violence dripping fromspeech, visualsmedia reportsvenomous wordsmental abuse-collects in poolsaround your feetobstructing movement you drag yourselflooking for a boatbut the boatman’s oarsare knives and swordsthe sky grows darkerthe clouds speak to youbut refuse to rain all that you see and senseis not a fraction ofthe violence within-unexpressed hatredbehind civilised masks-simmering resentmentin tears held back-awaiting revengeIn this … Continue reading Dark Thoughts
I wincemy truth is underplayedmy honesty suspectedfor I happen to bea storyteller stories are pixelated truthfragments of thoughtsfloating through humanity And if my words are shadows on the wall,is it deception—or the only way to touch the light? OLN #413
5000 steps leading to a templestreams of pilgrims crawling up like antsbags of fear on broken backssteered by hopes of a miracle rocky terrains beneath tired feetcottony clouds reading thoughtsI’m tempted to ask the Goddessto descend from assumed heightsmeet believers and negotiateterms of contractspelt in red threads-wishes tied on wavering branches I’m sure she wants … Continue reading Pilgrimage Reversed
I will rememberwhat the water gave mewithout drenching me to the bones-secrets of transparency-blocks in fluency-the highs of storiesin ocean depthsinvisible, but approachableif someone dives deep enough-reflections of the skycreating wistfulness That boat on the horizonpromises a journey to unknown worldsyet keeps sailing out of reachas if it has lost its compass Water made me … Continue reading Watery reflections
I ate a poem todayNo, I hold nothing against the poetIt was accidentalI was holding a page openand I dozed off. The poem spoke to mein my sleepas it could notduring my waking hours It had permeatedlayers of the subconsciousto find connecting pointswhy did I underline certain partswith a not-so-sharp, old pencil The poem re-emergedin … Continue reading I ate a poem today
Hot air balloons of mutual expectationspuffed up with speeches and self-importance,hover like parade floats of borrowed virtue. One jab of realitysharp as a safety pinand the grand spectacle collapses,leaving the stench of heartbreakand a crumpled, wasted life Image credit - Lillian OLN at dVerse
I remember how expressions changed whenI expressed an opinion-non-aligned-unconventional I remember how they squirmed whenreminded of their irrelevance-non-contribution-unfairness I remember how doors were slammed shutbefore I knewI couldn’t squeeze in my irregular shapeand the size of my IQinto preconceived boxesthey treasured and preserved for decades-boxes with magic mirrorsthat made them look goodbut switched rolesif a … Continue reading I will remember
colors hauntask for new patternsexpressionun-alignedto vision of the artist-but through his toolkit The painting is entitled “Mme Kupka among Verticals” and was painted in 1910-11 by Frantisek Kupka OLN at dVerse
A fold of paper, never creased,No ink to trace the heart’s release.The words you wrote, I’ll never knowThey vanished where the lost winds blow. The postmark faded, never stamped,Your voice a ghost, the edges damp.I hold the space where it should beA letter lost, yet haunting me. dVerse - OLN#395
I want a dressthat changes colourto crack my perceptionand yourslet it show a different shadeby mixing colours-a hue thatneither names menor reflects youbut the interactionwith unsaid words-a tintI watchbut don’t touch I want a dressthat gets me labelleda chameleonfor it revealsmyriad versions of me-unapologetic-unassuming-unmoved I want a dressthat provides spaceto float and flowgo high or … Continue reading Is it a dress or something else?
