Dejection (NaPoMo 6)

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for the last decade
of my screams,
I have forgotten the hang
of how words
can echo back
to the ossuary-
wherein lies my battered self;
bleeding wet cacophony
on the gravestones
of my suicidal whims…

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Blemished (NaPoMo 5)

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~~

my limbs fold in
itself,
merging together
to form a self-carved
stone;
atop pebbles
thrown at me,
as I tried to crawl
through abyss of
echoing conflicts.

time swayed
relentlessly
forming monochrome
in a heartbeat;
yet,
I remained as a stigma
amidst stipples.

~~

Aplomb (NaPoMo 4)

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sleep…
gentle wind
upon battered eyelashes
whispered;

and I heeded,
murmuring sad tales
in the afterglow
of a storm-
that ripped  me
into branches of poetry;
flowered
with petals of semblance
between
fragility and agility.

I knew not how to wake
from the fragrance
within.

 

 

Chimera (NaPoMo 1)

 

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I barely notice
the heaving grey clouds
in between my pictorial
representation-
of silver monasteries,
sitting shoulder to shoulder
in pride;
waiting for heaven
to click a flash
and capture them all in one
big fake picture.

and l, I smile…
waiting for the meadows to
invigorate me

When my fears died inside my screams.

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the winged imagery
on my fragile eyes
that have seen worst storm
than my recent smoky synopsis,
died at the right curve
where my crinkles
could never reach
to romance.

yet, I tried to powder
too many lines
worth mentioning on my forehead
to make it look weak,
with fewer metaphors-
to grandeur the already dead soliloquy;

but the color on my lips
take the audience away,
the bright show stopper
arch into a killer smile
that have mastered the
skill of creating an enigma
enclosed in marble stilettos

I have walked in angles
that doesn’t bend to solve
an equation
and now that I have resumed
walking after the crash
in metered sonnets,
I have ever since raised the number
of rhinestones
on my jacket;
each a tattoo of violent hurricane
I tamed.

…In that old castle of haunted prayers…

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the stipples left too many
odd spots on the ground,
where once hummed hymns
echoed boundlessly
as I ran my fingers
through the pews of disregarded hopes.

woken up
by the tune of old piano
that coughed up dust at first
and then blindly regarded my
beating heart.

enchanted
bewitched

candles flickered
eerily,
like shadows of long forgotten memories
danced in the gloomy sun

each footstep
christened the damned spirits
who followed my tempo

each second fell like dust
onto paper
as I crafted words
that flew around;
songs meant to be sung
and vows meant to keep.

I mercilessly ignited sleeping phantoms,
and watched how the
musical notes possessed me to laugh
in the forgotten channels of mysteries
and how the silence laughed with me.

sometimes
the best-sung songs are hidden beneath smiles
in the most deserted alleys of life

Woman

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intuition
catastrophic reverberation
falling syllables
moving highways

her words are lost
and
found in hurricanes,

her silence deepens
the moment
her heart withdraws

you may not realize
how hard she tries
to remain in the shadows
and not let her scars shine

you may not understand
how hard her lips quiver
how fast her fingers move
to take down the traitorous tears

grace
lipsticks stains
more
mac contour

love
left out loud
hate
halted in the right signs

you have to look
the right way
to see her inner shine

you have to capture
the right angle
to see her perfect smile

she is a woman
a warrior
a girl

she is a lady
a sweetheart
a girl

she is woman
a weak bud
strong stem

she is me
and her
and us
it’s I
if you don’t mind…