bird of the ashes had risen already

 



[A night’s cry of the thirteenth order] doesn’t frighten this benumbed soul


southern skies of a summer's night
reveals its hidden layers after layers
in its profusely blinked lightning
in ominous flashes

fixed and flaming dark yellow spot, the
overly staring western venus amongst
the sprinting serrated erratic clouds
vanishes somewhere

this open terrace holds my solitude
in a slightly different tone today..

the grouped up coconut leaflet silhouettes
turn to dimly yellowish bulbed hut, erected
in a century's slow dancing ritualistic
somnolence
that’s yet in somewhat a warrior’s
abrasive rage of its warring
sword ..dry and indifferent  
to my hungry fingers
of touching fragilities

the street alert Sandy of the burning
tars too, stands bewildered
staring the moonlessness,  unheeding
to my usual calls trying to shake
a quick and warm side glance from his
otherwise busy night guard eyes





[jinxed labyrinths of a webbed mind], not your fault mother


mother with my little daughters
are far away from the maddening quakes
carried within of my shattered within

that stammers and struggles
for any words of sunshine
now, Mother I just can’t
wish you anything
on even a hayday.

there’s light’s dearth in totality
over my piled up thickety bundle
of clouding opacities

your once stitched in frilled frock
with pockets of cherubic laughter
are lost in a forlorn me to empty
patches in compressed latencies
that’s exploding to a cannibalistic
nakedness in abysmal
searches of the simplistic truths
in their bled out lacerating visceral
spread all over in hunted wilderness

unimaginable anomalies,  bubbling
to be burst to be lost to nowhere


don’t search your little girl, mother





[the uselessly wavering beat of a ceasing midnight heart] turns daredevil


burns the borrowed kerosene lanterns
to lengthen the midnights of miraging togetherness
vainly in harnessing the mumbled words
of dreamy covers

retting neck from the wettened eyes
protrudes out in fibrous pain elongates

eyelids are tucked in particulate botches
with curdling blots in the piercing

words..yet again
stammer and struggle
to be swindled inner in dormancies
of a dangerously coldening kind..

heart fiddles and freezes
in fused imageries of the past
that was once the madly throbbing lifeline
and are only faintly remnantal
graveyards now


tussles back this heart
from frozen dreams and desires
of the delusional hinterlands

to the self-immolating volcanic truths
passed hard through the simmering
to sooty pages of destiny




burn burn burn faceless traceless

liberation needs to happen after all