Thank You

A longish one. The Valentine's Day streak continues.🤔

You make me want to make belief
To write
To love
I feel relief.

You make me wish
And wish to weep
You make me
Understand
Just what I need.

And,
I need to feel free,
Like blue skies endlessly
Migrating with the winds.
The lightness,
Of fluid loneliness
birds in gossamer flight
Beating God's gift,
Eternal wings.

And I need to feel
This vertigo
To cartwheel
Heads over heels
Dance with you in
Singing flame
To kiss your
Errant breeze.

No ecstasy
Unless we learn
To burn the pain
In comeliest of clay crucibles,
Ashes of moth wings
On candle flame
Our ardor invisible.

To bear with courage
Caterpillar years
Believing butterfly days
Ever drawing near.

Dragon Heartstrings
To guard our tale
And flashing victory
Our diamondback tail
Cauda Draconis
Signifier
That all is well.

This awkward wayward moment
But
A waiting room,
A wonderful wayside inn,
A hidden grove,
A secret garden,
A breathing space
Before everlasting
Wonders
Close in
To end this race,
In an all engulfing
Eternity ring...
Thank you
For this morning's
Beguiling wings.

I love how
You show me
This way to feel,
I love your
Magical mirroring.

At the brink
Of bottomless wells
of connecting ripples
Mimosa pits
Of mysteries.

You spell bind me,
Come blindfold me,
Eyes wide shut
Against dull mindless
Machinations,
The flow of mildewed minutes
Floating around mundane
Cesspools
Chaotic murderous
Dead seas.

Thank you for whispering
December's deceptions
The endless tease
Of summer love,
Somewhere,
Somehow,
Sometime...

Someplace else
Waxing, waning
Warming,
Waiting, silence,
In the
Silver dappled breeze.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017

Je m'excuse. Je m'en fous.

This man
The cause of all my angst
The fount of new found poetry
Resurrection against grief
This man
So limited in his constructs
Fights the big question down
By immersion in the mundane
He hears not the music
Of speculation
But the music of
Capitulation
And wistful resignation
His heart so dead
To pleas unspoken
His head so alive
With rights reserved
For him
His unjust dues
Sullenly claimed.

And I love
Him.
For it's Brave
To be ordinary.
It's beautiful
To accept
Reality.

And still love
Like there's no
Tomorrow.

Because
By the way
There isn't.

And
I hate him
For stealing
My Hope.

For though all ways
Must lead to
Rome
The path matters
As much as
The goal.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017

Belated Best Wishes

Belated Best Wishes

Flowers pressed and dried in diaries
Diaries drying time for memories
Dusty revelations on high and dry shelves
And plucky peacock feather
Pressed in plastic album
Recalls butterfly days
Of designing fair game.

Those old arias
Those shallow trivia
Testing depths of waters
On erstwhile valentine's days
Musty smell of illegal romance
On the sly
The heartbreak and hunger
The good old fashioned cry
Holding silly sentimental plaques
Gifts of Godot
Who never came.
I am in love
Not with you
You
Or You
Troubadours of
Troubled times
But with those namesakes
And keepsakes
Don Quixote and Don Juan
Of Beefy  Byronic memoirs
Bereft of gory bloodletting
But tracking the traces
Of tears
Under resolute eye lashes.

Youthful Dulcineas
Dilly dallying
By the edge of borderline
Romances
Rallying their spirits
When the decanters run dry
But old music still
Softly woos and plays.

Must I insist,
Then.
For all of you Eves out there
Who bravely partook the fruit
Of knowledge,
Happy Valentine's Day?

(c) Amrita Valan 2017

Smoke on My Water

Smoke on My Water
Unsure hands
Broken gesture
Thankless lips
Unspoken prayer
Secretive mein
Futile clench
Scrunched up hands
Hostage heart
Caught in
No man's land.

Where would you go?
How could you stay?
when home isn't an address
It's a too real
Virtual place.

The soul vampyres
Are calling
They'll only suck your flesh
Imprisoned essence
In vital mesh.

Curl up
Die hard
Live large
Laugh loud
As you like

When life calls
Your bluff,
You go like snuff
Out on the third strike.

The sorry cards you were dealt
Lie broke back,
On the flat lining table
Baby whore of Babylon
Smile sable smooth
Sift smoke
On holy water
Like only are able.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017

Maddeningly...

She troops
She lopes
She stoops
She turns the corner.

And stops
Still as a panther
On leaf dappled branch
Sunlight glints
Through blue ventricles
What a sapphire studded
Hunch.

Aeolus calling
Shallow air breathing soul
Inhale deeply
Exhale steeply
Answer
If only you're whole

I can hear you laughing
The call of the wind
Carries my name
I can hear you stifling
All my claims
To feel this pain
In this soft sweet perfumed breeze
Hidden secret memories
Launch with ease
Seeking shelter
Wanton wanderings
Rental tease
Oh your copious call
This fool will please.

I can hear you laughing
You Mad God of men

I think my absolution
Upon the lips of fame

Can you please
Perhaps let me know
If my call was heard
Was it absurd enough
To bear fecund fruit?

The balmy salve
The calm repose
Of her Feline form
Crackles electric upon
The blue boughs of
Sparkling morn.

She will not wait
The answer
Eludes her.

This catwalk,
This hunger,
delusional, depraved,
In Sinuous motions
Tortuous notions,
Strangling hope
Taut agony gropes
For frailest footing.

Slender Mahogany
Golden ebony
Dancing in the breeze
Of tomorrow.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017

Victor

Slender golden
Vicarious victor
In man's image
God shines
Bizzare upon heathen
And believer alike.

Brow beaten
Ugly wreath
I can sense
Ugly breath
Ugly wrath
I can hear
Ugly roars
Of Jubilant beasts.

While slender white
Beautiful flesh
A flower of mankind
Is crucified.

What wilts upon this cross?
So abject in dejection?
Who hides his wan face
So crestfallen?
Whose pallid lips have blood blooms deserted?
While roses of defeat secretes upon
Palms of pain?

Heinous murder
Of the Lamb of God,
I hear a murmur,
Of murder
Ancient ghosts in the air
And the depth of this
Poisoned Grail
Runs deep
Seeps within my blood
Mottled veins
Where music dreams...

...His prayer.

Forgive them
Who know not.
What They do.

Sweet sad words
Of absolution.
Strangest rejuvenation
Of men

My blood circling
Through the circas
Curdles...
I cannot see
This gentile
This heathen Philistine
This heart hardened
In a clench of steel
I cannot hear
The healing.

Tear Laden eyes
Heavy with dreams
Of dubious dutiful
Mankind.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017

The Belief

This gentle Jew
This docile flower
Sprung from the wailing  desert walls
of age old Jerusalem.

This man so maimed
Blossoming blood
Into miraculous beliefs.

Galilean... Nazarene.
Urging us on
To peace
Through purgation
The catharsis
Of blood.

His Father's business
Needed handling
Upon rough hewn Cross
His death bed he bore
And straddling an entire world
He stood watch
Through the dim darkling hours.

And forevermore fostered
Tales and parables of
His glory.

To fascinate little lives
Such as ours
Titillating us
With walks upon water
And water turning into wine.

The point being

We still needed
Proof
Before
We could learn
To wonder.

I believe
I believe
Miracles are not
Providence
Nor endorsed by
Mankind.

I believe that
Faith
Is the product
Of Goodness
And the horrid sordid price
It pays.

May your phoenix
Forever soar
Forevermore upon the ashes
Of humans
Immortalized by their belief
In Divinity.

Ardent, steadfast,
Derivative.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017