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