Notes About The Poem
This poem has been woven for the spellbinding contest 'secrets of the soul' being hosted by Ink Empress .. hope you like it .. also in the last stanza, the bold lines illustrate the title of her latest book, "ink bleeds and the moon weeps".. just a little token of gratitude & sincere appreciation, because it's so worth it!!!
Noir Scents of Nirvana
feel me…
I'm the scent of champagne purple peonies ~
pearlescent with perplexed perspectives,
drunk upon the midnight mediocrity
as twilight walks in the valleys of ruptured ribs,
gnawed upon by the grief-stricken goblins,
that have long lost —
the battle of backstabbing butterflies,
and declared themselves
as driftwood dahlia ghosts
in the gallery of your glitching galaxies.
I never asked to be forgiven for the sins
that renamed their sighs,
as a spellcasted hallelujah ~
unsanctified in your sanctuary
of solicited sorcery ~
but, O' Satan
I'm still the lover of a beast,
bleeding the burgundy breeze of belladona
through blasphemic blisters
of my bougainvillaea ballads;
the worshiper of magenta maelstrom,
murmuring mellifluous malignancy
in the music of your bones…
life has been
a malevolent mistress ~
victimized through the crimes
I never committed,
crushing me with
cyanide incompatibility,
orchestrating through
the oyster oxymorons of omens
etched in soulless opals,
as my fate is ~
to rage in sleepless sagas,
embossed in the
escalating ecstacy
of electric blue mantras ~
where cloistered
in the kyanite clairvoyance,
are the zealous slaves of Zeus
and each zigzagging dragonfly petal
is perfumed with the perennial pain
of scrutinized scavengers.
I've longed to be the thunder
trapped in the titanium lightening
that cuts across the sky ~
to be the laughter that
stretches like a gold-lined lavaliere
between the cobalt cotton clouds,
as the tremors of your terror
haven't yet learned to be polite
with the way they
sculpt my poignancy ~
trapped in your pulse,
and I continue to vent
like a villainess of
velvet-obsidion verses
in the vigourous ash of my
final farewell ~
cleansing your elysian essence
with the woes I weave ~
in aster and amaranthine,
as I've already kept
the taste of your tasteless truths
alive in the aviary of anxious aromas,
for, I am the asylum
of your ache,
the echo of eclipsed eucalyptus elixirs
pulsating in the agonising autopsy
of your heatless heart.
so, take me,
this feather-shaped soul ~
where the moon weeps ,
destructive orchids dream
and the ink bleeds ~
I'll float with you in those flamboyant flares
of sparkless conversations,
colouring the chaos
with the cosmic combustion
of cyan confetti cinders ~
as I am the masouleum of Hera,
the nevermore nymph of Nirvana ~
negotiating with nectarine nebulas
with my supernova quill,
crafting the frame
of your faulty nonchalance,
in the noir notes
of negligent nemesis.
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