"snivels" poems
I’ve never become low on my graveside attendance,
Victim , victim they call me, the moments I’ve been facing are abysmal,
Your voice, mellifluous, makes my world lucid, just like a blissful carnival
You fade away, so far away, in the shades of grey,
These black petals, merely dead, have witnessed a fray
Victim, an element of my soul, enshrouded in a stack of mud, in a desolated place,
My roots are too feeble to read that case
A fragmented mind, my hampered cognition, pictures you in the pleasing attires,
All I know are just my futile desires
Victim, they call me, when I visit your house, and grab those dispersed roses
A few letters garnished, just to seize my reaction,
Almighty has deceived me with his bitter, yet innocent abduction
Your warm breath, ventures me, like a spellbound,
Snivels, ****** tears, soaked up in the soil, I tend to hound
Victim, I’m a victim of my encapsulated love,
A victim of irrational fears, fallible against my taken vows
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 4:56 AM UTC
At night, lavender seeps into the room with it's hypnotizing scent to formulate the words.
But loose lips attract the honeybees
divvying up the compassion that we might see.
And petunias may have costly fees
that you and I cannot foresee.
Do staple this poem onto that wall you put up,
so long ago I've noticed I might add,
and maybe use it as blackmail against my future self.
Know that I tried but failed,
and that truth, freedom, beauty and love cannot stomach the pressure
of being the right
words between you and I.
So to Tortuga,
I will say.
to Tortuga!
The place we belong
among the snivels and the ******** and many more.
Where sand granules snakes through the straw-like hair
to fly and be no more and some more among the stars.
We can connect the stars with imaginary lines
and I will draw you a spider with hairy eyes
and you paint me a fish with silky fins
in the dotted blue colored sky.
Blow me another purple smoke ring
from this lovely pipe of hooka,
pour me another glass of this tantalizing elixir,
and we shall forevermore be the ones we always were
you and I, nevermore.
Jan 12, 2012
Jan 12, 2012 at 7:56 PM UTC
The Inferno devours the infant,
Blaze towering the callousness,
The envelope of Innocence innate within,
Collapses under the Wrath of Hell.
The Son of the Divines fails to rise,
Wobbly and tiny are his limbs,
All alone in the cruel world,
His snivels muffled, by the Hands beneath.
Years into the Netherworld,
The Phoenix reduced to gruesome ashes,
Screaming scars donning the lad,
Made him stronger in spite the cracks.
It was time for the Sun to burn again,
For the ten steps of Hell would be torn apart,
The Bloom of the Phoenix from the ashes burnt,
Would quench the Blaze and obliterate the lust.
And so did the Phoenix rise,
Darker than Satan, yet brighter than The Light.
Breaking hell loose on Hell itself,
Wrecking the cages of the Living Dead.
He spread his wings, embraced the warmth
Born of The Light, raised by The Dark
But as time passed, people forgot,
The Legend of The Dark Phoenix.
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 2:15 PM UTC