Best Pigmented Poems
S l e e p feels like a pathological lie ~
deranged dialect
spoken from the tongue of traitors,
and I listen to the heinous haze
of the insomniac breeze
moving to the splitting silver
of Judas’s coins,
a reflection of an estranged estuary
with no island left to revisit...
For I’ve seen it ~
all alone,
tasted the tormented
tones of tornadoes,
their truth tender,
warmer than the vicious voice in my head,
gaslighting my mind,
betraying my faith
clouding my soul’s compass
to believe in the
phantom fallacies painted
and pigmented
from my own poisoned perspectives,
the forest serpents of fears
sojourning in the skin,
hiding the terror
left in the arteries of abandonment.
But what would the
cynical mirror of existence reveal
when everything I have learned
was written from the crippled ink
of a burdened storm,
carrying chaos amidst calmness,
unable to grasp grey,
as hope feels like the
devil in a dress,
drenched in deception.
And I hurt
like an infant left unloved,
oblivious to the eagle anthems,
threatened by aerial oaths,
as I am the architect of darkness,
not a victim,
but the turmoil to the
Sun and the Moon,
living in the macabre
valleys thriving in shame,
as my inner child still dreams
in cursed colors of crestfallen angels.
The toxic tune in my head,
the venom within my veins,
the cataclysmic carnelian
beneath my feet ~
O beloved bloom unblemished,
remove yourself
from this collapsing castle
of cruelty numbed,
where dahlias grow from doom
and skeletons wear my name.
I am trauma
a walking juxtaposition
suffocating your silence,
aching for assurance,
ricocheting like rust
of infernal flames ~
so wipe the traces hanging
on the smoke-kissed
screens of stillness,
burn the addictive
madness of my name...
Let these ashes be,
as nocturnal stars
watch me turn into
a sonnet, unrhymed
and
u n f
i n
i s
h e d …
In our Asian-cum-Eastern land
No one prefers or admires
the dark-skinned or tanned
Gosh, as if the fair-skinned alone
belonged to the so-called fairer sex
And here, 'black is beauty' a phrase unheard
All falling for the light skinned almost in reflex!
Bachelors on the hunt for a non-fictional Asian 'Snow-white'
Even an ugly heart will do if the skin is white, pale and light
For them lighter skin tis brighter and better at beauty
even if superficial and skin-deep
The dark-skinned maidens thereby left single to weep
But while the ebony dark- pigmented
go on applying whitening and lightening creams
The white Westerners frequented
the sunlit beaches for dark tans from sun beams!
So in westerners females wish to look browned and tanned
Thus the opposite is preferred
so to that end they may sun bathe for hours on beach sand
Ah and though from the point of view of my motherland
I am luckier that God chose
to model me from a peachy whiter lighter clay,
I still feel this tug-of-war between complexions
needn't really join the fray.
For when you and I glance at Naomi Campbell
we know beauty can be white, brown and black as well
Like love, beauty knows no colour, creed or race
As proved by this gorgeous black supermodel.
Besides, we all have come across
both dark-skinned angelic saints
and fair-skinned folks with sinner's taints
Ah, Black Beauty, or Fair and lovely
Beauty has never known any bounds
For God He distributed beauty rather equally
No argument can last on these grounds
Oh, a soulmate's inner beauty ought to be earnestly sought
Too bad lustful passions fall for those merely outwardly hot!
I wish
I could into a deep blue sea dive
Have the flowing flood of tears subside
Let my smile surface and revive
And my woes would ever cease to survive..
I wish
I could the highest of mountains mount
And from its very summit
I would see with no doubt
How tiny my tribulations and vain to wane about..
I wish
I could widely fly
Reach the heart of the sky
And how light I am I would realise
Having dropped the heaviest of burdens so far..
I wish
I could on a solid land land
And feel the strength of the path I tread
Be sure not to stumble
When I raise high my head..
I wish
I could vanish into darkness
With a void I would merge
Attain a leading light
And with serenity I would converge..
I wish
I could follow an inner time to rise
Bright, full of energy and willing to shine
Despite the weights of dark nights
Seek the Light of God, bow to the Sublime and end my fights
I wish
I could not just bathe but sink
In a so pigmented thick ink
Draw and colour in a wondrous beauty
Paintings and portraits with my poetry..
The surgeon generals
are scalpel meeting once again
Fear doktors of war
are planning to raise another mar
on Earth’s topographical skin
Pigmented epidermal cells
are being prosperity lullabied put to sleep
under the celestial lights
Souls with eyes and minds closed —
their ears tingle lustily,
hearing cash pillow talk on poverty sheets
But, the gorgeous planetary patient
has no operating room human rights
Oh, such an awful terrestrial plight!
Yet, the view from the firmament heights
show another picture
of love from above
No stitches are seen
on the sky blue-eye, brown skin beauty
Regal global queen,
daughter of the Lunar tides,
your disfigurement is a cosmic shame
Moon princess,
Snow White seasonal changeling,
the galloping Four Horsemen are coming
upon the dispossessing gale wind
to trample upon
your perfect facial contours again
Hazel spring eyes,
with a cerulean crown
over her cloud-colored wedding veil
She wears such a Polar aurora adorable,
pristine mountainous gown
But the Jekyll dogs of war
are viciously on the shadow Hyde, waiting
to gnash another canine needle
into your verdant cheek vale fertility
Upon an evergreen face
does not one strand of virgin
forest hair
stand out of winter place
Until the anaesthesia bombs needle drop
to pockmark your oasis skin ...
and the monstrous dissection begins
Bloody butchers bullet love
slaughterhouse flaying
Stitching border sutures ... raised-flag lines
that are ever changing
As the summer fruits of world peace
are no longer autumn falling
Cris-cross scissor map marks
have so money land-lust sullied your timeless beauty
A planetary Bride of Frankenstein
is now your geo-political, laboratory scarred destiny
And I’m afraid to experimentally speak:
more stitches are soon forthcoming
Yet, from high above,
tho’ I hear
the negotiating table scalpel scrapes ...
I see no ugly stitches
on your indigo beautiful oceanic face
A sky-bow
pastel light rays,
pigmented by clouds;
a canvas of light.
Gradient echoes filtering
from stratospheric crystal;
embracing curvature,
terra-forma.
Polychrome lamp
riding world’s edge
to infinity’s lair;
ascending...descending,
half moon crest.
A lemon-cherry,
orange and grape
smoothie, blending
in the heavens.
My soul bleeds into
passion pinks
elation oranges
pulling me up to
highest heights
of tranquility.
We meld...
I yearn to be ...irrevocably unveiled,
the dripping devotion
curling between the yin and yang
of your stoic sanctuary ~
the asylum of your ache,
the devoted rose damsel
burning to bathe
in drizzling thistles and petals
of your pulsing petrichor,
soaked in russet and rouge
of irresistible silence,
still tracing lifelines between
spaces of laser-blue sparks,
carrying the cadence
of creatures consumed in confusion,
unable to contain
the colors of love’s trust,
oblivious to the lips
pigmented with pixels
of passionate patience.
O soul-flame, seraphic sanctum
of strawberry moon-rain,
must I allow the stars to seize
our kismet in blushing blaze?
What if the darkness beholds
what we breathe beyond our
armored attachment,
that elevates the
mystery of muted magnetism?
Would you still engulf my spirit
with emerald embers of empathy,
or would I be left lingering
in the electric aftermath
of a kaleidoscopic kiss ~
reweaving and reminiscing
the restless runes
rehearsed through the nights
when sleep abandoned these words
like an illusive touch
that never felt my need to belong
in a place where
our heartbeats danced to the
same endless echo,
resembling the rhythm
of Psyche’s pining sigh
and Cupid’s nomadic arrow ~
caged in craving,
misplaced in desperate devotion…
I will relentlessly remain
as your unapologetic heat ~
the merciful mirror to your
mellifluous manifestation,
for you and I,
we are ardent lovers
embracing the unseen and unspoken,
cocooned catastrophically ~
amidst the distance
between my sky and your gaze,
while fading within your
eccentric catharsis… forevermore…
I am garnet Aphrodite,
vampire rose ~
the huntress of halcyon
wrestling with love and limerence
bleeding for the soul and spirit
of smoke-kissed sepals
stretching towards the sky
drawing you in delicate dreams
lost in luscious light
while these lips tremble
to taste the tight temperance
of true temptation…
and in the ache of aloneness
I still am fluent in
the dialect of devotion
the sacred symphony
to serenade a shield-maiden saga
choosing inner battles
for I belong where
the balm of burning balance
blooms to the sound
of thriving thorns
and murmuring myrtles...
I am not unstitched by silence
but tested by the trials
of wild-woven withdrawal ~
a sun-soaked sapphire
aligning the anguish
swirling through surging spells
connecting scattered
cosmic brushstrokes
to beautifully drape destiny
in pulsing pixels
pigmented with Seijaku...
I place my fingers
along the charismatic chest
of soft fuchsia walls,
tracing the tints of tremors
climbing as addictive vines
amidst cold crevices
to reach my skin
sighing to be within the
palms of patient passion
I will remain warmed
in the kaftan kismet
of a longing laced
in cobalt peacock promises
beaded with golden amulets
carved with cursive cravings
we are the wishful flares ~
the world cannot fathom.
but in the starvation
of collided touch
we do not phase ~
we fearlessly swell
into the deathless space of faith
where the spring breeze
phrases our
initials in sunset mauve...
O fragrant field to my mind,
paint me within the
stirring sentiments of your spine...
I own your signature ~
starry-silver strength
braiding my henna-hued hair
into a universal bun
of beloved blissfulness…
Stone of Nihilism
Stained glass lies
Colored shards of broken truth
Puzzle pieces arranged in
Sanctimonious expression
Designed to camouflage falsehoods
The perjury of Priests
Disguised deceit in windows of brilliant rainbow hues
Lighted by a sunlight of fraudulent confession
Hypocrisy designed with prismatic glass of fragile faith
Proudly hang in your Church of Shame
My single stone of Nihilism
Shatters the pigmented panes of your tinted atrocities
©2019
in the shape of maintenance
there are four straight sided sides
lies of coper (copper) pipes
to actually but not officially
or explicitly choke the life
out of me
pigmented mutuality
is credibility yours to kill
come find me nosy enigmatic organization
(groups who solve puzzles)
while my grave is being dug
clues to the find
are not all in the same state
rotting candor of honesty
i did lyric (write) and stopped breathing
shape of maintenance
four straight sides
of copper pipes
actually but not officially
choke the life
out of me
mutuality
credibility to kill
come nosy youthful institution of association
my grave is being dug
clues to the find
look states
fumy honesty
lyric and not breathing
Inflicted is this society
Of depicted truths to matter
Does it matter
When every life doesn't matter to the same accord
Accordingly, slavery was abolished
To what effect when our minds are currently enslaved
When the only awakening comes from the mourn of graves
Theres so much to be saved, this is known
Every life does matter
Yet the matter has no volume to skin tone
When the only way is the only way
To band together
Ensuring the importance never fades
In creating the trending phase
Of change
Important Phrase!
Black Lives do matter
Our skin far from white
So the minority as a whole must also lather
The will to stand up for this pigmented matter
Black, White, Hispanic
What ever you may be
We are all created in light of a womb
To the luck of a swim up stream
In similarity of the blood we bleed
N the placenta we once did feed
Linked in red
The blood shed of our being
Against the wall I was his devi
Pressed tight beside his soul
Skin so hot it burned through mine like a fever
Warming my muscles
Warming my pulse
Fueling my movement
Touching my body he was my sher
Braving my imperfections
Lips so thirsty they tasted mine with frenzy
Spinning my thoughts
Spinning my surroundings
Driving my feelings
It was…
Underneath the materialistic piles
Cotton, polyester, and satin
He saw my secret nature
Underneath my pigmented eyes
Crushed Lala and gloomy brown
He saw my Élan vital
Underneath my damaged Pericardium
He found my beating heart.
poetically fractured retractions
gnashing night prayers,
scribbling braille,
written sideways
dipped in holy water's resolution,
compromising statements
of disbelief's proclamation
spinning music the color
of nakedly sick psycho, yet
burnished souls keep on ticking
quarter past total trade-offs
in a spoonful of smoky reflections
sans acid's sugar trip,
anointed of rose-reddish
bloody false pretenses
dancing off center phases
in disillusioned
pirouettes of pseudo redemption,
whirling out of control on
staged tapestry's loftiness
surrendered ballet slippers
in blistered half promises,
as twisted metaphors sprightly
tuned out spun anomalies
below birds on a rusty wire tweeting
admissions' cobalt blue hazed execution,
rendered inky alterations' inquisitions
'pon pedaled pink fluff profundity,
exhaling paroxysms' jazzily engaged poesy
in vehemently enraged deliverance,
naught one is ever as they seem
through pigmented film 'neath
figment's imagined looking glass
of ingratiated delusional grandeur
ON BEING A SAUSAGE ROLL
Our other sausage acquaintances are real –
Flavoured, pigmented, heated
By boiling or frying :
They have their dignity, though they too be eated.
Our natural features, our inner glories,
Are pastry-coated and abide
In small bags from ye take-away,
All similar and eaten cold outside.
Or at best saucered and microwaved
With ketchup to add insults :
Not only hidden under pastry,
Yea also ‘neath red chemical lab results.
Never are we savoured like frankfurters
Or slowly chewed like wurst.
We are hurriedly snapped up like cakes and ale
By a fat eater ready to burst
In a line of crawling traffic,
Or in a static bus queue.
Inside an expanding waistline - Zwounds
Ye fat paunch - with no limit in view.
But soft! Life on the savoury pastry shelf
Is a production line existence - not a role.
Oh, to shuffle off this pastry coil -
I’m just another sausage roll.
.................................
soft-spoken & fair woman
with much assurance to every child
her fair heart tallied with her colour
for hers was a fair pigmented skin
generous & kind to a fault
a face with ever-beaming smile
she lived one angel on this horizon
mother badaiki, loved by all
hers was a love-bound heart
when was she angry? when frowning?
’tis the hardest to say she lived for us
mother badaiki, loved by all -
& death cannot kill you, dear mother!
Salmon Run
A flurry of reds emerges distorted from the river
As the sockeye salmon return from the ocean,
Following the scent of their home stream water
And swimming upstream to the place of their birth;
In this, their final act is to propagate the species.
During this migration, the sockeyes consume no food
But depend on their stored body fat reserves.
The salmon flesh is red due to the krill they eat,
and this pigment moves to the skin where they absorb their scales
as the flesh turns white, which is an indication of their health.
They endure the struggle over falls, up rapids,
And past man-made structures and predators
To reach the spawning grounds of their creation.
The name originates from the Pacific Indigenous peoples’
Salish languages,
Who called them “suk-kegh,” meaning “red fish,” after their colour.
For centuries, the coastal tribes’ ancestral heritage
fished the salmon for sustenance
And traditions and believed that all living things were once people.
To them, the sockeye salmon symbolizes determination,
renewal, and prosperity.
Frantically, grotesque-looking fish splash furiously.
The females in a frenzy sweep their tails to make beds,
While males await excitedly, defending their mates,
Ready to move in between them and the nest
To fertilize the eggs that are about to be laid.
They didn’t always look this way, with the upper portion
of the snout
Elongated, protruding over the bottom as if hook-jawed
With long fanged teeth and greenish-hued heads,
And red-pigmented bodies with thick leathery skin,
With a hump on their backs that makes them appear freakish.
The juveniles remain in the freshwater until mature.
Then, they swim out into the ocean for two to three years
before returning to repeat the cycle.
Steely silver-blue tinted colour with white bellies
And heads of natural proportions to the rest of their sleek,
transparent-scaled, torpedo-shaped bodies;
Magnificently gorgeous for a fish.