a naive woman,
craving for love, to immerse in it.
On occasions she would change identities
at will, she was one but many
there wasn't any one like her before or after.
They would walk through the witch's cactus patch,
somnambulists reciting poems,
when they are together, in private,
cactus spine criss- crossed his skin
her nail wrote poems on the back
of the lover of the moment,
each one bled like soldiers in combat.
One monsoon night brought
everything to an end,
the cactus garden was trampled by
big grey wolves, the journey
met with an abrupt end.
What is she, cactus herself,
vampire, witch, lover indefatigable,
with the heart of a lion?
Erotomaniacal poetic surge,
yet a fantasy in flesh and blood?
**They buried her
in a cactus garden away from town
not even ten people arrived to mourn,
not even all her lovers, had time that afternoon.
Her songs of pain, pierced hearts and they
still shed tears,
cactus garden, it was---
the metaphor perfected by her life and death.**
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 12:44 PM UTC
I'll never forget
my first one.
The tree was
aglow;
branches
blazing
with enormous,
yellow and orange,
halcyon sunflowers.
A glorious heat
pulsated
up my back,
their magnificence
radiating
through all
my senses.
My eyes:
wide,
taking-in
every iota
of this visual
majesty.
Transfixed,
in a state of
awe,
my photographic
memory
came into
play.
Snapshots
of
those giant suns
forever imprinted;
negatives pressed,
into my mind.
A night to remember;
when halcyon sunflowers
danced
on the limbs
of trees and
the branches
of my mind.
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
drenched in blue moonlight
I admired her through
the sheet of smoke
in the gap between us
Carefully I
swayed and our arms
greeted with a gentle graze
"I tend to see the glass as half empty–
sometimes completely."
Sudden words drew me
like water from a well
A cigarette pinched by
the uneven crescents of her lips
pulsated, her sallow face
awash in a delicious red glow
"Either way, it's a beautiful glass,
isn't it?"
time nonexistent
She fumbled another
to a faintly open mouth
I lit it in silence
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 11:23 PM UTC
You look at me.
I look at you.
The heat rises.
Arousal is overpowering.
The nausea begins.
You ask, ‘Shall we?’
And, I blush, wondering if eternity will come together at least this time;
Going against my celibacy of a year,
Bowing to the blushing nausea of the routine arousal of a forgotten yesterday,
Awkwardly I crawl on the bed, sliding closer to you.
I sit on your lap.
I feel your hard on in between my thighs.
I rhythmically move with closed eyes.
Blushing, I open my eyes to look at your long black curls.
I cup your long brown beard in my moist palms
My eyes meet yours and they stutter, scatter and flutter.
Blushing, with halp open eyes and wide open *****
I ****** my jumpsuit harder on your hard-on.
Your hands wary over my ***** and I clench my fist slowly over your manhood.
Suddenly, I become faster than you.
I kiss you madly, rub your beard over my tender cheeks and almost bruised lips.
You pause.
I don’t see you no more.
I heat up.
I remember kissing your manhood, loving it, eating it and nibbling it for what seemed to be forever,
Until I choked.
Paused.
The clothes are gone.
And you pulled me by my hair.
Bent my waist before I could grasp a glance of your rugged beard,
Of your sour kiss,
And, then it was just thrusts. And thrusts. And Thrusts.
And a million more thrusts.
After an eternity of an endless void,
It pulsated inside.
I felt a mild tingle.
Nothing much.
Nothing heavy.
Nothing shivering, to me.
To you as well.
It seemed strange.
And then you were out.
And then you were gone.
I dripped.
I dried.
I spilled.
And, I oathed that I will be celibate for the rest of my life,
Again.
Because you grow upper, and upper,
You forgot to make love.
You forgot to kiss me.
You forgot to look into my eyes.
You forgot to caress my hips.
You forgot to clench your nails into my neck
Because the ground does not move anymore.
To let me see the passion in your eyes when you're inside me,
Because there is no more passion left of this copulation.
This coitus is a blank frustration and none more.
It is just a routine now.
It will just be a routine again.
I swallow the pink-butterfly pill.
And I know, that this nausea
This arousal
Will enslave me the next time as well.
And next time too,
It will never be the same as I moan in my solitary void,
Feeling the tingle in my crotch,
Awaiting a warmth,
Tingles, and all the other fantasies.
I will just stand, stare, hope and die without the holy tingle,
And you will too.
We are just jaded, and Jade till it all dims to an oblivion of a momentary jade.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 1:09 PM UTC
Acceptance called out, evoking astonishing silence
Ringing in a whispered new kiss
Of velvety sensations murmuring sweet promises
Such delicate pure visions of bliss
Unforgettable missives powerfully pulsated within
Profoundly affecting all feeling
Shimmering on the edges of what has to be
Treasured without any ceilings
No confines, shorn of imaginary bounds to present
Nestled in shining perfect peace
Acceptance called out, evoking remarkable silence
Ringing in a spectacular release
When our eyes meet tenderly, with arms open wide
No imaginary bounds or ceilings exist
Just the velvety sensations murmuring promises
In the sweetest taste of your kiss
Sep 15, 2010
Sep 15, 2010 at 6:26 PM UTC
Divine Minds Transcend
(First experience with N,N-Dimethyltryptamine also known as DMT)
Breathe in..Breathe out
Suddenly a rushing river of colorful static bounced off my chest
instantly a wounded soul I gasped vigorously
A count down so unfamiliar
I panicked and thrashed unwillingly
but there was nothing to hold on to
I feared it was to late
to deny this life full of fear
to accept I was afraid
Little did I understand
today I was about to see things clear
A violent pulsating thunder clapped loud
on my left the guides voice rang
"It's time to let go now"
on my right a gentle voice sang
"It's alright, breathe slow"
Peace fell on me for I was not alone
so I finally let go
and opened my minds eye
then vanished into the rabbit hole
The room fluttered, pulsated then streaked past me
A billion nuclear bombs inside my right eye
a warm embrace from death in my left
My mind and soul began to stretch
I was staring into a shattered void
A blazing spectacle terrorized with fear
stuttering shivers of a twinkling vortex
Wrapped in a celestial glow
the heavens reflected my thoughts like a mirror
I lost all sense of time
as new energy began to flow
Two alien beings sitting by my side
A vast ocean glow bright with radiant illumination
all thoughts transfigured
Godlike creatures basking in creation
Melting clusters of a constructed lie
mesmerized by the universe light
then life like a new born star
flickers in the imagination and dies
Looking inward, turning inside out
a darkened soul stands in place
The illuminated seed is planted now
but I will never be the same
I land gently inside my body
time to close the circle and pray
Grinning and smiling at my companions
I wave goodbye to the rabbit hole
and see the world with clarity
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 5:24 AM UTC
A person like you should never have to go through what you have
No one deserves it, but especially someone like you.
I talked to you for 15 minutes and by the 8th minute I had tears rolling down my cheeks and my heart pulsated so sharply I thought I could see it through my shirt
God, why.
Mom. Cancer. Rehab. Chain. ******* Smoker.
Depression. Anxiety. Body dysmorphia. God, I am so sorry.
All the cliches in the entire world could not amount to the things I wish I could say to you, and one day make you believe.
All the times you saved me from my worst self, only to realize that while you had saved me, it was your own self that was delving deeper and deeper into its own defeat.
God.
Every time you would come up and give me a hug even when I barely knew you.
When I had no idea what you would mean to me, and how much your life would impact mine.
I am so sorry.
Sorry that your parent's were **** to you. That you didn't get the family you deserve, but made yourself such a strong, completely marvelous person.
I'm not romanticising any of the things you went through because I would never shed a good light on things that caused you so much suffering.
No, that's not it at all.
All the stories you told me tonight seemed too unbearable to be real.
But those stories are your harsh realities and I would trade everything I owned, all the money in my bank account, for you to stop what you do to yourself and the undo the numbness you've trained yourself to feel
you are NOT sad personified
you are NOT just *** appeal and sweet heartbreaker
you even know that my heart breaks, literally I can feel it, when you tell me, show me, paint ******* pictures for me of all the things you've dragged yourself through
I can't pick your feet up and carry you through, though.
God, how I wish I could.
You have to do it on your own, I know you can.
But I just ******* hope you'll follow through in your terrifying, mystifyingly horrible promise of, "Maybe I'll stick around until then"
.
.
.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 11:53 PM UTC
My fingertips will never let me forget the scent of stale cigarettes.
I was a fool in London. All the friends I made had better accents than me.
I dreamed of Bulgaria and Brazil.
I walked through mud. I waited for French tides.
I trudged in heavy water waders.
My hands built a house with stones older than the country on my passport.
The etching of cement on my boots still reminds me what we carried there.
We drove along tired volcanoes and craggy cliffs in the dark.
I never learned how to drive manual.
We flew further south. I dried out in the sun.
The glands of Spanish streets pulsated
citrus mist into the air, my lungs.
I never did remember the difference between limon and lime.
We stayed in a haunted castel but missed Halloween.
The upper peninsula, where Napoleon dreamed of a better dinner.
We moved to Shangri-La. Even in Eden, people still snore.
But there were cakes laced with flowers. And I was over the moon.
Then, a dreamscape. The closest to the Arctic I’ve ever been.
We ate deer for dinner. I baked Danish pies. I slept supine in a smoke-filled yurt. It was all peace. It was all over.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 3:49 PM UTC
So we made love and flew up into the sky
Where the clouds caressed our shimmering bodies and the stars welcomed us home.
There we stayed, resting...
In silent ecstasy as the universe pulsated with the heartbeat of every soul
Not a sound was heard
As celestial bodies moved in silent ancient accord...
"It is time," We said... at long last
"To return to that place from long ago
Where all is not as it should be
Where confusion holds
And fear abides."
"We must return there,
To walk amongst those who would know the truth
And tell them of the beauty behind the veil."
Feb 19, 2023
Feb 19, 2023 at 12:25 PM UTC
"No!" - He protested
Yes, he had said that she was like lightning,
but he meant that she startled him
with her randomness
and thunder,
and not that she pulsated
writing a spiderweb
into the nights sky;
it was that she filled him with a certain
nervousness...
and no, that nervousness was not
like an electricity.
And while the argument continued
it was brought up that he had also compared her to a storm.
It wasn't because she climbed with a certain
inexorable quality
like the tides
or that she was the perfect mix
of calm pretense
and wuthering looks.
It was more because she reminded him of the rains
lightly dancing on his bedroom window
making him dream.
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 4:46 PM UTC
Sights disable me by birth
Father as witness to.
Mother to teach A to Z every time
And trying well correcting my sight.
To leave school, after full fill lessons
To change my disable sight, why?
For my sight, present friends and other people,
Of book tonic, medicine plants,
Traditional treatments
And more other onetime roots,
But nothing change my sight,
At last the order coming,
Wear specs.
To run at 1st street
Saw, wore whole shop in saffron coluor,
In glass chamber, stick saffron bindi in all doll's forehead
And saffron specs covered their eyes.
Add verse displayed - buy specs
Get rusted lance free absolutely.
To reached eyes on 2nd street
The shop 'n' carpets are green,
All dolls had beard and turban
In theplank advertising - buy specs
Get sword 'n' a bottle perfume free.
In the 3rd street endered my face
Whole room yellow, front dolls, specs,
Everywhere yellow, display text be yellow,
If buy specs, wonderful wine free.
To the 4th street, move my foot
Whole floor blue like the sea,
At shop, dolls, specs, all are blue
Gospel on display board
Seat on heaven be reserve free, buy specs.
Much crouded in 5th street
From enterence and street , to shop are red
Dolls are spectrum of victims, specs are red
slogan of display plank,
Sharpen wooden spear free,
Under puchased all specs.
And stret boys call worst,
Throw ***** of guilty verse,
And much caper plays
At back, a crying noises
That 2nd street, ask a boy brokenly
Passed away whole street,
In which specs for my sight?
And which colour for specs?
I too distruct and move my leg to 6th street,
From door to everywhere crystal,
And the floor pellucid, on the street no crowd
At the shop no doll and display plank.
When wear crystal specs,to see my own me?
To know my friend, colour of appetite,
Depth of love, greatness of hope in eyes.
I pray, with pulsated heart,
And wait for specs on the 6th street.
==============================C N Kumar.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 1:05 AM UTC
The wave that crashed
my soul
The seashells bedecked in gold
The mess I couldn't erase
with every trace of constellations
pulsated a face
And the day gone black
under a bedsheet
Wine spilled on a cuffling
The longing for drizzle
and rain
The levitation from the
Earth like tripping windowpane
A watchtower showing you home
You are the well I'm crawling
down
( To float in the clearlight )
The alchemy and sigils in stone
A voice that mumbles
in my sound ears when I'm alone.
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 2:12 PM UTC
Few dared to date Medusa,
For they feared being covered with contusions.
Those who did wore a blindfold to hide their eyes,
A blind date with fate and a disguise.
One of the braver men,
Who thought he could apprehend,
Medusa, his name was Trent.
He didn’t last long,
He took his blindfold off,
And like many before him,
He turned to stone and wasn’t heard from again.
Another challenger’s name was Wren,
Like the bird,
Medusa thought that was the strangest name she’d heard.
So, out of spite,
She reached across the table and exposed Wren’s eyes.
He gasped as his skin turned coarse,
Mouth open wider than a horse.
Medusa pushed him over,
Watched as he shattered,
And smiled to herself,
Even though she was lonelier than anyone else.
Medusa didn’t mean to be so cruel,
It was the consequences of her being used.
By a man to do things she didn’t want to do,
Unspeakable and terrible abuse,
She was the only one to lose.
So, she became a viper,
Her gaze became a noose.
Asphyxiation,
Righteous indignation.
She wouldn’t let herself be used again.
Finally, a man named Hunter arrived,
He tightened the blindfold around his eyes.
He sat across from Medusa, the table lit by candlelight,
She blushed, for he was quite a sight.
He reached across the table and shook her hand,
And he asked her if she had any plans.
She was taken aback, her mind rolling off the tracks,
Lost in a flashback, she babbled about tasks she had to do,
None of which was true.
Hunter laughed, a sound so sweet,
It made Medusa nearly fall out of her seat.
Was this the one she had been searching for?
Or was he just another liar?
Authenticity tends to hide,
Just like the scars Medusa had on her thighs.
One of her snakes whispered in her ear,
Advising her to ignore what she wanted to hear.
The snakes only wanted what was best,
But for whom? What was the purpose of their quest?
Hours passed by like comets,
First date turned into many happy moments.
Before Medusa could catch her breath,
Half a year had passed,
And Hunter had asked,
To see Medusa’s face.
She insisted that he didn’t,
But she knew he wouldn’t listen.
He lowered the blindfold,
As teardrops glistened,
Medusa thought she had just lost,
Her heart…
Hunter had heterochromia,
Left eye green, right eye a shimmering blue.
Medusa’s eyes were both red,
That pulsated in blossoming hues.
To both of their surprise,
Hunter didn’t turn to stone.
He captured her lips in a kiss,
Both of them were alone.
Medusa found the one who could see her,
She no longer had to hide.
Hunter loved Medusa,
It made her cry.
The world is filled with hurt people, like Medusa,
Who may push you away and leave you in contusions.
But underneath that deadly gaze,
Is a mountain of pain…
Sep 17, 2025
Sep 17, 2025 at 10:14 PM UTC
She told me once
that she's never
seen a firefly.
Last night, I tried
to catch her one.
The evening breeze
had drawn it close;
silently it
wandered through the
open window.
At first, moonlight
masked its entrance.
The modest torch
it carried had
been overwhelmed
by shades of grey.
It landed on
a tiny leaf,
from vines that crawled
up the walls, and
into my room.
Resting quietly
on its platform,
the dull, green strobe
pulsated, slow
constant rhythm.
I cupped my hands,
extended them,
and gently reached
out toward the
unsuspecting
visitor. It
stayed, motionless.
At that moment,
I knew it was
mine to keep. For
you. For me? I
can't remember.
It had become
my light, my warmth.
All that mattered,
to me it was.
I opened my
cupped hands. Still it
stayed, motionless.
One, two, three, four.
I noticed that
every burst had
become dimmer
than the previous.
It was dying.
*I imagined
it must've tried
hard, gathering
enough courage
to shine brightly
in the darkness,
but a firefly
cannot outshine
the brightest star.*
If I had known.
If I listened,
I would've heard
its humble plea:
*Though my light fades,
let me rest here
in your own warmth.
You don't glow green,
but I see it.
You are shining.
Let me rest here
in your own warmth.*
She told me once
that she's never
seen a firefly.
Tonight, I will
tell her how I
had caught her one,
and what I learned:
*Seek not the weak
light that flickers
in another.
Look inside you.
It burns bright red.*
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 7:01 PM UTC
we came up from the beach at night
the bridge doomed under a sheet of fog- orange glowing.
the bus horned down the hill like a life size slug storming to get me.
i stood up, staggering with fleet and flight. arms up in surrender.
i was told to just sit down;wave them off.
the raccoons kept staring. a thousand pairs of eyes reflecting off my lights.
i ran but the pavement kept on moving.
we were droogs in the night bending backwards and forwards possessed with heaving laughter.
we pulsated under streetlights.
we melted on walls.
we sat in silence as colorful sweat dribbled down our faces.
our eyes rolled back.
the clock struck midnight as we struggled to count our cash
we ventured to the bus stop and waited.
there, a hopeless man kept on pounding his chest; testosterone flying in the air.
i merely took the greens he offered and left.
thanks.
i was late for a meeting on the next corner.
the appointment commenced.
a bump of life swept through us. back in the realm we were again.
the bus driver nodded, pupils as big as dimes.
dooms day.
i need to get off on 6th.
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 2:02 AM UTC
Last night when I came home, I noticed a very delicious
fragrance enveloping me. The jasmine was not in bloom,
so I knew it couldn't be that stealing through window drafts,
and the incense sticks were long extinguished.
Was it Lakshmi? Her divine fragrance perfumes the three
worlds and I sensed an unusual lightness in the atmosphere.
This morning I still detected a unique aroma, though not as pronounced.
I went outside, in the backyard, to let the dog out and observed two orange speckled butterflies dancing near her doghouse. I shooed them away protectively. As I did this, they moved over to another location, but one hovered near my hands.
It fluttered around my hands for a good minute. I was able to hear,
witness and breathe in the amazing oscillation of it's fragile wings.
Gorgeous mosaic patterns glittered between the rays of sunlight bathing
our golden communion. I could clearly see its ebony face peering curiously up at me.
Soon a third butterfly joined the party, and a trinity of sweetness pulsated close. After a while they all took off in different directions.
Later, I reflected while swinging in the garden jhoola how wonderfully connected we all are.
This Unity transcends the mental, emotional and physical barriers, preconceptions and dimensions of our ordinary awareness.
Love has a lot to do with it, respect, peace, truth and right conduct too.
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 11:26 PM UTC
Dawn whispered the break of light
awakening trembling limbs.
Soulful sighs brought by ancient winds
marked the day.
“Its the festival of the trees.” she said
as the Earth dressed me this
morning amongst my forest bed;
and against my colored eyes
she laid the top of the bottom
of the arraying white sea.
Gathering at once body and spirit,
I fell into the greatness of water
bathing amongst the magnanimous.
She brushed my skin with
a soul daffodil full of sun
and kissed my mouth with natures liking.
It was the cosmic hour
of the atomic separation of my body.
It was beautiful.
It was divinity at its source.
She exalted my lungs with her
greenery and my rib her roots.
She anchored her song into my chest.
It pulsated a beat
some what of an effeminate child:
“I am an ancient song.
I sing the ever connecting
vibrations of Universe,
balancing body completely.”
Light sings through the heaven I am made of
and within its gardens of androgynous flower kings.
I have witnessed with sound and mind the crying of the Earth;
and the Earth cries her wonderful cries
to know how many lives she has lived
and where she still stands.
She sang to me the first sound of her body
and how nobody knows that the skies
are really at war with the seas,
and how the stars with their poetic
visions really see eyes in threes.
But this is just my rhyme alone.
The sun landed upon her *****
night became of me from the mountains
where the moon and her lovely phases
flowered upon my breast
ravishing wild torrents of femininity
into the silver cosmic rivers.
You see, I am an ancient song.
I sing the ever connecting
vibrations of Universe,
balancing body completely.
This is me in my natural state,
whole and feminine.
-Arizona
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 8:00 AM UTC
She waited eagerly for the
wrapper to fall off, and then
it was slowly inserted pleasurably
it was taken back.
Moaning in sugary ecstasy she
breathed heavier as she gorged on it.
All that was seen was the stick and
her lips seeped sugary delight.
She pulsated with eagerness as it
was ****** deeper within and then
playfully edged around her damp lips,
she was fulfilled and the stick clean.
"Now here is a thought that itches at the brain,
"Which lips did she devour this lollipop in,
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 10:35 AM UTC
The cracks appeared but
they were not like those
that you see as you walk
a pavement, chasing the
gaps that parted, each
cemented slab,
they were more like
shattered pieces of glass
that formed on a marble
floor as you threw down
the champagne flute
hurt, angered
passion rearing its head
a mixture of pleasure
and pain
relieving the numbness -
the pleasure
reliving the past -
the pain
Lipstick marked partial
pieces of glass, matching
the blood that began to
seep from her hand as
she collated the pieces
scarring the floor
droplets fell, she brought
her palm to the side
taking up the blood
into her parted lips
loosely letting go of
any glass in
the palm
of her
hand
On her knees she lifted
her body
slowly
he took his Prada shoe
kicking her
a blow to the stomach
knocking her
to the floor below
she missed the glass
table
by mere inches
saving her head from
a similar blow
As he walked
away,
he flicked his cigar
unfinished, on her
barely clothed body
and from a distance
spat and cursed in
his mother tongue
"Puttana!"
"Ti disprezzo!"
She kept her head down
her hair knotted in
the smashed glass,
picking the stem of the
hollow flute, she
threw it
flying through the air
hitting him,
to the shin
*"Son of a *****
The words, pulsated
through the air
bouncing off all four
walls,
she held no regrets
she had become accustomed
to the repercussions of her
own counter attacks
she didn't even quiver
They had fallen
convicted criminals
of passion and pain
numbness
reality a daze
blood and fire
alight
Neither left the room
until the following
morning
whiskey bottles emptied
clothes disarrayed
blood on the walls
In this fight between
passion and pain
neither would leave,
abandon this disrupted
****** up ship
"Stay!"
the only word she
would murmur
when all was
said,
and done.
© Sia Jane
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 9:53 PM UTC
Deep flames of inner ecstasy
throbbed
and murmured
as I chewed out my own tongue.
A steady beat of gurgling blood
pulsated in my head,
inciting such glorious vibrations
I reached
deep in my ears
and ripped the sound away.
Silently laughing voiceless promises,
streams of brilliant crimson
poured downwards.
The rich trails of red
filled my eyes
with blinding euphoria and,
unable to cease,
my dripping hands
pried out
those glittering orbs.
Warm spatters of blood
escaped through the gaping sockets
soaking skin in waves of delight.
Too much.
Quivering with pleasure I
threw myself
to the flames.
Burning nerves splendidly erupt
into smoke.
At last,
the charred traces of my smoldering flesh
rose elegantly
to my nose.
At last,
I felt the world disintegrate
back into black.
As the final senses burned away,
tears trickled from vacant sockets.
Oh god,
this is love.
Aug 11, 2011
Aug 11, 2011 at 4:38 PM UTC
She pulled out my heart.
She kept it warm and beating.
She smiled and I smiled back
My heart pulsated in her hand....
*She stopped....
Took a look at my beating heart...
She smiled as she threw it too the floor
Stomping on it, till it was broken*
Leaving me.
Alone....
Again
Jan 15, 2017
Jan 15, 2017 at 5:18 AM UTC
As I turned to a familiar canine eared mark,
a sense of warmth stifled my breathing.
The skin on my thumbs became raw
Pulsated with the beat of my heart,
While rubbing against the worn paper.
The raised ink of each letter
Smoothed out softly
Underneath the pressure of my fingers.
The smell of old rain clinging to the dying foliage:
Intoxication.
The sounding of thunder drew my senses to attention.
Hairs and synapses standing, saluting at the ready all in neat formation
Memories and narrative flooded my mind with delusions of love, anger, and sorrow;
As only it could.
Aug 18, 2011
Aug 18, 2011 at 3:05 AM UTC
Yesterday
Was in the ecstasy
Of realizing that
We were
Those two
On earth
Who liked bitter gourd curry
Cooked with coconut milk ….
Remember?
Think it was
In the sixth life.
We were
Two nascent bitter gourds
On the pandal
Spread in the northern corner
Of the farmland
Belonging to a grandmother
In a village in Mississippi
Who used to attend to the orchards
Sitting in a wheelchair.
We had
Watched earth
And peeked
At the sky
Hanging from the same stalk
The scar left
From your tight clasp on my thigh
Scared
After spotting a double tailed pest
Is still there.
The pleasure of that pain
Makes me tearful now.
I am like the faces
In a death house
Sobbing
At times
Bursting into tears
The next moment
Holding back
After a while.
Sometimes
I am all the faces
Of a death house
Tears have
Nothing to do with them.
Sometimes
A marriage house
Will laugh and laugh
Till its cheeks hurt.
Just like you.
My dear bitter gourd,
When will we
Go back to that
Pandal in Mississippi
Where we had pulsated
From a single stalk.
Aren’t we the ones
To offer obsequies
To that grandmother
Who looked after us
With pots
of wholehearted love.
Translator - Shyma P
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 9:44 PM UTC