bold

Going through us brings
Forth the lids of our past
Lives shut. Our joints
Are willing less than before
But our poised backs are
No longer leaning backward.
In our
Distant torsos we are free from
Each other's wise tale.
Resurrected freedom will
Tear our stubborn apart and
Continue to fill our voided dreams
With fearless eyes and beating
Breathing hearts;
Solitude us.
I am bold in you and italicized
By your needs.

Her here

You are the only tunnel
Im good at going through
And hiding in.
My everything lies in you at the
Same time that is lays in your
Frequency arms.
I am in me
At my most without breaks

Without breaking the thought of
Me I am in my most me.
An absolute of us
In picturesque freedom
A minute of solitude between
Us is an eternal rupture
In my inner goddess;
I need your prelude
To become my antidote.
I'm waiting and I'm
Leaving this me
Here with her.

Garden of Her

the epic of your tone the purity
in your senses; raw
skin glistening with
freedom wilderness
as it craves hope and
open eyed windows.

less than your fingertips
underneath
your painful cures
the healing stills the
intuitive repairs.
let the trees find your beneath
let them crawl into your flying

begin to feel the empty
rose growing sideways on your
sex; and wandering eyes
will begin to dance on your instants.
don't leave this photographs'
universe because the sky will masquerade
the melting scars of your hidden breathes
before you see your art.

branches of your passion are opaque and
eyes are filling the thunder’s aging.

finger painted tattoos swallowing the outsides
of your fair skin; for these words.
crippled hair and
artist palms;
they all danced around the coveted
falling. 
they danced because the ether
wrote it's life on your tight wrists
and your together forever just
began.

the season beneath you has eroded
the helpless tree branches.
the braces of your tears tore
freedom smiles and all the while
you laid sleeping inside your
black voided collar bone;

yet there,
you blossomed.

empty eyes and the floor is undone;

you are inkless

you are a blank canvas

you are your own

beautiful emptiness.

Photography by: Angelo Pullen and Rainbow Francks

Model/Subject/Inspiration : Alissa Powell

Blackbird

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free

Blackbird fly, blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night

Blackbird fly, blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise"
-John Lennon

i will fall in places I fell before;

your side profile where
cage doors were always open.

And we always trusted the
Shadow’s soul to guide us
Into the abyss of our
Negligence the apt of our
Limitless.

We are freedom
Before we sing and we
Are the night that clipped
Our own wings.

We are the night that
Grew new wings and fly higher
Towards our sky

We are the spaces in the cage;
Inside them we are free

This is what you shall do..

A truth;

Entire

I was holding his eyes in my palms
before I met you. I was blackned skin
before you touched me and I was
forgotten and remembered before
you realized I carried your
us.Forever was a long time when
We met each other’s eyes;
I am stillness truth in this
Library of our dysfunctions.
Rectify my blue and rest in me.
I fight with my shadow and your
warm heart was always there.
your possession of me makes me
living freedom.
I found me in you again and nothing
but everything can move us a part.

we are not a thing we are an us.
we are nothing we are the soul.
we are dying daily and falling in love.

Gone

Your blank soul reminded me of why

I imagined in the first place;

I am laying on your back while

You neglect my swollen torso;

Because you were always right.

I held on for so long and didn’t

Break my palms waiting for the rain.

I cannot be changed

And the concrete heart beats

Inside this tunnel has turned

Into blackened nothings.

You are my everything in everything

And still;

You break this poem into places

Into blank faces into crying pens

Without a fragrance.

I cannot be changed in your senses

I cannot be changed in your senses.

Break open my wall and listen

To my concrete heart beating;

I became stubborn in your gone.

"The Lost Art of Letter Writing"

The ratio of daylight to handwriting

Was the same as lacemaking to eyesight.

The paper was so thin it skinned air.
The hand was fire and the page tinder.
Everything burned away except the one
Place they singled out between fingers
Held over a letter pad they set aside
For the long evenings of their leave-takings,
Always asking after what they kept losing,
Always performing—even when a shadow
Fell across the page and they knew the answer
Was not forthcoming—the same action:
First the leaning down, the pen becoming
A staff to walk fields with as they vanished
Underfoot into memory. Then the letting up,
The lighter stroke, which brought back
Cranesbill and thistle, a bicycle wheel
Rusting: an iron circle hurting the grass
Again and the hedges veiled in hawthorn
Again just in time for the May Novenas
Recited in sweet air on a road leading
To another road, then another one, widening
To a motorway with four lanes, ending in
A new town on the edge of a city
They will never see. And if we say
An art is lost when it no longer knows
How to teach a sorrow to speak, come, see
The way we lost it: stacking letters in the attic,
Going downstairs so as not to listen to
The fields stirring at night as they became
Memory and in the morning as they became
Ink; what we did so as not to hear them
Whispering the only question they knew
By heart, the only one they learned from all
Those epistles of air and unreachable distance,
How to ask: is it still there?

By: Eavan Boland

Longing

"I long to escape the prison of my ego and lose myself in you. "
-The Sufis

Waiting

And I could not wait

Write in remorse;

I have no remorse.

I have horses that run free

Alongside our dream of a dreaming

Vacancy the stars all smiled in

Effortless pain.

We became alive in our midnight

And the stubborn of our broken

Lights fell asleep holding your back.

Last night I held me straight while

You held me whole.

Alive in depth

I like when you highlight me

With blue rain

with blue rain with rain

That fakes its death.

I am pronounced breathless

At your knees and wherever you

May take this unattached feather

Is up to the sky;

Limitless freedom.

Etched

In timeless unity it keeps

Coming back to me with open arms.

I never closed the door before

I never closed this door after.

Perhaps we were showing ourselves

In the afterworld.

This is why you are my

Everything in everything.

Rumi

"When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.”
― Rumi

Apart

Renounce my forever

I am secluded in your pearls and I am

Awake in your petals.

I am forgiving in your you.

There are no more vacancies

In this future; our worded will

Become mute and stars

Will shine brighter

Tomorrow morning.

I felt you and I thought it

Was a dream; I woke up

And saw you in purple

Pants waiting for the rain.

The ocean becomes us

And we fail against

Its electric tides.

We

Wash away our knowing pasts

We distance this sentence

And

Make

Nothing less of the page.

Osho

breathe in...breathe out


“I'm simply saying that there is a way to be sane. I'm saying that you can get rid of all this insanity created by the past in you. Just by being a simple witness of your thought processes. 

It is simply sitting silently, witnessing the thoughts, passing before you. Just witnessing, not interfering not even judging, because the moment you judge you have lost the pure witness. The moment you say “this is good, this is bad,” you have already jumped onto the thought process. 

It takes a little time to create a gap between the witness and the mind. Once the gap is there, you are in for a great surprise, that you are not the mind, that you are the witness, a watcher. 

And this process of watching is the very alchemy of real religion. Because as you become more and more deeply rooted in witnessing, thoughts start disappearing. You are, but the mind is utterly empty.

That’s the moment of enlightenment. That is the moment that you become for the first time an unconditioned, sane, really free human being.” 

- Osho

Steel eyes

You inspired me

Till yesterday and tomorrow

It rained as hard as you hugged

Me. your grief once strangled me

And left me alone with

Grey tears and broken giraffes

Stubborn feet and fading

Hands.

Let my body guide

You let my back soothe your

Wind

let my neck hold

My woman so that we can

Watch the spirit world

In matrimony.

Disappearing upward

Feathers of pasteurized

Stealth weighing down with

My course lips;

These materials are

Disappearing inside my morning

And your night is all I want to

Remember. Fingers pealing

Back all that we pulled

Together and in our apart

My song was blind.

While you court my distance

These fingertips trembled

And the sky thundered morning;

We flew at the same time.

Stranger in my mine

and as she holds her rosery
I am condemned to her
knowing our truth apart.
because I am outside of you
and the window is quiet in
both of our travels.
The thought of not thinking.
Of you and the thought of
Not writing inside this thought;
Poetry death.
Poetic infidelity poetic
Dreamers are dreaming through
Our nameless thoughts.
Come closer to me and
Hear the senses of our past
Nuanciate with our now.
they all find their reason
on his distracting skies
they all paint their
highs they all paint
their many lives.
and I am powerful and
you are my thoughts.
I am powerful and you
are inside me.

Stained

Written in you for a while

Now and the missing letters

Are now floating above where

We used to fly.

Freedom in your eyes and

Disciplined in your upper chin;

We decided to be here.

I will fall in your arms and

The heights will follow us into this

Stapled Abyss and our morning routine

Will dance to that choreographed

In love with love. The writing of

Our us

Finally yours

Diseased pain was

Our reasons for not

Needing anymore reasons.

I am covered in your heat

And beats off of your velvet

Ocean are crying in our us.

Fevering to see how

This will bleed. How this will

Be my extreme void in

Your suddenly here and

Absolute. The endless of

Our beautiful destruction

Leads to your withering

And my  quietude demands

This glistening eye to harden

To free itself to grow apart

From this material. To be and

to be and I am yours to be.

Inside out

forming inside the walls
of my vacancy the travelling
submerges into our substance
unknown. it waves with my
longer torso than supposes
into the supposed.
if wondering who I am
was yours to keep
I am complete in your void.
I am absolute in your title
I am in awe and I am perched
off freedom's rain. 
I've closed us in you
we in me I've married the one.
I'm climbing these cliffs
Because the mountain
swollows me into nothing
I'm am less of me in all of me
Because you are inside of me.
When you were planning me I was
Letting go of you.
While holding your tilted
Future I decide you as I decide
Me. you are sublime
In my effortless and i am
Hardened in your
Invisible cartilage.
You are the divine in
Me and I am the secrets of
Your dreaming.

Beautiful

"Beautiful things don't ask for attention"

-The Secret Life of Walter Mitty

Snow leopards (Panthera uncia) are one of the most enigmatic wild cats. They live and travel in solitude over vast distances of isolated and rugged mountain range in central Asia, and are supremely adapted to thrive in some of the harshest conditions on the planet. Adding to their elusive nature, snow leopards are the one big cat that cannot roar. Seldom observed in the wild, or at best a fleeting apparition, snow leopards have appropriately earned the title ‘Ghost of the mountains’.

Magic and magic

“Music is the strongest form of magic” Marylyn Manson
“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it.”  Roald Dahl
“The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do it.” J.M Barrie
“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”  W.B. Yeats

I will be broken in your
pieces and nightfall will
evoke our silent silver hearts.
I wrote you to many places
And when the morning grew
Its dewy wings we collapsed
With its’ stagnant winds.
Pressing my fingers against
Your wicked time the
Fingertips of these capital vows
Release our dusted wings.
You were always here
But today I touched me
As I touched you and dull
Lights spoke music.
Spoke magic.
speaking and singing and living
through magic.
And I keep
Breathing
keep taking your
Breathe taking my breathe
And Keep breathing you inside
all this magic. again and
again and in lowercase
again.

My one eye

Distant patterns across

My face and your eyes start

Sewing their tough stains

With background tears.

You diluted my arms

With plastic but I wanted

Your freedom in me.

You won’t swallow the

Suddenly because the past

becomes

Your breath your air

your reason to love to hate

the cells of this white page.

Your last day with

Me will be our first;

The law in you revisits

Our freedom memoirs.

Salvation and purity blowing

Your eyes away with me

Growing your light

Inside of me.

Subdued by our malice

We pretended void all

While filling our empty

Hearts with this poem’s

Breaks; poetry for you

Because your soul is

Mine. Not me but mine.

Dear Earth

omniscient
and his fearless toes
seeped
literature in my window's
cell. captured a forest
and enjoined bowing prostrations
in a whole filled heart.
so the great white dane
wraps a rope
in appetite colors;
mistfits.
traped walls over my senseless
slippers. gratitude dwells
over his eyes afar from own
self.
in contempt i fly with altered
wings to condemn a million
suicidal appraisals.
muscular eyes give
me strength to close the
meaningless gatherings
and die awake.
seasons
change and we're
growing
along their thin’ glaciers.
tight rimmed
fairies punctuate the breastfed
papers into dreams of a shadow
temple.
because seasons
change my tears to dust
to grassroots
sunlight
within me
contempt me
forbid me.
embrace our
light
collect our falling
protect my swelling
and
masturbate your layers with
subject palms
until
your ground earth tastes
us.
dancing blue cosmic healer
present your golden whispers
along my glory spine.
whiskers of a foreign
protagonist irritate
me no longer.
breathless anecdote
startles my nightmare
in fuchsia forest’s greenery.
we are promiscuous and hopeful.
plastic forks beneath a white
blouse in a happiness toned
mimicked life.
broken mirror;
i am yours
i am yours
i am yours
springing fortune teller
Wrap me in your green
And I'll remind me i was
Always yours.

To meet you

I can’t wait to meet you

To see you to hold you to

Watch you watch me for the first

Time. To hear you to

Laugh with your eyes and

Smile with your heartbeat.

To dream with your silk

Palms and wake up to

Your sweetened breathes.

I’ve filled rooms in my soul

With all your emotions, your

Character your needing your

Wanting ; because this is your

Home.

I am here with you.

I have already died for you.

I will surround you and guide

You help you learn all

Your past lives and future colors.

I’ve already walked with you

Through my favourite streets

And pointed out the humanity

Of our world.

I’ve already kissed you goodbye

And then told you not to go

Yet.

I’ve already led you to your first

Experience where you returned

To me with fearless freedom.

I’ve already let you climb on my lap

To help me with your surprise birthday cake.

Because there are no secrets between us.

Our hearts are all one today

And today is now our forever.

I close my eyes and see it all

Loving our one

Loving our growth.

I've memorized our soul;

But I still can't wait

to meet you.

Inside us

Disappearing bleeding

Commanding your obscene

Clouded eyes to close

So that I can awaken us again;

Deemed by your broken

Hands I am surrendering

my whole.

Gypsy tyrant stealing my

Worded eyes my eyes

Of wonder my freedom

My spirit my running horse

Beyond your coarse veins.

It does Not matter where I

am or where you hide

I will always find you and hold

You with indigo fonts.

nurture you with young

Horizons and distilled tears;

Because I want you to see

That I never left you.

I live for you. I built

Dames inside your eyes.

Make me broaden your

Wanted so that our worlds can

Speak to the other while

Silencing our crown.

Slicing into my heart beats

That never made it out of

Your steam;

Separation flooding the

Crying of this semi colon

This break in this poem was

Your gift to me.

So now in our horizon

Her veil uncovers her heart

And the serendipity of this

Page laughs freedom.

Freedom

I am in favor of animal rights as well as human rights. That is the way of a whole human being.
– Abraham Lincoln
 
Deliberate cruelty to our defenseless and beautiful little cousins is surely one of the meanest and most detestable vices of which a human being can be guilty.
– William Ralph Inge

 
All beings tremble before violence. 
All fear death, all love life. See 
yourself in others. Then whom can 
you hurt? What harm can you do?

– Buddha

 
If having a soul means being able to feel love and loyalty and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans.
— James Herriot

 
Life is as dear to a mute creature as it is to man. Just as one wants happiness and fears pain, just as one wants to live and not die, so do other creatures. – His Holiness The Dalai Lama

 
Life is life – whether in a cat, or dog or man. There is no difference there between a cat or a man. The idea of difference is a human conception for man’s own advantage.
– Sri Aurobindo

 

Poor animals! How jealously they guard their pathetic bodies…that which to us is merely an evening’s meal, but to them is life itself.
– T. Casey Brennan

 

A man can live and be healthy without killing animals for food; therefore, if he eats meat, he participates in taking animal life merely for the sake of his appetite.
– Leo Tolstoy

 

The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.
– Mohandas K. Gandhi

 
If a man aspires towards a righteous life, his first act of abstinence is from injury to animals.”
– Albert Einstein

It is just like man’s vanity and impertinence to call an animal dumb because it is dumb to his dull perceptions.
– Mark Twain

The most inspiring conversation

I wish I was in this room....

EINSTEIN: Do you believe in the Divine as isolated from the world?

TAGORE: Not isolated. The infinite personality of Man comprehends the Universe. There cannot be anything that cannot be subsumed by the human personality, and this proves that the Truth of the Universe is human Truth.

I have taken a scientific fact to explain this — Matter is composed of protons and electrons, with gaps between them; but matter may seem to be solid. Similarly humanity is composed of individuals, yet they have their interconnection of human relationship, which gives living unity to man’s world. The entire universe is linked up with us in a similar manner, it is a human universe. I have pursued this thought through art, literature and the religious consciousness of man.

EINSTEIN: There are two different conceptions about the nature of the universe: (1) The world as a unity dependent on humanity. (2) The world as a reality independent of the human factor.

TAGORE: When our universe is in harmony with Man, the eternal, we know it as Truth, we feel it as beauty.

EINSTEIN: This is the purely human conception of the universe.

TAGORE: There can be no other conception. This world is a human world — the scientific view of it is also that of the scientific man. There is some standard of reason and enjoyment which gives it Truth, the standard of the Eternal Man whose experiences are through our experiences.

EINSTEIN: This is a realization of the human entity.

TAGORE: Yes, one eternal entity. We have to realize it through our emotions and activities. We realized the Supreme Man who has no individual limitations through our limitations. Science is concerned with that which is not confined to individuals; it is the impersonal human world of Truths. Religion realizes these Truths and links them up with our deeper needs; our individual consciousness of Truth gains universal significance. Religion applies values to Truth, and we know this Truth as good through our own harmony with it.

EINSTEIN: Truth, then, or Beauty is not independent of Man?

TAGORE: No.

EINSTEIN: If there would be no human beings any more, the Apollo of Belvedere would no longer be beautiful.

TAGORE: No.

EINSTEIN: I agree with regard to this conception of Beauty, but not with regard to Truth.

TAGORE: Why not? Truth is realized through man.

EINSTEIN: I cannot prove that my conception is right, but that is my religion.

TAGORE: Beauty is in the ideal of perfect harmony which is in the Universal Being; Truth the perfect comprehension of the Universal Mind. We individuals approach it through our own mistakes and blunders, through our accumulated experiences, through our illumined consciousness — how, otherwise, can we know Truth?

EINSTEIN: I cannot prove scientifically that Truth must be conceived as a Truth that is valid independent of humanity; but I believe it firmly. I believe, for instance, that the Pythagorean theorem in geometry states something that is approximately true, independent of the existence of man. Anyway, if there is a reality independent of man, there is also a Truth relative to this reality; and in the same way the negation of the first engenders a negation of the existence of the latter.

TAGORE: Truth, which is one with the Universal Being, must essentially be human, otherwise whatever we individuals realize as true can never be called truth – at least the Truth which is described as scientific and which only can be reached through the process of logic, in other words, by an organ of thoughts which is human. According to Indian Philosophy there is Brahman, the absolute Truth, which cannot be conceived by the isolation of the individual mind or described by words but can only be realized by completely merging the individual in its infinity. But such a Truth cannot belong to Science. The nature of Truth which we are discussing is an appearance – that is to say, what appears to be true to the human mind and therefore is human, and may be called maya or illusion.

EINSTEIN: So according to your conception, which may be the Indian conception, it is not the illusion of the individual, but of humanity as a whole.

TAGORE: The species also belongs to a unity, to humanity. Therefore the entire human mind realizes Truth; the Indian or the European mind meet in a common realization.

EINSTEIN: The word species is used in German for all human beings, as a matter of fact, even the apes and the frogs would belong to it.

TAGORE: In science we go through the discipline of eliminating the personal limitations of our individual minds and thus reach that comprehension of Truth which is in the mind of the Universal Man.

EINSTEIN: The problem begins whether Truth is independent of our consciousness.

TAGORE: What we call truth lies in the rational harmony between the subjective and objective aspects of reality, both of which belong to the super-personal man.

EINSTEIN: Even in our everyday life we feel compelled to ascribe a reality independent of man to the objects we use. We do this to connect the experiences of our senses in a reasonable way. For instance, if nobody is in this house, yet that table remains where it is.

TAGORE: Yes, it remains outside the individual mind, but not the universal mind. The table which I perceive is perceptible by the same kind of consciousness which I possess.

EINSTEIN: If nobody would be in the house the table would exist all the same — but this is already illegitimate from your point of view — because we cannot explain what it means that the table is there, independently of us.

Our natural point of view in regard to the existence of truth apart from humanity cannot be explained or proved, but it is a belief which nobody can lack — no primitive beings even. We attribute to Truth a super-human objectivity; it is indispensable for us, this reality which is independent of our existence and our experience and our mind — though we cannot say what it means.

TAGORE: Science has proved that the table as a solid object is an appearance and therefore that which the human mind perceives as a table would not exist if that mind were naught. At the same time it must be admitted that the fact, that the ultimate physical reality is nothing but a multitude of separate revolving centres of electric force, also belongs to the human mind.

In the apprehension of Truth there is an eternal conflict between the universal human mind and the same mind confined in the individual. The perpetual process of reconciliation is being carried on in our science, philosophy, in our ethics. In any case, if there be any Truth absolutely unrelated to humanity then for us it is absolutely non-existing.

It is not difficult to imagine a mind to which the sequence of things happens not in space but only in time like the sequence of notes in music. For such a mind such conception of reality is akin to the musical reality in which Pythagorean geometry can have no meaning. There is the reality of paper, infinitely different from the reality of literature. For the kind of mind possessed by the moth which eats that paper literature is absolutely non-existent, yet for Man’s mind literature has a greater value of Truth than the paper itself. In a similar manner if there be some Truth which has no sensuous or rational relation to the human mind, it will ever remain as nothing so long as we remain human beings.

EINSTEIN: Then I am more religious than you are!

TAGORE: My religion is in the reconciliation of the Super-personal Man, the universal human spirit, in my own individual being.

Dear words; I live for you

and the typewriter;
its' published
lover.
yawn of the blender combining
new possibilities of written
already.
innocent behaviour sheds a tear
in moans:
a lovers' epic tale of breathes taken
fast. slow purpose jackets
around their stealth pine heat.
tree theme depicting his shattered eyes through
opaque windows and listening well walls;
wish me empty.
frames of erotic sutras
with unreliable hands painting
me a mortal escape. magnetic sexual
obsessive ink cuddles with my
inner Gypsy Picasso.
A placebo titled
hither with pleasures
i need now.
open to our story short enough
to exhale through thin uneven veins.
inhale.
oh,
mother of materialism
nude.
naked
me
empty.

Illusion

“the external world has thus become a world of shadows. In removing our illusions we have removed the substance, for indeed we have seen that substance is one of the greatest of our illusions.”

Sir Arthur Stanley Eddington

Floating

and we are one boundless
freedom beat away from
each others hearts.
where the wind blows
and suddenly becomes
never; we are inside the
real.We are drowning in our
us and the black holds our backs
tightly around our regrets...
and lets go;
till we become the light

Gentle mystery

Created by Kanika Raina

Dreamer

" be everybody!  Why love one or two people close to you? Love all! Take the whole world as your home; make every mountain and river your own; treat every child- white, black , brown , rich, poor- as your very own, and live in a way that will make earth a better place.  That is the meaning of worship of God" -Eknath Easwaran

Let me in

You were laying in between us

With softer skins of saddened

Pleas.

Where your soul first

Layered its’ eyes and fell

In love with my us;

We became.

More than your

Earth i was subsided by

The ether windy of

Our vacancy eyes.

Our vacancy eyes are

Filled with mate temptation

Of curdling the royal imagining.

The magic of our eyelids

Disappeared one night;

We woke up with dusted

Sanskrit hearts.

Shantideva

Today, all is well.

Today, indeed, I’m hale and well,
I have enough to eat and I am not in danger.
But this life is fleeting, unreliable,
My body is like something briefly lent.

Shantideva

Life

And you were a poppy

Seeded in our underwater

Orchestras’ dream.        

Each bow of breath you

Feel from this passageway

Sets apart our moment in time;

Our moment of timeless.

Stapled my beliefs to your

Lowered down walls,

I was abused in happiness and

Seduced by our perfection.

Vast of our bloom you were

Drowning we were

Creating.

Summoned by us

My torso is dimming in your

Lights because the trails

No longer require our

Flashlights.

Mercury lumber bites

Our skies and clouded rain

Fills our distant eyes:

Poetry that is mine.

Not me but mine.

There are better days

And today was meant for our

Births. I spoke to you already

And you  were disappearing

In cystic infused normalcy.

There you were in samples

Of my womb;

Holding on to my intuition’s

Breath.

Growing

Today wont fluctuate

Our broken dreams;

It will only brighten our

Surrendering.

That was my complete to

You that was my

misunderstanding

With our forgivens’.

With my solitude morning

We are completed by us

Through us in us as one.

Snowflake that never falls;

I am your melted grief...

Growing.

Forest Green

Where the wind

Settles upon us where

The wind dries within us.

Separated by our backs

And intuitively spoken

Without the normal of

My chins;

Hanging on to your skin

And I am relieved of your

Magic. Maybe I will forget

You but remember

How this page looked before

I tattooed its

Distance with my pain.

I need to be inside your

Love to be in love with love;

Stalking your eyes with

My vacancy dumb.

Numbed by our equals

We penetrate the poetry

Into our worlds apart.

I am your writer

I am your winter

I am your writer

I am written in your

Lose of breath.

Purest

the artist  will

blind the colourful winds that

Define the glowing of our fronts.

the art's

Proposed feelings

Of our brick walled wedding

Shoot are beaming skins

Untorn.

Away with me before

I forget the next line

Of our universe;

Typewriter magic

Opening our smudged

Forever’s.

Let me know if your street

Opens up to her knees,

Because my heart is racing

And I have nowhere to fly.

Focus on the sinking ink

Because the new pen of

your skin is the only

Blood that leaks that leaves

that enters me

Sole; My soul.

Stubborn seas are

Etching in my skins;

Tormented by the

Velvet sunrise.

our clouds

Rain on my tongue so i

Can taste you when you

Leave the curtains

Blind; behind.

Matilda. Magic. Magik.

“she felt the electricity beginning to flow inside her head, gathering itself behind the eyes, and the eyes became hot and millions of tiny invisible hands began pushing out little sparks”
Roald Dahl, Matilda

once upon a time
in a little kanika's universe
she read a book, Matilda
and fell in love
with Magik.

One man's truth; and I agree

"I think art is the only thing that's spiritual in the world. And I refuse to be forced to believe in other people's interpretations of God. I don't think anybody should be. No one person can own the copyright to what God means." Marilyn Manson

I am your beautiful broken

Numbered and forever

With a broken down kiss.

Where we were blown away

And struggled to fit inside

Our owned pieces;

Your wind was declared as peace

And I was hurting in your distance.

I was loving in your arms

And cried because it was never

Always and forever.

 

But now you accepted

The we’s. And I learned

Your veins as you sang our vows.

You’ve captured my black in

Beautiful pieces,

And learned to let it go

Softly

Slowly

carefully

Between my freedom toes.

You’ve brushed out my

Weak and strengthened

My eyes;

You are the reason my today

Can die the rest.

Stolen

I am starving eyes
I am distance poets ether.
I don't need an echo;
I need something real.
allure in our abused
poetry we summoned the
reality of our pointed
skins to reveal worthy
breakage. You are
my homemade broken
winter smile.
homage to the last
day we wrote on each
others intuition;
Cover my nude with
Your leaving.

His words to me; my poet inspiration

He is inspiration inspired by truth by our timeless by our breathing by our distance by the space between us that does not exist.

"Lifeless in a breath of hope 
Pushed into stillness
Taken from none 
Strength in solitude inhaling a moment later 
Forged through visions lost in the wind
This is Timeless in pages once flipped by a wondering mind
Raindrop off a leaf  thankful for a second life
Hurricanes resist before the land and air kiss
Paris ambiance dancing with Londons mist
We are life's simple in an adverse form
A stroke of genius in a mad man's storm
truth frozen in Lifeless eyes
Deft to echos
Fingertips touching her indigo skies"

by my one and only Naveen

One

"What divine drink wouldst thou have, my God, from this overflowing cup of my life? My poet, is it thy delight to see thy creation through my eyes and to stand at the portals of my ears silently to listen to thine own eternal harmony?Thy world is weaving words in my mind and thy joy is adding music to them. Thou givest thyself to me in love and then feelest thine own entire sweetness in me."
- Rabindranath Tagore