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Image for the poem [four bullet sho(r)ts of…]  ~blackskies & blooddawn

[four bullet sho(r)ts of…]  ~blackskies & blooddawn


 
 
 
 
 
 
1.
decay b(l)oom

 
 
silent choking  
choreography
stage~spreads  
 
in horrific strides  
of fluorescing radii  
with sudden strange
fruity~ floral incense
amid thick death stinks
 
& that this thursday’s  
thirsting black rainfall  
falls down venomous  
  arrowed in stains over  
wrinkle ripen await skins  
 
tattoos fate yet again  
 
..& deep humors cry out  
to ditched out leachates  
 
-a wasted finality succulence  
amid sound gamble of tears
 
a crisis city in open-dungeon
strew stacks of wrapped up  
 
pure white sapless flowers  
 
sooty burning funeral nation  
 
in its breaking mass cremation  
 
 
 
 
2.  
self-bitten penancing moon
 
 
even the super pink moon  
 
[from its bridal blotting out  
uncontainably in the swell  
rosily with a tingeing blush  
of its southern uncurtaining  
curvaceous edges- bulge out  
pretty risky as rimming razor  
metallic glob of a blinding flash  
.. growing to  protrude oblate  
as an overblown impregnate  
voluminous tissuing.. yet a clear
condensing concentrate One]
 
 
shrivels surreally atrocious  
from its bridal complexional  
gathering mountainous highs  
 
to a voracious self-cannibalistic  
skeletal moon.. soaking itself in  
tragedy skies- screams in shrilly  
soprano elegiac melancholy.. for
its virally going earthling deaths
 
 
 
3.  
her ::  the firing summer star, 'agninatchatiram'

 
scorchy desert(ed) stonehearts too  
melt in as rarified volatilities- a rush  
of an unclassifyingly  brewing essence  
of a some stirring astringence crisis--  
 
of anticipation   of the finding
of the feeling   of the high flying
of an almost tangent~ elusive touch  
of a needful breathing pain- eating  
in out in a rawbleed beastly beauty

 
of self.. moistly~ bitten harvest
of  vulnerable fruition... awaits even  
more assaults of lively~deathly cyclical..  
 
yes.   this now.  in conception
 
the rainfall spirals in a firing spree  
of gushing up petrichor spirits.. from  
 
within her aching deep soul core molten
 
 
 
4.  
him :: from a(n) (un)day,  in supreme devotee’s ritual
 
 
 
relentless are his visitations  
for the daily 'darisanam'.. in  
love’s dutiful labour.. quoted  
in no fat book of definitions  
 
but, wholly... of an abidance  
in felt holy calling divinations  
 
for that one glimpse of the deity’s  
eyes.
. fills in his thirst senses  
to hungering spirits... adding on  
a fiery streak & crackly sparkle  
to the unwavering speary eyeflame  
of the humming om thirdeye
 
today, he saintly waits....   in the  
temple’s entrance... only to a saddening  
emptyhanded return…  
 
near.     yet, not yet for today . for now..  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Written by summultima (uma)
Published | Edited 3rd May 2021
Author's Note
#156 #ERULGCT. Rob. Love Ev Doo xx
Also shared for #NoPoo/ 030521/ 00:46:16
Wordless.. yet scribbling this .. in pains in hope in love in light.. motherland, this too shall pass.
Pic: Web. #IsabelleVialle Art
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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