"seethes" poems
unto thee i
burn incense
the bowl crackles
upon the gloom arise purple pencils
fluent spires of fragrance
the bowl
seethes
a flutter of stars
a turbulence of forms
delightful with indefinable flowering,
the air is
deep with desirable flowers
i think
thou lovest incense
for in the ambiguous faint aspirings
the indolent frail ascensions,
of thy smile rises the immaculate
sorrow
of thy low
hair flutter the level litanies
unto thee i burn
incense,over the dim smoke
straining my lips are vague with
ecstasy my palpitating ******* inhale the
slow
supple
flower
of thy beauty,my heart discovers thee
unto
whom i
burn
olbanum
16.6k
From the green hill, blows downwards
a wind, gently titillating the languid trees
of this dense forest,the rustling of the leaves create,
an impromptu tune, proving they are taut strings,
yielding willingly to the sensual fingers of the wind.
Super moon,while raising, listens keenly awhile
as if she had never heard one like this before.
The wise silver owl, sitting on the high branch
keeping account of every stroke of night,with an imaginary wand,
as the conductor, catches the emerging mood that seethes
within the million pieces of orchestra that gently merge,
get exhilarated, finds a pause to punctuate it with a timely hoot,
the moment freezes, falls in to the repository of time for keeps.
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 12:39 PM UTC
sometime I feel so much
rage inside of me
deep seated anger seethes
usually lying dormant till
it's called out
no matter how spiritual I get
I haven't been able to befriend
my anger
anger boils to rage
and I want to take it out on
the people closest to me
the wheel of suffering turns
and I feel so powerless
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 6:30 AM UTC
there is a buzzing
it's coming from the walls
the tiny electrical snaps and synapses
the mindhive that seethes
the radios and beeping pulses
we have reached the
singularity.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 3:12 AM UTC
planted seed; they let it grow
through much defeat, it’s never known
a smile's disguise seethes bated breath
my sole escape be only death
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 4:19 PM UTC
Lamp light
Dappled, it dances
Like my hands
Over skin.
Into dimples it soars
As I work to erase lost time.
His back seethes
It is the harbour
It is the well
It is the safe,
Where his darkness
Comes to lie.
I traverse
Slowly, gently
Fingers slide and grind
He sighs.
I see our worlds diverge and then
Collide.
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 4:11 AM UTC
Sprinkling crystals dipped in glass
ray of prisms breeze my eye
sunshine rhythms hide in grass
floating sugar on the pie
Neon lights pass to scroll
while purple midnight breathes
jacket goosebumps stockings stole
four-wheeled lion grumbly seethes
Honey nectar slumbers my eyes
whitewashed lace tangle my face
gentle buzzings of pastel sky
as cotton candy sank with grace
Open heart box standing in the rain
cries diamonds for to call her name
the poetry train caught riding to Spain
set carnival dewdrops on red flames
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 10:07 AM UTC
in ashes hidden, smoulders god of love
from matted dancer's focus conflagration purely come
continues still perhaps in empty homage
of a sa ta na ma
personage of ((Shiva))
white bones pierce the sky
in upward curtain-seethes of heat
beyond imagined burning hells...
the triad ventures into zero-zones of anti-life,
sands of absolute defeat.
shadow trust imparts
a silent teacher's mantras;
soothing psychic words,
"Bala" and "Adi-Bala"
carry over dunes of morbid thirst--
the gape of ancient serpent-maws
choking dust of frightened, elephantine skeletons
fissured by immobile sun--
their inner sound become cool water of a summer stream
in timeless desert, traverses strain of royal line:
god-fated tutelage of seedling savior,
lightning skill with bow and virtue sinew
shining arms horizon's arid form:
despite begrudging honor kings expect
when offspring given after years
in hard-earned sacrificial grace:
yet still obeisance ends in facing demonaic rage
to which is pitted youth to slay--
despite allay by symbol feminine,
as if to question her abode would conjure her
in dire storm and quake announce gigantic step and hairy gulf--
with arrow sprays destroy Thataka's trident, curdling throat
the slitting of, rejoicing pantheon proclaims heroic,
forever railing under epic breath of tacit page theodical:
"we gave you progeny, now grant us our theocracy;
before your son our asthras lay their weaponry"
.
Aug 12, 2012
Aug 12, 2012 at 5:03 PM UTC
.
Cloak of invisibility...
*Render me unseen.
As I tremble with the fury of
a thousand downfalls
and untimely disappointments.
Let the complacent eye
merely skim the surface of my masquerade...
Without learning of what seethes underneath.*
Cloak of invincibility...
*Render me impervious...
To the callous digits that know only to point.
To the disastrous effect of heated words.
To the unforgiving nature of
my wayward thoughts and emotions.
Grant me strength and resilience
through hardened skin that promises not,
of betrayal.*
Cloak of infallibility...
*Render me trustworthy and honest.
So that I can rest with the knowledge
that what I feel is true...
What I feel is me.
That this isn't the result of the faint murmur
of errant gossip...
But instead the genuine exchanges
between the heart and mind.*
Cloak of myth...
*Render me a believer.
Aid me in finding my footing
in the blasted dark.
For...
I have been siphoned dry,
during these unsure times
that have drawn much...
Too much.*
.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC
Night falls upon the sleepless one,
who stares deep into the void.
He cannot yet be overrun,
He shall not be destroyed.
On the precipice of the blank,
He has lost all hope.
The riverside with either bank,
But while on land he cannot cope,
And so the water engulfs him,
He is drowned but still he breathes.
Light without him is now fading,
But within him it still seethes.
Destruction lies upon the sleepless mind,
Until it pounces on the light, resigned.
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 8:38 PM UTC
Strumming the untuned strings, he stares drunkenly into the setting sun of yesteryears songs, sung of lost dreams and the birthed ambitions of the dark, dark days to be.
Happily, he tears up in the fortunate tragedies, of the reclamation in his dreams, as he seethes out the damnation of his steeds, galloping gallantly through his being.
All seeing, in the finite fleeting when he sings, of strummed dreams to the rhythms of heart beats lost, embossed on the epitaphs of kings.
Sad songs of dreams once had.
Be glad for that, which does not **** you, only to bestow upon you, the gratitude of the weirding ways, in passionate display for us all to play nice.
Shake these dice and jump aboard this bus of wandering poetry, from the porches of poets singing to the sun.
From the morning Moet, to the afternoon beer run.
we sing of dreams
of better things
we blaspheme
and spin the scenes
of our murdered dreams
and just clean the guilt away
I am so awesome as to be devoid of fault.
I am a god that cracks the asphalt.
I am the angel signing the clause, of deserved harm.
I am the indentured servant sounding the alarm, with the charm of a Trojan horse, forced to adhere to the most righteous path.
The first
The last
Laugh of inevitability
Honing in on the ability to capture the longevity of dream warriors, in the lock of predators, in the employ of a senator, from the center of the heart, to impart on you the fear from thieves caught in the plight of those fraught with the graces of an exterminator, exterminating the pro-creators of your world. Soldiers unraveled in the lavished gavels of real criminals drowning in their own subliminal theories of the self imposed heresies of intention.
Free will
A fragile blessing
I cracked, all so long ago, as i gently bestow my belligerence upon your innocence and **** it all away.
I'm the ******* son
Strumming for the only one.
Once.
Before the lore of the storm.
Born of the swoon of a gun.
More than one.
Once.
As the day faded into night, his strumming turned plucking, as he slightly eased from reprise to silence, in the whisper of nights words, easing him into the blur, of sleep.
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 3:46 PM UTC
I miss
the forest of
your magic
as it winds its
tattooed way
through the
serrated textures
of nightfall
all up inside
my vertebrae
the soft wind
rustling in your
elms,
outstretched to me
like arms
as stars burn through
this brewing sky
in molten,
fiery charms
They beckon to me
unexpected
in quiet
apertures of subtle
they sneak upon me,
unprotected,
when I'm sunken
in my tunnel
and sometimes
in the
quiet stream
of the lonely, sacred night
I hear a whisper
whirring soft
as it permeates
my spine
I let it take me over
as I sit,
slumped,
in the bath
it creeps and seethes
over my wet skin
eats out my silent wrath
I let it
fill my senses
as I walk inside
the deep
and on wooded paths
of solitude's carpet of leaves
when I feel
no soul is watching
the deer start shyly peeking,
and lynx resume their stalking
then long slashes
of ache
are reawakened
from their lair
snaking through my ribcage
choking up my hollowed air
yet, somehow
in the longing
of bottomless, falling space
I see in distant, faded visions:
the precious contours
of your face
and so,
like an enchanted
secret box
I open you,
inhale the confetti
of your floating stars
wave them over and through
my strands of vein,
my tripped out,
healing scars
your essence
penetrates
my presence
like misty mountain rains
seeps inside my pores
opens up
striations
of seismic,
writhing pain
Your invisibility
takes form
and then
in sudden,
whipped-up heat
it pours out in
honeyed rhythm
to our own
invisible beat
and just like that
I get taken.
Overcome
by slakes of love
rushing through my
arteries
like sweet
manna
from
above
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 5:58 PM UTC
there is a wrestle going on inside of me
an epic match
nAch vs nAff
**At one end “Duty”-the undefeated ruling champion
And at the other end
“Desire”-a strong contender for the title**
Come and watch this fight to the death!
get out the fizz and popcorn
join the fun!
see me oscillate-between one and the other
i’m like an old grandfather clock
can’t decide
this lunacy is felt
in my deepest self, my core
stretched so far I’m torn apart
every limb every pore seethes in the anticipation
of the win
my mind bounces off the walls
I wonder what the point is at all-
someday this will end in a drunken brawl.
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
07.09.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 12:19 PM UTC
*
*
~
I trust yet I'm suspicious
I love yet I'm hateful
I laugh loud but I cry
I observe, I'm not blind
I try so hard by confidence
shakes
Try harder, esteem breaks
I stand strong with laughter
aimed
Locked deep, my ferno rage
I clam up
Guards up
Shields up
Inside, the shards of my bones
break
Laughter to me is a sword
with two faces
I see the argent lighthearted face,
but my eye is locked on its
shadowed edge
Malicious, cruel, sharp and swift
Sheathed ever so deep into my heart
I can hear the echoes more than feeling the pain
I pick so blindly at an open wound
My mind is a riot, a murked brew
of emotions
Time will heal the wounds,
but it's a scar I'll always remember
Anger screams
Sadness cries
Frustation seethes
A joke, am I?
The sun is dead
Blocked out by echoes
Ink
So disoriented
Heart pulses
I cannot think...
~
*
*
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 12:47 PM UTC
The spider, in many hues rules.
But I never could understand
The complete operational rules.
Still I have
Unflinching faith,like no other
On the spider, that it knows
The rules of transactions inside out.
I am in the web of a clan of
Spiders, day in and day out.
I just lie supine in comfort
And let my song bird fly high
In the sky blue oblivion
Of my mind, listening to
The singing of the bard of
The absolute, transcending limits.
I am more and more lured
in to his cave where light is present
By its physical absence.More and more
An innerbeing after substence
In the company of this siver luminous.
She comes alive, fire risen from smoke,
Her red hot eyes capture my truth quick!
The spider sitting on top of me
And working on me with
Her oceanic mind that seethes
Agile vaginal muscles, I picture
Is still reading "Every Women"1
From memory; I just feel it
as each of the steps to the
thousand petelled lotus is
left behind one by one.
My silver spider
who flies with me from
the conjoined base of
"Mooladhara"2 at the ****
If she is the fire, I am the sky.
Hear the silver bell she rings,
In mind's eye I see how her
Silver strips gleam, wet with sweat.
As we step out to the garden path
The green spiders of thick foliages
Waved at us.Golden spider of the sky
Hanging low beamed at us.
Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 3:57 AM UTC
There is no peace at all for the wicked.
Stinging, ruthless words that pierce through mind and heart
Swiftly, precisely, from lips of clay depart
Arrowheads dipped in green poison find their way
To an unwary target, without delay.
There is no peace at all for the wicked.
The tongue is a sinister, crushing weapon
Who dares resurrect one fatally bludgeoned?
“He deserves my verdict!” Rage seethes in defense.
“He smashed my fortress with the least reverence.”
He is without excuse.
Yet the comely victim-prince says, “Follow me…”
He with the sad, compelling eyes
And nail-scarred hands offered gently, steadily
To a soul vanquished by frantic, chaotic “I”
He whose dazzling raiments from the throne hang
unused
Willfully submits to slight, beating, abuse
As leather sandals cushion dusty, wounded feet
He weeps; Fallen creatures smite head and side–they bleed.
Still the comely victim-prince says, “Follow me…”
Now, therefore, beyond excuse,
Man is guilty.
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 4:45 AM UTC
Tree, Old Tree of the Triple Crook
And the rope of the Black Election,
'Tis the faith of the Fool that a race you rule
Can never achieve perfection:
So 'It's O, for the time of the new Sublime
And the better than human way,
When the Rat (poor beast) shall come to his own
And the Wolf shall have his day!'
For Tree, Old Tree of the Triple Beam
And the power of provocation,
You have cockered the Brute with your dreadful fruit
Till your fruit is mere stupration:
And 'It's how should we rise to be pure and wise,
And how can we choose but fall,
So long as the Hangman makes us dread,
And the Noose floats free for all?'
So Tree, Old Tree of the Triple Coign
And the trick there's no recalling,
They will haggle and hew till they hack you through
And at last they lay you sprawling:
When 'Hey! for the hour of the race in flower
And the long good-bye to sin!'
And for the lack the fires of Hell gone out
Of the fuel to keep them in!'
But Tree, Old Tree of the Triple Bough
And the ghastly Dreams that tend you,
Your growth began with the life of Man,
And only his death can end you.
They may tug in line at your hempen twine,
They may flourish with axe and saw;
But your taproot drinks of the Sacred Springs
In the living rock of Law.
And Tree, Old Tree of the Triple Fork,
When the spent sun reels and blunders
Down a welkin lit with the flare of the Pit
As it seethes in spate and thunders,
Stern on the glare of the tortured air
Your lines august shall gloom,
And your master-beam be the last thing whelmed
In the ruining roar of Doom.
1.5k
it loomed like a ghost in the falling day.
an hour past the town on the way
the old man's eyes bore surprise
*i wouldn't advise it, sir, not wise
waking them up is no sport
they who're sleeping in the dead men's fort.*
All along i've been a phasmophobic
they ceased never to rule my head
lurking in nooks and under my bed.
it sounds nice to talk about spirits and souls
but at nights when hollows of burning coals
mistily appear and not in a dream
choke me out of scream
to that terror i fall an abject slave.
but my companion on that dusk was brave
looking at those eerily towering spires
he said let's try meeting a few vampires.
there was no door opening with a creak
but inside was a musty dark hole
where daylight made a quick retreat
as if to let the dead peacefully stroll.
we climbed up stairs strewn with dry leaves
amid sensing a storm brewing on the wing
for the awakened dead in anger seethes
to have their rest broken by the living.
soon swept us a gale of the squeaking dead
driving us out of that well occupied well
surely startled by the intruders' raid
the winged vampires were fleeing like hell.
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 9:10 AM UTC
Death is dreadful
hides in shadows
seethes and battles
grim the night
Beth is bedful
rides in saddles
breathes and prattles
trim and tight
©2013 Lyn
Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 10:48 AM UTC
a voltage feeds my mind
like that of a brief rainfall
where there is an asterisks
of insignificant social commentary
whose reality pertains
to disproportionate events
whose commission
makes a profession out of trivia
which is no more ******* durable
than accumulated dispersion of adrenalin
that of a psychophysical explorative
exploitation of unrealized
perpetual fermentation
that seethes with the singeing smell
that accompanies its lie
those demanding untruths
that lock each and everyone
in a burning prison of panic
a prism of unfocused
visionary liberation perhaps to some
the realization of the cosmos
that lives within the poets interior
a mighty roar of space
waiting to be filled
with visions of future worlds
of future social commentary
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 2:54 PM UTC
Red is the color of anger
That burns and boils and bubbles
It seethes and seems to soak into beauty
It is cold and fierce and fiery
And ironically
red is the color of love
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 10:06 PM UTC
I am the thoughts that you want, I am the vibes that you crave
I am the truth that you flaunt, I am the lies that you make
I am the death that you fear, I am life with it's fakes
I am the breath that you breathe, I am the visions you need.
She steeps deep in my eyes, my soul is lost in her
She tells me that's okay, baby just do what you can
You are the drive in my dreams, you are the wetness it brings
You are the pleasure I want, you are the life that I seek.
I am not your love, I am the darkness inside
I am the fight for your life, I am the truth you despise
I am the crackle that breaks, I am the scars on your face
I am the anger that seethes, I am the secrets you keep.
She shuts my eyes, her soul is lost in me
She tells me thats okay, baby do as you please
You are the love that I need, You are the weakness in me
You are the past without pain, You are the curse in my veins.
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 6:19 PM UTC
There is a place I keep for me
where others cannot go
It's hidden deep within my heart
behind a soulless glow.
The skies are always cornflower blue
while all the trees in bloom
drop blossoms pink as candy floss
to chase away the gloom.
Beneath the sea of stolen cares
a darkness seethes and roars
a warning cry to he who dares
set foot upon it's shores.
There is a place I keep for me
a darkness deep and true
I keep it safe and hide it well
Beneath it's pretty view.
Jan 18, 2018
Jan 18, 2018 at 5:54 PM UTC