deepundergroundpoetry.com
~of the forever birthing Chaos, L O V E
mysterious in formations... the
tri~ striped pitch-black clouds...
(over the already hazily off-whitish
mesh of a filamentous fungi skies...
..murmurous under the diffusing
dimly pervasive lights... of a smeary
vulnerable naked papery moon... in
tumescent holds of a deepen depth
the secretive craters are fallen unto)
are the sharpened ‘trishul’ weaponry
elongating its streaky warring traces
that these onlooking prone eyes imbibe..
sooner in decongregations... to a peace
of clarifying space of nothingness now
happens so sooner... to the disbelieving
eyes... which seems to virally contract the
impacting hazy chaos of the sprawling sky
eyes... these eyes are now... mere rounded
up balls of blurriness... that’s somehow in a
strangely inner captivation... to be in a tight
capture... by the now fully in awakening, the
scotopic twilightic blooms of the digging
hard retinal rods..
...even in the blaring aloud living daylights
they morph as the intense sunblind glares
of the fiery scissoring hot “agni natchathiram”
summer days of a redhot forest
flaming fire
it’s here to stay...
the destiny of a beautiful chaos...
[the harbinger of a pre~ orgasmic arousal
in pheromonal petrichor emanating bursts...
a drizzly micro~ blotting wetness sets in... as
each nano~ piercing ‘trishul’ of pencilling in
rainlets... explode in n-probabilistic bombastic
avenues... of incrementally abrasive emery zone
in an overwhelmingly painpleasure
deltaic drain
the unabashedly sloshing lagoon catchments
pool up unto love~ brims through the mouthing
rapidity of frothy foaming
impulsive estuaries...
unto Love, an open wide unconditionally natural
& wild uproarious sea of tiding
tsunamic ecstasy]
the so~ dimming mellowing yellow afternoons
of the tightlipping sultry pregnant buds... cracks
open in a relaxing ooze of paining contractions
..lashes out the amniotic sacs to
flowering births
the such discrete & plasmic simultaneity.. of this
labour of Love.. is the destined sacred conception
of a Chaos.. Love
milky rains outpour... from pitch-black impulses
‘i am in the composite birthing forever...’
(…breaking shackles of the passage~ petrified
adamantine greys, in its monitor-lizardous grips..
~nostrils finally feel in reliefs of the congested
bitter urbanities in lethal chlorination dosages
~all they now deeply inhale are the crisp sundried
wafty fragrance of the cottony clothes afloat fresh
..in just crushed essence of the damask rose petals
..& now, there’ this a diamond moment, a delicate
movement .. a so~ constant~ stud of a temple sweat
prismatic pure droplet... neither frozen or in flows...
..it’s also when the ancient bells of a sonorous note
..sorta those of the high altitudinal Tibetean Buddhist
monk monasteries... of an ice-cream man... in a slow
typa chuggy diesel monorail mimicking vehicle...
rings now)
#30 #ERULGCT
Published 7th May 2020
Author's Note
#30 ERULGCT.. just the raw uncut wild flow of a glowy flow.. of the elemental sync & aligns in ~of ~ for Love.. You Know. Robonoid . Love You & All Du xx
pic: Fusion Work .. of web images. self.
Base painting is of Johan Christian Claussen Dahl, 'Moon kveld over Dresden', 1827.
pic: Fusion Work .. of web images. self.
Base painting is of Johan Christian Claussen Dahl, 'Moon kveld over Dresden', 1827.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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8th May 2020 6:06pm
the destiny of a beautiful chaos... - love that!
fascinating work as always my friend
fascinating work as always my friend
8th May 2020 7:15pm
phermonal petrichor stopped me in my tracks. Holy shit. My spell check can't even grasp it, red lines under both, lol I feel it, though. When I first opened it and looked at the picture I thought you said bitch black. I was like that's edgy as hell and cool alliteration. I love the metaphors you rapid fire in the end and the ground they cover. The piece builds in a frenetic, erotic pitch, to the penultimate stanza, where it crystallizes. It reminded me of a bird in flight that reaches the apex of its climb and the moment between the rise and fall, where it is almost still. It's always a soulful experience in various ways Uma. It holds rapture and distanceless dimensions, like music.
Anonymous
9th May 2020 00:02am
Ha. I have Oxbridge mates who have nowhere near your depth of vocabulary. And this is your 3rd language. Always impressed / immersed by the poetry you constantly write. Inspires my flow flow. xx
