Messy Vitality

Normal is as dead as leather shoes,
It is as solemn as a moment of farewell,
Its path is plain and is the ultimate bore,
Its silent power forces drool to drip from the mouth

I love distorted than all that is straight as an arrow,
I love all that is vague rather than the articulated,
I’d love to think when boring marries interesting,
They bare messy vitality that flinches dead senses back to life

I would devotedly choose richness over clarity,
Because it swirls and blinks wanderlust to the unknown,
It is like the sound of that desired first kiss,
That speaks a thousand words, that which cannot be spoken

I like to think that it is indeed relieving not to know,
To embrace all the sweet simple things that surrounds us,
Those which vibrate the feeling of realness and of trust,
Spread our wings and marvel at the earth, its flowers and wonder,
For there are tentacles spread everywhere in the path of normalcy

 

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POETIC THERAPY: RUST

Taking a stab at a new-to-me form:  the Ghazal RUSTY WIND Autumn kisses the trees with a rusty wind exhaled from October’s lungs, a lusty wind Grabbing loose garden soil by the fistful Whirling min…

Source: POETIC THERAPY: RUST

Sounds of Unrestricted Love

The dead oaks spread across the earth,
Other trees stood still, somber like mourners,
They were honor guides of earthly angels,
They were escorting the sinless souls that lay still

This morning was freshened by light caressing breeze,
That ran softly through the currency of shadows,
That was spilled by the mourning trees that stood silent,
Her tired edges were smoothed by their flawless beauty

She felt light as a feather floating in high attitudes,
She was surrounded by the air that carried sweet grassy scents,
Strands of brightened sunshine fell silently from the scenic sky,
There could be many places that she could be at that moment,
She closed her eyes, glad that she was here to experience all these

The wide-eyed owl stared at her with a curiosity that pinched
As if it could tell that her eyes were feigning happiness,
Like someone who was wise, mysterious and watchful,
That swift fly centered and calmed the storms in her life
As they made wordless sounds of unrestricted love

 

Sounds of the Silent Night

The night was young and the full moon appeared like a snowy stone, It was also eerie, silent and still like an abandoned church, It seemed to evoke a strange chemical presence in my blood, Vague an…

Source: Sounds of the Silent Night

Sounds of the Silent Night

The night was young and the full moon appeared like a snowy stone
it was also eerie, silent and still like an abandoned church
it seemed to evoke a strange chemical presence in my blood
vague anxiety was carried by the energy that buzzed in the air.

This night was gentle, the moon and the stars called me
i felt a lonely and powerful presence in the silent air
i was breathing it, taking it all in with an inexplicable wonder
i felt it invade my place of refuge and all my dark corners.

Shadowy images spun and spun like disks in my head
they were beautiful, grotesque and also inappropriate
my animal senses seemed to react as if the images were real
my body was a flower opening in the rain

Like a quiet tide, memories raised me higher and higher
of a black script that I had chosen over the branded one
i was a feather, floating and dancing in my own sweet melody
this night carried an invincible air of strength and sophistication
the textures, colors and sounds of this night were intensely real

 

Sometimes

Sometimes I like stopping time and holding it like a camera,
To take in the sensation of truly being alive and living,
My entire body feeling warm and buoyant as if dreaming,
Like the unborn, I like bathing in bliss, safe, secure and protected

Sometimes I like to take in the slanting sunshine,
Unaware that time slowly snoozes away never to return,
Fully guided by knowledge that such is a silly mystery,
Shining a benign smile to the world in that disillusioned moment

Sometimes I like quivering like a petal in the breeze,
In a beautiful but disturbing moment of ignorance,
To feel the relieve of floating in a pool of nothingness,
And claim back the solitary nature of my childhood innocence

Sometimes I feel free and wild like a brightly colored bird,
My softness moving swiftly through my wings and feet,
To fly through all artfully arranged petals, trees and the sky,
Burning with the desire to detect all that is serene and mesmerizing

Sometimes I am forced to fight away tears springing in me,
In a harsh world that has killed too many comforting words,
Slowly inhabiting the air and silence that shatters me,
As I turn myself into a radiant angel to my own rescue,
For that is my perpetual dream that is too devoutly to be wished