"somnambulist" poems
You are the brainteaser for what all the intellectuals have become somnambulist
Still you are inconclusive;
All the linguists have become asinine
Since the language of your eyes are indecipherable
Every single iota of your heart is a nuclear
And all men are in love with nuclear
When they burst, burst in silent
You are the only cloud
that brings rain in the heart
For you all sins seem Romantic
And all catastrophes are Dramatic
All lovers watch, and remain as a sparrow alone upon the house top.
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 10:26 PM UTC
Aquiver mellifluous ineffable hiraeth nefarious somnambulist epoch sonorous serendipitous limerence bombinate luminescence ethereal illicit petrichor iridescent supine aurora solitude syzygy phosphenes oblivion ephemeral incandescence denouement vellichor eloquence defenestration Sondra effervescence cromulent cellar-door debridement
Illustrator icon verdant cerulean aeneous albicant amaranthine azuline argent chartreuse damask ferruginous haematic hyacinthine ibis ochre primrose russet sanguineous virescent mystborn transcendence
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 10:31 AM UTC
*Behind the gauzy veil of dreams in early morning mist
I'm held by the shadows 'neath the moon, a dark somnambulist.
I strive to awaken and arise, yet it eludes my demands.
Like faith that leaves beleaguered souls adrift in shifting sands.
What do the shadows want with me in realms of weary dreams?
My brain draws near but my body is paralyzed, it seems.
Am I a treasure of a sweet caress? Or my light like a lover's kiss?
Is loneliness their punishment or is it more than this?
I relax and try to rise. The dream will not subside.
Specters hold me down inside spreading panic in my mind.
And so I go adrift again. In faith I hold on and on.
I'll find my way back into zen with the breaking of the dawn.*
Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 12:25 AM UTC
sleep walking through you
dead brain with a hard ****
a man
all pretense
hiding behind your skirt
who hurt you like a cold razor bleeding
and who was hurt by you
like a bullet in the chest
your charms killer ray guns
making me collapse from the inside out
like a house in flames
screaming
left out of your dreams
oh dread
an empty shroud
with a charred mouth
who twisted your heart out
a man with a winter corpse for a soul
short ***** and dead tree eyes
who ravaged your bones
and ate your marrow with belligerence
crushing your fragrant garden
my feet pebbles and stones
trampling your bed
while you sped by me
in your new man's muscle car
sneering
you
a laughing hot *****
wearing cold silver sunglasses
and flaming lips
that ***** hearts
blacktop down
in a red fast car
like a rocket with fat Dunlap's
spewing
mud in my mouth
like me
he looked at other women endlessly
like rows of sprinkled cupcakes
for the eating
loving their form
imagining their slick glide
and wet kisses
insulting your tenderness
so you would believe in nothing
until you where an endless black pit
until i found out i needed you
and it was to late for us
your absence a lesson
that your presence could never teach
like snow in the summer
in youth, i was a deadbeat
somnambulist
struggling with angels and hellions
tedium and desire
i feel
remorse for all i have done
and did not understand
only now dusted white am i ready to love you
so please come to me
and we shall make a home
of this tortured cage
and turn it to
heavens tremulous kiss
i have finally learned my lesson
have you ?
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 12:32 PM UTC
*Mist told me in her vaporous touch
"Let me dress you in my fine muslin clothes,
though you may find it a cold comfort
my love will endure till sun drives me away"
And sun, strode in donning his warm golden gown,
splashing his sunny voice, he announces,
"Purple, red, golden yellow, as time moves,
choices you have, folks, till i go back with my stock,
mine are silk, the purest for you to luxuriate
unlike with others, my love for planet earth,
is something never fully told, whoever does it "
Ah, then comes the lady clad in sensual black,
with her one powerful color that makes,
none stand out in the line, all are equal in her bed,
dress she gives you have to accept,no choice there,
somnambulist deem it a privilege wearing it,
those ones that vanish, seek out her winged dress.*
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 10:57 AM UTC
The sleet is drawing boxes 'round
our mud-and-snow sashed towns.
We'll check 'em off
with crunching footsteps,
slash our gallows grins through static
weather. Nervous laughter fights off winter
while somnambulist nights
hold the anthill days at bay.
And each repeated conversation
coats a thrumming undercurrent
echoed by the groaning rivers
in their arthritic fatigue.
where the ice piles up
like car wrecks.
And, out of those disastrous angles,
jumps up and trips back down.
Blinking eyelids, right then left.
Sunrises. Sunsets.
Dusks and dawns in places familiar
wading through liminal space.
Circles darkened. Footprints filled in.
The heat just circles lazily.
Our flushed and clammy brows
will **** askance
and sweat while footsteps
melt our swaying way through boiling
sidewalks. Nervous laughter dulls the impact
of seared, rapid fire nights.
"Ha." "Ha." Shrug off another.
And all repeated reminiscence
does is hamstring overthinking
of the closing jaws of traps
in these rusting western towns.
where winds breathe dust
by mouthfuls
So, into our familiar mishaps,
***** up and falls back down
melting into neighborhoods
dress down, upbraid us.
'Til our feet do not walk circles
'round these wilting Western towns.
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 6:09 PM UTC
1:AM hail run
somnambulist suburbs coo
with ice on wind chimes
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 2:22 AM UTC
**Sometimes I sleep so **** long
The fabric of my dreams rots around me**
And im left lying on a cold unforgiving slab of reality.
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 2:47 PM UTC
The abysm of the unbodied Infinite;
A fathomless zero occupied the world.
A power of fallen boundless self awake
Between the first and the last Nothingness,
Recalling the tenebrous womb from which it came,
Turned from the insoluble mystery of birth
And the tardy process of mortality
And longed to reach its end in vacant Nought.
As in a dark beginning of all things,
A mute featureless semblance of the Unknown
Repeating for ever the unconscious act,
Prolonging for ever the unseeing will,
Cradled the cosmic drowse of ignorant Force
Whose moved creative slumber kindles the suns
And carries our lives in its somnambulist whirl.
--By Sri Auro,Book I,Canto I
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 8:14 AM UTC
Every somnambulist must find alone, a thorny path-
through, encircling hedges of dark night and gloom;
between dreams and reality's abyss, mine has a beacon,
with my eyes wide shut, I walk toYou, my only flame!
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 10:32 PM UTC
When sleep deserted me
I crawled out of my bed unseen
To delve into the crevices of the dark
With the curiosity of an explorer
And the near comatose of a somnambulist
I walked up and down the steep slopes of the night
Like a night watchman
Without a lantern in his hand
When my legs grew weary
I sat on a rock
Covered with moss and lichen
Staring at the dark night sky
With no constellation of fireflies
Flashing their torches anywhere
Sitting there, I listened to the song of night birds,
The rustle of leaves,
The howl of wolves,
And the night wind’s rave
Looking into the dark pockets of the night,
I thought of human mind, a deep gorge
With many an uninhabitable corner
Where serpent desires lie coiled
Scorpions crawl with toxic pincers
Predators roam to prey upon helpless victims
The mystery of the night absorbed me
Her muffled sounds, her dark beauty
Her elusive charm, like thick night fog,
Percolated deep into my consciousness
And I floundered in a fathomless sea,
Swirling in her eddies and currents.
It whisked me away to lands far…far!
But on being washed ashore,
I was in a creative delirium
I am now in No Man’s Land
Where everything is in a coma of stillness
Where no light glimmers
No door ajar
And no one in sight!
Here the poet in me breaks open
The somnambulist's comatose
And down way flow my thoughts in indelible ink
Which only I can read
Like a night bird
Roosting among the branches of a tree
I sing of my heart aches,
Of my yearnings and longings
In the barely audible whispers of the night,
My song reverberates in the eyeless abyss down,
And the dark desolate valleys below
People say, ghosts walk the earth at night.
Oh! I am not scared!
I am not eager for the dawn to break,
Nor want to put my pen down!
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 6:14 AM UTC
Many days I spent running after somnambulist shadows
Which sometimes seems as closer as my heart.
And it sometimes looks stumper and hoax.
The word of thy mysterious gazing at me.
Many times I went to you to ask for.
But I was failed and knee to your stubborn.
Your adamant makes me afar infinite miles from you.
Everything what you have seems ruth to me –
And that ousted me from your heart forever.
Thousand more times I tried to disclose
The meaning of my amorous feelings for you.
Thousand more times I kissed you through the wind.
I don’t know those are reached at you or not.
I feel you always and all time –
When the blue stars shiver in the distance sky.
When the mid-night wind sings around.
In middle of the night of Spring when leafs fall down.
I can hear your delicate voice always and everywhere.
Though I know in my heart, you’re no longer.
I forgot the Class, Society, Religion, Country and Community.
And I made a drastic mistake.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 6:55 AM UTC
I don't eat no beef
No **** no lamb no swine
Only on the verdurous etch
Doest I within my thine I dine
I don't eat Jellie and sauces slick with ill
Confounded with animal ****
Nor powders and honeys dripping and grime
Spent with the wretch of genocide's time
I don't hunt for game or trophy ****
I don't glorify **** or bile or swill
I don't bow to the customs and conventions of now
Now matter what serve of the demonic a sow
I don't **** my brother or sister for food
It's not blood on my hands that's reddened and hued
So why take the life of an innocent babe?
An animal born here of terrestrial habe?
What for the taste of delicious a flesh?
To accompany sauce Cantonese wan szech?
Or is it to sate gastronomy?
That bloodies the hands of you and me?
That forces the carnivore?
To act the ****** *****
And ***** an animal innocent and bright
Is this self deified act requite?
What do you proclaim to be?
To ****** an animal's right to be?
A god with insight and power so great?
To forsake your right to heaven with hate?
Or a devil or demon anon?
To justify your sleepy murderous throng?
Or merely a human who follows the lead?
Of our common culture's bane banal creed?
So what is it that drives you to the deed exact?
To cut the throat of creatures in act?
Are you saying that murders ok?
And you'd enact this upon your own whether or may?
If you could knock or whack a human for merely the taste of its flesh?
And not because their discord did not mesh?
With your idea of what justifies life?
And end a being forever of strife?
Is it ok for aliens to prey?
Upon our earthen developments stay?
And enslave our species to sate their gut?
To fawn and feed and slupper and glut?
Because they have a higher IQ?
Or more dextrous fingers with which to hew?
Are you sure you want to be an unthinking one?
Of the masses maraud and to the deed done?
As somnambulist reaching with a laden gun
And end life forthwith no winner or won
Unless you count dinner to the taste of your tongue
Trained since a child to sing the song sung
Of the glory of meat as to salivate and savour
As if bowing to the idea of what will crave ya
Haven't you ever heard of an acquired taste?
Well couldn't we now apply this with grace?
Apr 9, 2021
Apr 9, 2021 at 11:48 PM UTC
Can you settle for more or less if today was your last day
And what would be your retort if you were denied another chance?
How life introduces sobriety and the impending inevitability
The interstice and it’s ingress that encloses before your eyes
The demanding pouring of importune time
That soothing allaying sighs that evoke incalculable alleviation
If someone were to impart as they closed their eyes
As they died with a commital of happenings with not enough time
As to burden you with the impression of only one chance
It would seem and with the impending inevitability
Of your death which would subito compromise the day
A bearding contrivance plight of obligations engagement and commital no alleviation
An abecedarian dossier concealed for a long time
All this time the inevitable coinciding incident only for your eyes
The emotional habituation was of quotidian rendition each day
Of how trivial things take us on a dance with only one life one chance
With your attention and awareness on the answer the inevitability
Of what you are becoming with each passing second for each
Thought which transpires and no alleviation
Is there an epoch a replicating limn a depiction of our linear time
As we perpetrate and pursue progressively for our alleviation
Engaged to staying the course the day
Stirring closing in on our deliberate objective determined chance
Which remained for a terse duration from the inevitability
In which at the atrium of this erstwhile portage of a duvet to belabor
To stifle firsthand with your eyes
The variant from this domicile from this residence on a day
Is the vagabond to perish in yonder with no alleviation
Once man was a brute dullard or a curmudgeon spinster at a time
Which offers a mute disconnection ragged miscreant the inevi
Naivety or absent mindedness to somnambulist and its silhouette
Notwithstanding change
The quagmire and it’s nightmare the ingrate delighted with coined
Shunned eyes
Reputation with a flagrant obscene defilement galvanizing
The alleviation
At the heart of this lies another chance
A precocious inevitability
A man who lies to die another day
The annihilation in desperate want for from those argent eyes
To the starving newfangled optimism which in its sheen
Shines sunshine dulling the ocular orbs of time
Forwithal in befuddlement remain here
The time if infringement to comprehend the volatile vertigo
And the inevitability
The harrowing of hell
Glance at the shinning suns in her eyes intention considers change
After you heal and left are the cicatrix
Will you plunge further for alleviation
Or on the intent of regression once again
From long ago to another distant day.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 9:20 PM UTC
Balancing whispers in our scales
We exhaled our reason
And spent a lifetime
Immersed in a spiral of pleasure
The grass may seem greener
But only in fair weather
And your mind is a heavy sweater
That you wear sparingly
To cover up the bareness
Of your shoulders
Apr 22, 2019
Apr 22, 2019 at 11:13 AM UTC
*This wispy somnambulist
an ethereal spirit no doubt
I bumped in to by chance
on a strange hour at night
during my wanderings
for that unknown essence,
conveyed this, sans words:
"From nowhere I did start,
the journey was what did count
this winding search was my find
have no destination in mind"
I recognized the truth
behind all this;
quite an arduous trek
I was looking for him
in my perambulations-
all through my life.
We are 'one river' slowing down
as we reach near
the deep blue ocean.*
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 3:30 PM UTC
The somnambulist searches
in an insomniac stupor
His glazed eyes
unseeing
he gropes in the darkness
His hands graze fleshen walls
that pulse
as if with subtle breath
Who knows what he seeks
certainly not him
Naked he wanders
clothed only
in a tattered Jolly Roger
skull stained red
caked in dried blood
He longs for something he cannot comprehend
he longs
for the one he lost long ago
Each stumbling step he takes
he sighs
praying in vain
for a hand to reach out
and grasp his
to lead him from his endless maze
of failure
Into a new realm
where darkness dwells in beauty
and love is not an illusion in the hat of a trickster
"This way"
a voice whispers
and he stumbles on blindly
to his doom or to his joy
this is something he cannot know.
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 9:29 AM UTC
IN the divine frenzy of that moment,
when they met each other first, as predicted,
she pulled him down over her,for eons together,
on the marble step they just passed each other.
Both froze, trapped in a time wrap,
within a moment as a sculpture in alabaster.
A somnambulist sculpturer,with a wild imagination,
claimed it as his master piece, oblivious of the facts!
The cosmos is only a thought,like a flowing river reaching
to the ocean of eternity, if you would remember.
Every imagination, at a point becomes real, memory,
happenings, gains and loss all look the same as one goes on.
Every one passing the steps up and down, invariably is amazed,
wonder still, who this marble couple are, what story they'd tell.
The circle, is bound to get completed, a million years after,perhaps,
2
Two butterflies, flying around the sculpture, to see if there is a drop
of nectar anywhere,find it on the lips joined,in a kiss eternal,
as they taste it together, they did remember a day in the life of universe,
A wise silver owl, watching this divine pantomime, flies up,
enlightenment strikes hard;on that zen moment, all fall in place!
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 11:24 AM UTC
The sundancer is dodging space junk on the moon.
She is daughter of the sun, reason the moon shines.
The view is breathtaking, and so is the vacuum.
Below spin smells of seaweed, wildflower perfume,
but here satellites crush to dust, just alkaline.
The sundancer is dodging space junk on the moon.
There's no air to breathe up here, only fumes;
she sees moons fall into their planets all the time.
The view is breathtaking, and so is the vacuum.
Sundancer somnambulist hears ghosts in her bedroom.
She pulls the tides to her chin, tucked in, and hides.
The sundancer is dodging space junk on the moon.
She dances in dark but keeps a toothbrush in my bathroom.
She is trying to survive.
The view is breathtaking, and so if the vacuum.
She whistles at birds, content in her own volume.
Constellation clustered face, her freckled stars align.
The sundancer is dodging space junk on the moon.
The view is breathtaking, and so are you.
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 1:49 AM UTC
Blink and you miss it
Time is a somnambulist,
Travelling without
Realisation of the
Destination or purpose
Apr 28, 2010
Apr 28, 2010 at 3:05 PM UTC
The somnambulist son,
to whom dreams come no matter
dusk or dawn
laying in bed awake.
Feeling every tear
on my shoulder shed.
How many have i held?
Tears falling into
skin. Clavicle (for)
acting in retention.
Lachrymal in mention.
Soporific, i cant see it.
Time for the drunks to head home.
Jan 17, 2012
Jan 17, 2012 at 11:53 PM UTC
did i knock your door last night,
prompted by a dream?
please forgive,
i am an incorrigible somnambulist.
Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 7:56 AM UTC
Wearing a drab dress, all white,
I see a girl child of about eight
seemingly lost, perhaps left alone to fight
her continuing wars with a callous world,
walking hurriedly all by herself along
a desolate street, that to me seems familiar
yes, it's in the part of the city, once I lived
which always was seen teeming with life
except perhaps in such mystery dreams.
Think of this, don't you in spirit live in many
different places, like hearts of lovers one cherishes
though now one hardly remembers, how
it happened and where it was or how many
different persona constitute, the 'You, you think are You'
Like a somnambulist she walks along the tree lined street,
I was watching her through a window set high,
as she passed a young palm laden with coconuts,
and then a strange feeling gripped me and said
"It must be she, standing in this cozy room's warmth
and isn't that I, taking faltering steps along the street,
where she has been never before and don't know
what awaits her or any other beyond that corner"
Is she a refugee from somewhere, an orphan whom
the world has jettisoned, with nothing to look forward?
An improbable adventurer aged just eight, still
ready to stare a dark, overcast day, on it's face fearless?
I just flew out of the window and was astonished at that feat
and the speed; who would think I could pull it off?
I flew following her as if fearing for my dear life,
as if she and I have a cryptic connection I forgot,somehow
Where is she?my heart in palpitation,I flow with the wind.
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 4:05 PM UTC
As he walks blindly, the somnambulist
deep in his subconscious is awareness why it happens;
loveless nights prompts wanderings in darkness
he can't willfully stop this wild goose chase
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 9:25 AM UTC
i see graves in centrifugally waiting
faces
of vain.
mortised to sleep, somnambulist
of this prickly road,
i kneel to pick flowers
and throw them
onto the face i long for
understanding my eyes
my mouth
my body
steelwork of soul,
tossing as if a toast
to our end-fate afloat
in a raven's wingtip:
we are all deaths
wa
iti
ng.
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 10:58 PM UTC