lovely woman
Stands at turn of roads
Which way will she go
Legs akimbo and head down in
thought
How will this beautiful flower grow?
Her head has memories of
Silver clouds
Sunlined days ago
And inside her a sweet little girl
Dares not let go.
Ruefully her mouth
Makes a brave little moue
The road behind was long
And if she could have reached this far ahead
Why the rest should be
A song.
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
The last time
I will not meet you
in my thoughts
Has come around
Again.
This has got to be
That last time
Ifeel the wrench
Of pain
Audible, alive
A scream
that never died.
Writhing inside
A basket of
Hissing snakes.
And something crumbles
Inside
Crystalline granular
Crushed ice
Melting to molasses
A slow drip...
Drip...drip.
There's an end
To even endless pain.
Malingering,badgering
Like a bad dream
Curling me up into a fetal
ball of
Raw pink flesh .
Whatever clutches my heart
Has turned septic
A disease and now surely
Must be drained.
Not love no longer pain...
And I wonder will your memories be,
A litany of unease?
I expelled I exorcized
the ghosts...
But I cannot annihilate sudden fits of grief.
The tears dry before they can even fall
Eventually the heart learns all
Smash it often enough against unfeeling walls
Naiveté becomes practical
A cold malicious atavistic pride
Not to be taken for a ride.
For coaches turns out to be hollowed pumpkin shells
Upon midnights stroke of hell,
By the wishing well,
Coachmen and horses do turn back to mice
Fairy godmothers and charming princes
I'm quite certain now,
That both are lies.
Am I crying then for you, or me
Soul stung I hear heart's lullaby
My streaming spring bed
Though, is almost dry
Thirst can't quench the pity
Of what must die.
Again and again I will feel pain
Sure cessation of recycled rain
The ability to feel a tender sorrow
Keeps alive my hidden
Tomorrows.
Perfect planning for coming of age
As our souls mature to vintage
How to acquire the title of a sage
When all is lost
Lose your outrage.
So I accept
The terms of life
Be calm
Become at ease
And pick up the broken
thread where it was released
The moment turns, to return.
There are no last times
In our mind.
But Time is,
Finite.
our mortal portion
Carve we
As we will.
Melting passion
In pearly brine
Must have been
Part of some grand design
to straighten spines
To realign
To accept that it was destined
Love plays cruel to be most kind.
So only now, am I finally
Beginning to realize
I'm as happy as I desire to be
Don't need no fairies
Men or mice.
I can live without
you.
You're my best friend
You opened my eyes.
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
Weekly Challenge Oct 25-Nov 1
When the veil between dimensions is thinnest...
When the world reaches its own shallow brink
When Time rises a holocaust of itself
When sun fades to evil
Behind the scenes
On such an All Hallows Eve
This tale enchanted begins...
Dark and lean and lovely as a cloud was she
Her beauty enveloped
And wrapped me lightly
A soft cloak of velveteen sin.
She was bright and gentle and she always lent me her light
Though it was dark and grey
I,
a glow worm in her faint starlight, expelling doubts
Like miasma.
She was peace and family
She was silence
Of remembered childhood
She was familiar tombstone
blessing earthly graveyards.
The friend who never spoke much but carried you in her heart
And her love cradled you
All cozy, crazily
Comfortable.
She was the ghastly story you
Would never tell
But seek all your life
Yet only in lewd secretive tales
And regale in steeped
Memories.
Now she half touched me in
dreams.
Now she disappeared...
Left me flaming
A ghost torch
Of kisses from coral
Cobra lips.
So I looked into my mirror
Oh fatal glance
Hoping she would be found
Shrouded
In mists of wistful sighs.
Turn truth inside out and upside
down
Arise in full glory
Of sweet suspended lie.
My dark clouded thoughts held mournful sway
Rain swollen my eyes
barely held briny
Tears at bay.
She smiled and the mirror shone
Brittle silver and blazing bones
kind harmony welling from earnest eyes...
When....
the veils between dimensions were at their thinnest....
My heart rapt
Leapt into her lap
I lay sobbing on the floor and
How I laughed!
Twisting knives in my tormented torso
Her tempest touch
Enveloped me
As her form stepped out through
Thresholds unknown.
Terror turned me
stone
My vision burned
Her chaste visage flawless riches
Towards me turned
Peerless amidst the witches
Dark and stately her brazen trance
My heart prostrate at her command
And she transformed from
The covenant of my trust
Into amorous femme fatale
The tryst with rubicund lust...
The rest...
Look into your mirror
Therein it dwells
Mortality evermore
Shall fail.
But not tomorrow,
Let the day roll by
For tonight and tomorrow
The gargoyles sigh.
Thus ends my tale on
All Hallows Eve
The lurid ending of
My highest romance
That brought me in
A lead casket
floating upon a
Dead Sea of grief.
on another night
Perhaps I would've withstood
But not when ravenous
Hags and scavengers seared
The phantom woods
In search of souls thus
Forever soiled
Who dared to relieve
Joys of mortal past
And were unutterably
Spoiled.
Death took me that night
Like nothing could
I died in her arms
As many men
gladly would
Became two deathless eyes
Swollen in the parched night sky.
Listen ye to the
Owl...
Twoo whit twoo
Listen well
For his most hard earned wisdom
Too fetid and foul.
.....And nevermore dare gaze
Upon reflections of your soul
In mirror's crystal clear bowl
Never ever on Halloween
For it's your soul
Sprites need to win.
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
Pride denies
Pride takes on life
Values itself
At the going rate.
I cannot afford
It's affront to my
Heart.
My heart is a place
Of happiness.
When I'm not seeking looking
Or marking time
Pride is defiant, petty
Wants me to take
Second place
While it roars alive
Its affronted rage
Too proud to appear
Unhappy
Too proud to seek solace
Too proud to admit
It's only
Losing grace.
I wasn't unhappy
Till I tried not to be.
Desperately seeking
Happiness
Trying tested formulae
The doorways so promising
The lock clicks open
And shut
Ali baba's magic cave
With its catch phrase password.
Meaningless pleasure
steeped in
Piquant spiced up meanings.
So one last treacherous embrace
Knaves of gluttony,
My forty thieving friends
your defiant deviance
My alter ego raves
Brandishing such brazen knives Sparkle of nickel cadmium blades.
Undaunted, I dance enmeshed in seven sinful veils
Lust rampant in sulpherous haze
Deception's soft flurry lace
Vanity hiding behind
vapid vacuous face.
Pride's a two faced shrew
It can act so truly
humble and meek
To save face it will even feign
Timid appearances
frail and weak.
The flitting happiness we hustle
To keep
Ostentatiously it's perfume reeks
The pride that pretends not to weep
Forgets what the heart must truly seek.
I am so sure now,
I was better off,
better off than this.
When I was content
To be
In the is.
Much better to crush and shatter
brittle hopes
Vaporize bawdy
Tawdry dreams
When I look at what could be
And is
Oh existence!
And existence of
consciousness,
I am but a beautiful ravenous kiss
In your peerless timeless
Fleeting breeze.
With no time to spare
On dubious luxuries
epiphanies and fits
Of futile future bliss.
Blustering red faced hubris
I hunt you down
On your wounded animal pride
I firmly ensconce the thorny encircled crown
Reductionist of life's very scope
Pride you're now disrobed
A recurring clichéd trope.
And though
Aimals have a right
To lick their wounds
It's only in helpless innocence
If they bleed upon the ground
But arrogance howls
like a defiant wolf
Into the moon's visage.
Shedding blood as its nightly
evil purge.
I am a glass pane to reflect
the world that is
Clear, frosted
Even better when stained
With gorgeous golden joy or
Grapes' passionate purplish hues
pain paints me in such wondrous
Blues
I wouldn't part with these sorrows true
They make earthly kaleidoscopes
Forever beautiful.
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
Oh shucks I'm the devil. We're currently facing planned power outages every evening between 7pm to 8pm.
This is the time while waiting for 8pm lights and dinner we have adapted into each doing our own thing.
I of course fiddle with my cell try to write surf the wildly exciting and impossible net but today baby asked me for a drink because he was "feeling dry!"
I carefully made my way to the kitchen to get him a glass of water correcting his English on the way and realized I couldn't pour water into his narrow necked sipper in the dark.
I asked, "someone fetch my cell please."
Kids were busy rioting with their daddy in the only room equipped with a power box light. Noone answered.
I shouted "can I have a light? water's dripping everywhere!"
No answer except squeals of delight from kids being tickled by daddy.
"Light!!!", I roared.
More squeals and squeaks.
"I need a light", I screamed then waited till a count of 3 and in an ominously grave voice I thundered, "Let There Be Light!"
It was impressive if I say so myself.
I stood waiting for magical things to happen. And they did.
As I finished my thunderous command our entire house was plunged into pitch darkness.
I closed the tap and said cuttingly, "Anto, if this is your idea of a joke then...don't you... Dare!!", stuttering my indignation.
Anto shone his teeny cell phone torch and looked at me puzzled. "I didn't
switch off the power box"
Just then baby handed me the little lamp thingy that attaches to the power box.
"Here mamma you said you wanted light, so I unplugged it and brought it to you."
Yes he sure did.
I'm now thoroughly enlightened.
A) I am Not God.
B) God lucked out that saboteur Josh wasn't around to wreck creation when he said let there be light.
I guess golden words should never be repeated.
Perhaps not even by God.
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
Conquistadors Kissing the Sidewalk
Kissing divisive sidewalks
Separating moth eaten
Nightmares and
Dust laden dreams...
Glass slippers in the air
raining cinderella ashes
Slipping off for a fantastic
Tale... hope on hands
Doing freedom cartwheels.
Snap of electric
Stars crackling in my hair
Terse static power
In defiance of gravity
Standing on its head
There's no dreaming grace
No dread reckoning
No redeeming our undead.
Buffer memorials
Toast past regrets
Oases of heaven
Shimmer in silence
Rusty ramshackle
back gates.
Fallen scarred
Martyred starred
Marked for life
With instant body art
lightning tatoos
Tightening nooze
A mother a while
And a while ago
A maladjusted wife.
Scared to death
Why don't we learn
Of late
Reality plays its eclectic score
too subtle too flawed
Too variable
flowing in a steady flood
from under earthquake's floor.
Predictably unpredictable
Eventually everyone
dissembles
Let's play musical chairs
To unseat the disabled.
Trust is a swear word.
Lets get unplugged
And like thanksgiving turkey
And Halloween pumpkin.
Carve out the inner angst.
What devilish self absorption
What a diva's distortion.
Narcissistic love marries
Agonized angst
Just islands revisited
In a reality show's
Wide screen stance
Some highs
Some lows.
Unjust desserts
Ill timed romance.
On a childhood excursion
Handcuffed to parents
Protection's privileged
Prison, unto the private beach
Of parental sand castles
Of secretive sea shells
Sounding guarded conches
Development of a rich
Variegated interior self
Left undisturbed and
nurturing itself.
A life that's not sacrilege
Nor sacrifice designed for
Global gluttony.
Surreal jutting bones
Drop dead beauty
Comely cannibal cliffs
Ushering us to the cynical climb
Upto Conical Suicide peak.
The cyclical ritual sacrifice.
Beckoning deep blue bay
Wherein danger lies
froth dancing high
Sunken basin of guilts
And unpaid debts
Our burdens are ever
What we can't deny.
Your exhilarating evil panic
For the crazed hissing gaze of millions
Bored to death
So will she die?
...
Before or after the break?
Atonement in beauty.
Synchronize with nature.
Arise in simplicity.
Strength in acknowledgement
Certainty reduced to shreds
Capacity derived from
Deprivation of
All control.
The faith in which a soul is blessed
Is a requiem to depravity.
Arousal of soft edged visionary
Wild child of acceptance.
And the fine fellowship of deceptive
Dapper dandies and deliquescent divas...
In the antechambers of
Valhalla they hold court.
Fake Gods and heroes
Their heir humanity
Drooling indignation
Desirous to be sold to
The highest bidder
Who thumps his chest
Buys the best
And locks art up,
Chaste chattel in his bed.
We must rake their chests
Probing for evidence
Clawing gnawing into somnolent souls
clueless what hearts
May be.
Maybe in the age of plastic
Hearts became pace makers
pulsating plasma meat
Transgendered trendsetters accelerating hysterical
Entropic beats.
Exploding the notions of
Exploring the realms of boundless
Imaginations
The alms without boundaries
In humble bountiful souls....
Precious precocious
Conquistadors
Seeking cosmic gold.
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs
How beautifully ethereal it's music to the ears
Annointing closed eyes with tempered visions
Matchless romance beyond gates of fear
I am entranced to think it today
What might have been could've stayed
It was sweet perfume my innocent bliss
Now the fumes of sighs make night's blue abyss
Yesterday's misty haze proves no lie
Love lies beyond our questions
Above Hows and Whys
It's always been for better and for
Worse
Love creates it's rationale and ambience
Mortally stricken I delved into
My antique shop of
Potpourri
A few free moments I dwell in peace
The portal gleaming a golden arch
My hands lift up the urn with the
Magic powdered pass
Once more before morning
Overtakes us my life
Find me take away the loss
With your bewitching love
Smoke of heaven
Fume of passionate sighs
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
Our Chief Minister of state. Despite mistakes can't help admiring her simplicity and plainness of living standards. She epitomizes the mindset of many simple motherly hardworking women of our poor state.
We die to welcome in urbanization with the Ratan Tatas and the Nano car but what we don't realize turning our rural brothers and sisters into cheap labor for mass produced tinshell contraptions not worth the money spent or the pollution of our already overclogged roads will ultimately bring about our economy's collapse.
Pushing the green belt further away from city limits increasing the urbanized sectors setting up special economic zones and behemoths of super malls and movie theatres...
What good will it do to you when the cost of food skyrockets and you cant afford EVEN the hybrid GM fruits and veggies you eat?
Congratulations to the cobbler who could afford the nominally priced Nano and commiserations to an entire generation of free holding farmers who lost their independent livelihoods and evergreen lives.
While a behemoth industrial machine quietly swallowed a 1200 crore rupees loss with ease locked up the factory built on lands bought at laughable prices from the poor and oppressed under the previous corrupt government
(often under threat, by local political big wigs), and decided to punish the non cooperation by building the same factory in another richer state where political conditions are entirely different.
As if the bloodbath of Singur was not punishment enough for those rural folks who had already been coerced into selling their ancestral lands.
Laugh at her if you like she has a finger on the pulse of the poorest of poor and one day the not so rich but comfortably off will realize that industrialization at the cost of environment isn't a blessing but a short lived gain...
Wishes of Shubh Bijoyadashami from a quaint lady with her own peculiar charm, someone who can only happen in West Bengal. And I say it quite fondly.
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
Receding Shores
The black waves came pouncing
Clammy claws of abject supplication dancing
Ferocious fury controlled
God's hand reaching out...
Wrath
Or despair?
The shore dancing like dying embers setting on the cityscape
Lights twinkling in individual hearths
Sinking one by one
out of sight...
Sleep
Or oblivion?
My eyes wet and darker than darkness
Dreaming about
Flower petals
Inside which my sons'
Shiny sunny faces
Appear
We are swayed by winds
To sweet sleep
In a beautiful grassy knoll
Carpeted by flowers...
Dreams
Or revelations?
My little boy did indeed dream
of being tucked on mommy's lap
Rocked in the center of a flower
Which swayed to the breeze
In zephyr blown
flower strewn fairyland...
And joined two tiny palms
To pray to God, sucking
succulent thumbs in his mouth
That mommy and he
May share and
Meet in dreams...
Now and
Forever?
Oh my little indispensable loves
Don't you know
That your prayer
Is my prophesy?
God has returned the
Tidal waves of despair
From tumultuous shores of
Wrath.
And the city, my world,
Even I,
And two precious lambs
Sleep in peace
Guarded by their
Temporal shepherdess.
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
Another chirpy piece!
Yellowstone Tree.
Have you seen evil
When you close aching eyes
In strange serpentine bends
Dark labyrinthine mazes
Sharp and stark
Of comatose grotesque mind?
Have you spied an ugly
evil tree that raises its surreal
demoniacal head?
Yellow weevils and spiky fuchsia bolls ushering portals
Of fibrous dead ends?
If I could show you
Portraits I have drawn
Ugly evil pictures
Strangling all my dawns?
In shiny stiff sutures
Cauterizing steel wool pain
Suffocating dead air
Filling stifling my sarcophagus
brain?
A soul sterilizer, tears
Melt to
Tangled afternoon flesh
Mangled motions
Strategic emotions
Planning escape.
Steaming and turgid
Bloody entrails of discarded notions
The dirty buckets of dreaming trash.
You would shiver
perhaps you'd cross yourself
But hush!
Be thou still...
Nighttime will come
And you will tell your tale.
Byzantine baroque and eponymous stale
Your litany of doom.
Brilliantine mazes of eternal
Recurrence of dingy rooms.
The magic never wears out
Yet matter decomposes,
Becomes decadent stale...
Dark labyrinth mind
Yellow Gold blossoms
Florid pages of hell.
You shall find
Glowering libraries
Arcane books all out of the stock
Memories alluring store
Run by mom and pop
Unseasonable
Unsettling distraught.
Voids unreasonable
Distractions, distortions
dormancy and lingering debts
Frustration's fingers wringe in despair
And gingerly camp in your head.
And the dilettante yellow blossoming tree
Such steady soft focused flowers
Destiny's fruits ripen in the making
Gravelly bitter, and sweet and sour.
The draconian brain empirical
Graveyard of all our Time
Lecherous vault of the leering dead
Reasoning all out of rhyme...
Ugliest rearing of fuzzy
old yellow heads
Affecting us in our deathless
Livid soil...nameless tombstones
the ephemeral
Life giving flowerbeds..
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
my childhood friend and I chilling out at her place. ..few days before Christmas. Sunny afternoon outside. Cool dark room. I blurt out I want to learn a Christmas carol. She sings well. I can't carry a tune if it's complicated. My brute of a buddy teases me to death about that but today she tells me I like the way you sing Abba's "I had a dream. It suits your voice" I'm so happy. And then we both start singing it together. My 13 year old friend and I are ecstatic. Things get better as she looks at me notices my joy and says so you want me to teach you a Christmas carol?
What a serene blissful afternoon that was. Singing and copying down musical notations for Joy to the world and then 500 miles
I sing these days to my children. Songs from once upon a childhood forever.
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
No parlez vous
No comprende
It's just a barrage a
Faux barricade
We talk at each other
And each of us carry
A "crazy" around
Ready to shoot verbiage
Gunning each other down...
Humankind-
So very unkind
Hiding behind magnanimous shields
Fulminating magnificent orgy of words
That stand up for ideas
Motions of emotions
Strikingly elegant
poseurs langorous
With effete langue
Malovolent malicious
Tittering tongues..
A babel.
A baby's drivel.
A babble of sheeple
A rabid rabble...
Hiding behind magnificent views
And mincing opinions like
Strong diced onions
Shedding tears of copious abundance
Meaning long forgotten.
Do we even listen to each
other?
When our own words are
mnemonic devices trigerring subliminal comfort zones
The proverbial music to our
Expectant ears?
The herd heard not.
They weren't really hard of hearing.
But
Hard hearted and soft in the head.
Humanity in need
Of humanitarian aid.
(Let them eat cake
If they don't have bread.)
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
Kings of Crossroads
The cosmic world of numbers
The beauty of the lake
My mind is a Window
In the house of God
His Most High creation
To partake.
I'm alternate reality
I'm the world view
No one else can see
Safe God through You
And through me
A wondrous mosaic
Of all conflicting courses
In prevalent unity.
Thy compound vision
Thy composite course
Creates and annihilates
And leaves human trace
Of each endeavor tracks
Of divinity enmeshed
In every convulsion
Of human minded flesh.
Oh my spirit take accept
I give it back
The gift forsake
For the Giver
Of the gift of life
For the cosmic cobweb that
Causes mind..
The deep space
Of this wishing well
What can be
Heaven
And
What can be hell
Both exist
Heal and he'll be back
To censure
Or take you off
Your torture rack
The Cross
Directional
Crossroads of
Universal whim
Kiss the hem
Of the milky way
Oh in the spiraling
Open arms of
The Cosmic King.
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
Hope is Our Soul...
Hope is soul
That takes on flesh
Life becoming
It's dwelling place
For a while
Temporal permanence
Where it seeks completion
And then flies off the coops
of immanence
Spirit indwelling
The temple of the soul
The body becoming more
Than the sum
Of the whole.
Spirit and flesh
Life and soul
Engendered upon
Time's drifting soil
To view this cosmos
This imagined space
Of numbers made
Real unreal
And the imaginary cells.
Oh the chart flows through the axes
Of ages
And imaginative swells and flurries of the birth of Will.
Gotterdammerung
Through
Ende der welt
It's all mind play
Its all lost and found
In the cosmic
Bang of the mental ground
The grind the crunch
The cyclic eternal bang
Shangri la
Our last mythical stand...
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
Paper Danse Macabre
Toss some ink on the paper
Tis your mind that's feeling blue
What gives me away is black on white
And its not so cruel, as it's true.
I trust my thoughts when written
Because I cannot take them back
And every teardrop written
Takes me off my torture rack.
I write and forget that I ever felt
I wrote and my words are instant wealth
It's a treasure tale of dark places inside my heart
That the head can't amputate, dissect or cut.
It's a putative start
When you rain with your pen
The outsourced pain a painting,
An artful stain;
On canvas where straight lines
Seem severe strange
But oh the crop circles, their convoluted encoded range!
Kill the feelings give them birth
The poet murders to create his art
Walking free when the battle ends
Driving out his grievous fiends.
And tell me reader how do you feel?
Did you find my feelings real?
How do I do you when I transmit hell?
Do I do it very well?
Read and rant your grief decant
My tears were shed so yours incant
Arise light my friend for pity's sake
Those who befriend sorrow
cannot bond with something fake.
And I bond with you over my hemlock drink
And into its gruesome lethe do we together sink
Leave each our own
treasure trove of tears untold...
Raise from lifeless page
Eyes freed anon,
to sun gaze upon the
Limpid gold...
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
Weekly Challenge
Thy guards call off
And for now
Fare well
In these woods
I shall not dwell
Upon this blessed
All Hallows eve
Rot in your stench
For I take thy leave.
Screech owl screech
But I'm beyond the reach
Across the corner
Is the magical bridge
That brought me hither
On a full moon night
a year since then
I am determined
To escape your dark wiles
Into the light
Ominous hoots the dark owls
Swoop
Down to warn me to stay my course
Their master still sleeps
In enchanted daze
I have learnt his mystic arts
And put him in a sleepy haze
Mother and father and lover forgotten
Since the day he charmed me
To the village well
And from there to follow the
Pretty gravel path
The road that led me to this darkest hell.
Where sun becomes an orange daytime blur
The colors of trees are lost in hot humid air
And eyes of basilisk shoot venomous glance
From every corner in a chilling trance
And the afternoon swoons in death's slimy coils
The birds fall asleep in its steamy roils
And everywhere can be heard a demonic gnashing
Lips smacking on frail ribs and ghastly crackling
Day in and day out and round about
My one year has cast me in eternal doubt
Of escape and return while your false hearth burns
And nightly roasts and spits in your gargoyle's gluttonous den
Safe tonight the blessed charm
Delivers me from eternal harm
From thy magic spell book
I did incant
And you're now in fast enchantment bound
Screech owl screech, hoot and wail
For I return with a village behind me
And nothing more shall remain of
this sordid tale
These ungodly woods beyond the wishing well
The path to it shall itself
Be razed to hell.
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
Mercurial Mermaids
The moon has jumped over the valley
The saffron field lit up
White dreamy scar tissue on the rise
And never could tell the truth from lies
Time froze its stopwatch
When I decided upon a dream
Till hell froze over my life would sail
Over fields of wheaten cream
Descendants in ascent
Shooters in the breeze
Falling asleep.
My old friend I saw your picture
overnight you became your
Mom
My dream was cupped in your flaming eyes
But your lips dont sip from dreamy founts no more
And I see you and turn away
I won't remind you of regrets
Regalia of Roses
You've chiseled
Your chosen life in stone
In mine water and air must wed
So stone wears coat of moisture
And the lifeless mermaid flips on the baffling beach
Slowly dying shedding dessicated fins
Dissipate my dewy dreams
Still I am steamily alive
More alive in the steaming lies
In lines of charcoal tears from
Mascara eyes
More alive my dear in my
Tender death
Than you
Up on your crystal hearth..
Ideal structured saline salt
Frozen waterfront of fantasy. .
This will be present
Till the day I die
To pay my dues
And live myself
To my utmost core
Nothing left
to preserve in funeral urns
No yen for living left to burn
Ashes all cold and
Dead dreams along with
Death must die.
Blue black shards of soft
Rosy fins
Deep underwater silhouetted
Sea dreams
Seeing eyes of silky mermaid beings
Seething beyond
Superficial understanding
Silence of the silver deep...
There are currents
Beyond mercy's keep
And there we flow
Flowers under the
Ocean floor
Forevermore.
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
Once upon a Halloween.
Candlelight on mosaic floor
A howling wind knocks on my creaky door
The handle turns,
Oh the candle burns!...
Into the last raging flame
Then a molten stub again.
I see no more.
Cold as oil your creeping veil
Makes me your bride
And I hear your spell
Whispered like doom's omen
Tonight forever I'm slain.
Weeping softly from afar
A childlike maddening crooning in my ear
The persistent background noise
Of a stubborn barking dog
suddenly it ceases
And then the cold hard knock!
I am a mass of dread jelly quivering
On the ground
What creeps upon me does so with no audible sound
Claws like serrated pincers upon my throat
I see my bloated corpse upon the ceiling float
And the moon makes such a flouncy fluid mirth
Frothing into silvery disjointed rays that birth
A beauty that dresses the ghoulish hideous night
Of my betrothal to the Daemon sprite.
The rites complete I spin into
A frozen blur
My mind scalped off the body of fear
The darkness descending in me complete
The candle at my feet , now relit
And the only other thing besides me is you
Of leering mien and rubicund hue
Swarthy hirsute limbs entwined in mine
The stench of odorous talons soaked in my blood now thine
My last flickering light of sanity
Extinguished
As walls of flame leap into tongues
That jeer and hiss
Embracing darkness I am reborn
Into this
Never ending nightmare of
Tenebris.
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
Somedays
Someday I will write my greatest poem yet
That's the promise I keep making to myself
For each trashy pedantic piece of litany I keep pouring out
As if my heart were so easy
So brazenly cheap.
Self valuation is a fine art taught early on
By loving hearts in whose bosoms you forever rest
If you've never learnt it you will
Sell yourself
Shorter than the night before
Your scheduled heart break.
Because you plan your own doom
When you sell yourself short
It's a post dated cheque and
that's all you've got
But when you walk away from the world returning into yourself
Your heart beats its proudest in
forlorn state.
True hearts never need to feel ashamed
Their love is their highest stock and its value sets them apart
You cannot bid for what's not on the marketplace
You can only win the love of a self aware heart.
By knowing how love works
Through merciful care
Risking your own
becomes its loveliest dare
Rose petal soft yet stiff as a thorn
This heart resides in your love when
You dwell upon
Only the one.
So meanwhile...
my poems pour out in all shapes and size
With many a boring platitude and a few white lies
That lay waste my days and shame my nights
But my heart knows itself in every
secret sigh.
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
Too many Hollywood movies. Too many depictions of invincible macho war machines.
Keanu Reeves aka Neo the Chosen One for example, or the one man army of Arnold Schwarzenegger aka Terminator.
Single handedly responsible for the salvation of the human race or something like that.
People especially Americans have started swallowing the fairy tale of the mythic hero who saves his family and homestead from the guns of the invaders the villainous corrupt government the borderline lunatics on the fringes of society.
How will they do so? Um...through purchase of guns of course. And of course they need those sophisticated assault weapons just in case it's the corrupt government they have to contend with. ...presumably on Armageddon day.
I can almost envisage the apocalyptic scenes that flash through those drive in movie minds.
A core Christian belief in the End of Days (where the angels blow trumpets of doom), coupled with the fear of a renegade US government turning upon its oen poor huddled masses, and boom!
We're against Gun Control because we need guns to protect ourselves.
Never mind that however many sophisticated weapons you buy, to the US army your arsenal will look like a toy shop.
And the people who profit making weapons for mass consumption and mass destruction will rake in money with their blood stained claws. Laughing all the way to the bank.
Most men post their reasons for justifying gun possession on social media as "I will die protecting my women and children and my home with my finger on the trigger, God bless America!"
You know what? If it's really the Government that turns rogue, then yes You will die. And leave behind orphans and widows because your weapons won't be a match for trained warriorswith their firepower.
Unless you really are a cybernetic organism or Mr. Faster-than-thought Anderson.
The real service that you could provide your women and children would be to tirelessly campaign for legislation limiting government powers, putting caps on defence spending and yes enforcing strict gun control.
That would quickly take care of all the lunatics who want to walk into schools movie theatres and churches and take down as many as they can in a mass decimation, before they can complete
their personal suicide missions.
Yes don't laugh American heros, or wannabes, each time you mouth off about how you'll protect your families with guns if necessary you're also only mentally enacting personal suicide missions.
A far better service to your families and nations would be to do the more difficult less adrenalin stirring thing. Use your brains neurons firing till the last cells go kaput and not your laughably limited brawn.
You might find brain cells don't die in vain but leave behind pathways and associated networks for others to follow. True heroes are not Greek gods with bulging six packs but those who hone their minds to cut through what the opposition purposely puts up...
Veils of dissimulation.
I'm Indian. Yes we're not allowed to possess guns by our corrupt and twisted government.
But you know what? At least for that one mercy I thank them.
It means guns are equally hard to come by for our local nut jobs who want to walk into my sons schools and spill some fresh kindergarten blood.
And the mentally ill exist in every society and indeed they won't go away.
But guns can and should if you say you're civilized and the oen is your only sword.
I write this because even at this great distance of space and now sadly time,
I renember spending Christmas Day crying for the innocents of Sandy Hook.
As a family we couldn't stop each time we looked at our two laughing toddlers rolling on the floor in joy secure in their parents protection.
And then watching amazed while the so called Superpower of the First World pussyfooted around the powerful defence dealers and gun lobbyists and showed that they're utterly helpless to enforce strong measures.
Guns they won't protect you.
Against an organized and paid police force or militia.
Against the lawbreakers and lunatics, well you won't need them to, if they're totally deprived and stripped of the opportunity to possess guns too.
Sale of firearms for mass consumption and the ballooning growth of a profit making industry on it's shoulders is what has to be stopped. Because greed is the reason for the perpetuation of evil. Greed and political cowardice and mass hypnosis birthing megalomania.
Guns will not ultimately empower.
But mass protests using the power of your united votes, campaigning for comprehensive legislation and imposing sanctions on the gun industry ousting them fully from civilian spheres will .
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
My essence is in search
Constantly craving
Communication commonality
Continuity commitment.
Communication
Breaks down
Commonality becomes
Commonplace
Continuity enforced into monotony
Wears thin frayed patience...
Breaching the fortress
Commitment.
Rickety rails
Jump off and fly
Off the ground
Never look back
At the ground
Fall into grace
And learn to know
To love your place.
I need to
Pause and erase it
The mind rebels
Against habitual newsfeed
Reeled in
Canonical free will
Which is indoctrination
Subtle.
Grace is sublime
Kindled courage
Not resignation
And grace resides
In its fervor.
I'm Venus
Unafraid
Mars cold solitary
Sadly seduced
So reduced
A vehement red ruby
Of venom
Spluttering
Blustering
Adamant.
Women
Rebels without
Orbits
Spinning wild
Into ruthless solitaires
Feminine and
Fortuitous.
Matchless majestic
Peerless
Humility
Above
Hubris.
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
Randy Nii your accidental phrase "love is a lifeline" brought about this poem.
Futility
Love is a lifeline
Love is a palm sign
Mapping alignments
Between star studded cosmos
Spinning above us
A galactic waxing
And waning
Of incomprehensible design.
Love is a lifeline
Baby show me your soft palms
I will make note of your address
Final destination's sad trace
Maybe you and I
We'll lose each other
It's okay
Nothing in our greedy hands
The archway pre engineered
Your mind only inclines
Stellar axes determine.
Love is a life line
Walk away from divination's
Website
The spin of your fortune
The lamellated cast moon
Will lift you, leap and soar
But you fall cold stardust
Weighed down by saggy
motions.
Love is a lifeline
Fragile rosy etched fine
Elegantly striking out through
plains and valleys and deftly
Turning back at mountains
To destroy your creation
Yoked to
Ephemeral emotions
Love is a lifeline
Taken at the floodgates
Flushfaced by four aces
Whirlpool down the drab drain.
You will fall into a deep place
Murderous poppy fields
Hack at your space
Bring eternal sleep
As days turn darker
Heralding great night
Love ends in perfect alignment
Imperfect destiny
Fulfilled flawless.
This love is just
a faint delicate line
Drunken daisies joining hands
In feeble chains of futile
Conspiracy.
My fallacious malicious
Lifeline.
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
Dark
Shadow life
Empty world
Ugly mind
Oh my pretty child.
I gave to you
The gift of life
I was supposed to be
The bringer of light
But the heart
Of a would-be
Best mother
Encounters the poisonous
daily failures
Of being a good wife
And you can be both,
I think it's's easier to be
But being only the one,
Can take the toll
The ugly price
Of disunity.
Loss of peace
Ever watchful unease
In this crowded
Cowed down mind
Where fear holds
Unending lease.
My room is in shadows
And I see sharp slippery shapes
Of inner demons
As they stride my walls
Straddle my mind
My soul possess.
So easy is it
To devalue dismiss
Souls lost and scorned
Never finding a niche.
This horrific cold darkness
This loathsome lost night
Etched in my being
But I still weep and fight.
And my eyes always glisten dark
With the hope I can teach
Hold tight on to belief.
That you'll find your highest altitude
and if you can't you'll still be good
My darling it will be alright.
There's no where to go
My child
So always
Towards the light.
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
I haven't succeeded
I haven't bled
Bruised black and blue
But I always fled
The consequences
I have a need
An impossible greed
An impotent desire
To succeed.
I haven't been me
I haven't lived me
I haven't listened
To my innermost me.
And you can't dream
the beauty it said
How it begged to be bled
The happiness it promised
if only,
I hadn't,
I hadn't fled.
(c) Amrita Valan 2015
