The Soultopian Love... of our 'Amirtham' raining~ butterflying, a solid alchemy
your eyes are papery black carbonaceous conical Cuillin Scot mountains
in an immersive inversion… wet slithery shimmery eel multidimensional
projectiles in the nightish dewy running collective tears pulling my rubble
bridges in many a needful stringy concrete chalazal suspensions…
& by the scorchy summer day… erects as amazingly rugged transitions...
a rocky~ scarred ageless warrior... in but fine sugar sprinkled dispositions...
of an ever~ invitational... a globular 'kaala jamun' dome, a dry dessert
delicatessen in the endless giving... of your gathering 'Amirtham'
the leeward side of them all...
(neither you nor me... nothing exists?
it’s in such sudden mood changes...
..their thickety fogginess
almost gruesomely adamantine
with a surreal blanketing
a shaded hilly weather’s
at sickening heights... greyey
patches of cloudy gloominess
grips in migraine & nauseates
often the yellowy bile bitters)
of you & me
is this dystopian
(even the May suns
are in the brutal expelling
for their only keepsakes
are the very synthetic
turfs.. glass houses of
antics... & the fantasies of a
hysterical fanatic reign as
the laws of an unnatural day...
their flourishing sadisms
seed venoms of vendetta
politics as the apparatus
serpent tongues in a pathetic
un~ moulting hypocrisies of
they still cannot comprehend
or feel our rains… neither can they
recreate nor roughly replicate
those .. in such gushing
geosmin emanating alchemy
of you & me... of Love
our moist & humus laden
humming clayey soils in
viscous smooth stirrings of our
seeded solid conceptions...
are never in a burial
..even in their desiccating
brutal inhabitable terrains
burning to ashen graveyard
mounds of a no-man’s-land...
..our brittle mortal skeletal
remnants in the vanishing..
hold & breathe still
the invisible quintessence
of Love absolute
their manufacturing corporatism
in some copycat masterminded dumping...
'intrinsic purity & genuineness'-
-those that’s forever souling in
singularity ingredient'... as the
mystic... & that seems a sequencing
randomness of undecodable
blabbers & scribble scripts
of our versing destiny...)
…could never ever feel us
if not to know a bit even