Flowers of the Rainbow

Aston kamunde


Was it the color, the sight or the smell?
She was struck by a fine wavering feeling,
Of the flowers of the rainbow that could be imagined or real,
But they had an invincible chord that played her rhythm of life

She was overwhelmed; it was as if she had found her own world at last!
Now, she was in her solitary nature where she could be free,
The flowers of the rainbow carried something silently powerful,
It was the ultimate freedom, tenderness and protection

She was in a dream, where all her elements went loose,
They were unrestricted, unbidden and in their true nature,
She was now dancing to her own tune that sounded true,
There was easy intimacy in the air that she breathed

The flowers of the rainbow had hands beyond tenderness,
She was in a timeless bliss in that moment of sweetness,
They were an ocean…

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I’m a Mess

Aston kamunde


I’m a mess, weak and at times foolish,

My dreams seems scattered extravagantly as debris on my path,

The sounds of my reckless imagination ply the air around me,

They lay at the centre of my dogma of philosophy

Every motion of my life has meaning that deeply matters,

They bear silly patterns that make my life an existential lark,

Sometimes I fear that I would be at an impasse,

Probably because there is something unseen waiting

I’m a mess because I bond so tightly with my gut,

I like the idea that there is safety in the tickling of the clock,

Keeping the door wide open for fate to bring forth its twists and turns,

Because I know for sure that in the end, its all picturesque

I’m foolish because I find too much meaning in illusions,

My born stupidity lubricates my silent gales of giggles,

They carry an…

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Dark Secret

Aston kamunde

moon 1

The moon sprayed quivering rainbows across the sky,
But the air was still and it carried with it a frightening feeling,
The night was cold and filled with whispering sounds,
As if it knew her dark secret… as if it saw right through her!

It was yet another unnerving episode of her life before her own eyes,
She felt like an actor as if she was playing a role in a big production,
And as blackness started to form beyond the moon and the stars,
She felt a frightened sweat trickle down her shivering face

The alarm she felt escalated into deep emotional fear,
How could the heavens form cahoots against her defenseless self?
Who would save her from this dreading feeling?
The dreading feeling that perhaps death was searching to cut her down!

She suddenly realized that this long distilled fear would turn lethal,
She did not want to…

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Broken Meaning

Aston kamunde


The night sounds were returning tentatively,
And blackness lay behind the moon and the stars,
The air carried a subtle new energy,
Of a ghost town endowed with haunted love

The shadows of oak trees steadily inked towards the night whispers,
They seemed as though they were weary from heavy sympathy,
It seemed as though there was light in darkness,
It was a false but a welcome assumption to safety

Along the long lonely road lay a dark creature,
It was a beetle that was laying on its back struggling for dear life,
As ants relentlessly and mercilessly sucked from its leakage
Then a rat suddenly scarred up the bole of unseen phoenix palm,

Skepticism crept over the now brooding silence,
In the dark, deep, direct shadows that lurked in every corner,
It was a meaningless and dark-comic nature of life,
As today won’t hold any meaning that can change…

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Angel with the Broken Wings

Aston kamunde


When I saw her at first, my gaze was more steadier and focused on her eyes,
Her eyes seemed both sharp and beautiful, like an animal from the wild,
I saw refinement and also hurt in those eyes, which shone under the clear moon,
But desperate terror seemed to overwhelm them as if she was in pain

Steely eyed, she glared at me with intense pain as if to plea with me,
I saw spasms rippling through her entire body as she wept silently,
I held out my hand ready and willing to seize the moment and just hold her,
But sobbing, she faded into the specter as transparently as gauze

She had traversed many centuries and many histories to come searching,
The day she arrived, the sky was gray with fine mists sitting through the clouds,
Standing stonily, the frail shadows closed on her as an ocean to a…

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Wry Dry Day

Aston kamunde

Emoly Carr's Painting

She felt like her whole existence was drifting away just like time,
Grief had revisited and shaken the depth of her being,
Fun had eluded her and only left dark emptiness,
A blackened hole that would suck her up and destroy her

Every iota of her emotion was greater than her expectations
All her dreams seemed to be clouded by sounds of wings,
The welcome and goodbye sounds,
Left her lonely and desperate face colored by poverty of a smile

The splendor of sunlight and the sky,
Seemed to play a complete contrasting rhythm from her feelings,
The sun spilled a low orange candle across the sky,
Its warmth was an intoxicating fleeting feeling that inspired a smile, small but smile still

A faint glow started forming in her rejected lonely heart,
It slowly became a healer to her broken heart,
There is always a fragile peace after shattering chaos,

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Whirling Gusts


As I hugged the unusual, empty, snaking road,

I was well aware of the invincible presence,

A whoring evil presence… staring…hating,

Line of unsettled faces souring with loath


Sometimes I felt naked under their invincible gawk,

Overwhelmed with the stench of everlasting exhaustion,

But the feeling also filled my soul with a sickly sweet anticipation,

Of fate, luck or even unluck


The growing wind carried a myriad of strange dialects,

They were hissing sounds with undercurrents of fury,

What’s wrong with leading my life? Owning my life?

Doing what I want, where I want and how I want it!


I struggled to keep all obscenity well hidden in my heart,

Feeling the joy and the hurt of it too,

It attracted a strange and a curiously exciting feeling,

It felt unearthly, delectable, sweet and satisfying


I got distracted by a lone spidery purple flower,

It was neither pleasant nor unpleasant,

The flower carried neither any perfume nor odor,

Fire from the sky sent red hot winds along its path


They hissed violence that equaled the thumping of my chest,

They came from the sky of death to life,

They multiplied like maggots in a corpse,

Were they winds of change or of a new assurance?


Everything and everyone was battered down,

Consumed by self-fed agony,

Except for the lonely purple flower,

That huddled defensefully deep in the loose soil…