Long Fossilized Poems
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As you chase the melting mirage in the desert storm
I look at your evasive eyes permanently petrified,
see the void vision fixed in the personal frame.
As the shroud of devious dust spreads on sneaky you,
you wane in the waste land,
like the shrivelled shadow of the skeletal tree,
green once, but I know, you've lost your roots,
turned into a stubborn wooden entity.
Layer on layer the dubious design of deception
morphs into motif of masquerade mask,
the chameleon skin fashions your face
with the smoke screen, I can't see through.
The epitome of pretense creates the cloak of charade,
thwarts the rays of reality,
so, you make obscure onyx world of your own,
don't discern you turn into an ambiguous antique,
but I know, for I walk in the museum of masked people.
You build the bastion of enveloping emptiness
of abysmal abyss of your vagabond valley,
no window opens on the secluded sapphire sky.
The eradicated sunburst sequined sense
doesn't illumine your insipid isolation.
Your fixated mind remains fossilized in dark dereliction,
becomes slate slice of starless night.
You don't know why all the dreams disappear,
but I know, no rainbow ribbon wraps
your remote opaque heart,
for an obstinate object you become.
The ubiquitous vivacity ingrained in every story
gets the dormant light of the absolute truth,
yet each one is a tree on the thicket of diversity,
each one is a flower in the garden of plurality.
In the museum of my kitchen,
I excavate the strata of days,
coffee rings on the counter like tree rings,
each circle marking a morning survived.
The clock on the wall is a liar,
pretending its hands move forward
when really they spiral inward,
tightening like a fist around memory.
I find artifacts everywhere:
a receipt from three years ago,
a shopping list in handwriting
I recognize but can no longer claim as mine.
Time doesn't pass, it accumulates.
It settles like dust in corners,
builds up like plaque on teeth,
layers itself like sediment in stone.
Yesterday exists in geological time:
compressed, fossilized, permanent.
Tomorrow is still vapor, still forming
in the atmosphere above my head.
But today?
Today is the thin line
where excavation meets deposition,
where what I've been becomes
what I'm busy burying.
I am both archaeologist and artefact,
both the digger and the dug,
slowly revealing myself to myself
one careful brushstroke at a time.
Country of loyalty is supreme, others add up the number
Heaven is here already, the rest still looking for a plumber
All is perfect, in this domain, nothing that bad to remember
Understanding of respect, dwarfs in height like a chewed cucumber
Very cruel is this thin king, with the poison of a black mamba
Invaluable glory of another, fossilized like amber
Neighbouring geographies are not worthy, even when this slumbers
Internationals, not treated worthy for a good December
Spits fire and damages others like the Axe’s blade on a timber
Mother nature is beautiful and everyone is a member
“In the twilight sky’s fading fresco of sensual shimmer
the sequins of memory sprinkle on me entranced.” – Quote by poet
In the misty milepost of the penultimate pathway,
at the faded fringe of the obscure future,
the waning tune of vibrant chromatic strings
of the setting sun in the twilight zone,
reverberates the requiem for the skeletal tree,
silhouetted tranquil against the sundown skyline
of transient radiance, witnessing despondent
the last sand grain mark the trail of destiny
in the cauldron of time, illumined by the final flash
of the decayed day, d y i n g….
In the gleaming twilight ambiance under dulcet dome
the sky is still to be filled with the chromatic pile
at the end of the pathway that will take me home,
I wish for me the spent sun waits for a while to set.
In the twilight hour the sky creates a collage of colors,
weave for me the panorama for the ultimate walk.
I stand at the signpost of the last mile of my journey,
wondering what lies at the end of the ordained path.
The deformed shards of the splintered sky
spin in gyrating gale with the shattered shadows
of the terminal torment on convoluted convoy
of the curled-up bleak clouds, the remnant rays
of sanguinity sparkle still in the departing flare
of the sinking sun, drowning the montage
of the migratory memory,
compose the latent melody of the unsung dreams
with fossilized life’s incoherent cadence,
sequestered in the spectral lyric
of the sunset swansong, r e s o n a t i n g ….
She dug a hole in the earth
& buried her heart where no one
Could find it.
Through my tongue I have dug
And excavated through a person
I thought I knew.
A region I still travel both known and unknown.
Through ancient wisdom & modern text,
A known philosopher of over 500 texts.
Though I read tirelessly, I lost sense of direction
Through hieroglyphic palpitations
Circa the first breath taken in front of you.
She dug a hole in the earth & filled it with dirt.
A language lost and undisturbed.
Her heart a eutopia, massive & hidden
From history.
Through hard dirt and torn tongue
The tip of my tongue struck something soft
& compromising.
Alas, I have journeyed to the center of your chest
& survived.
Through dirt and torn tongue, here we lay
Fossilized in the center of your chest,
Until everything rumbles
& your heart spews through your chest
Like lava.
Only then could we live again in a region
Truly meant for us
Eventide drizzle,
dainty ballerina
dances with tinsels
of molten rainbow,
captured by twilight
transient,
descends with rhythm
of cosmic ballet
at the ebony edge
of the onyx night,
the squashed sordid sky
enwrapped embellished,
waits to unfurl
rain-rinsed petals
with aurora of afflatus
to embroider
with lattice of luminance
the halcyon horizon,
splendorous.
Juvenile smile,
sparkling sapphire
of innate innocence
configured intrinsic,
cascades as cheerful stream
in verdant valley
of fleeting youth
for a nostalgic while,
with ageless naïve aura
inundates ignorant
the pristine plateau,
the unsullied face
flash flooded,
waits expectant
at doorstep of destiny
hope would turn the time,
drift away
dense obscurity dust,
reveal the fossilized smile
on petrified portrait
in the crumpled canvas
of senile life,
sanguine.
Night stirred memories, once forgotten,
of the days I burnt in love
when you consumed my days and I carried you like a queen,
in the palanquin of my thoughts.
Without forethought, to elbow out
the marauding of thorny memories,
I set out, travelling miles, my heart throbbing in my chest,
my nimble legs shaking and trembling
and finally reaching your hermitage.
Casting away my stilted pride, expectant and anxious,
I waited at your doorstep to seize the moment
to renew a commitment and knocked hopefully at your door,
so far never opened before anyone.
While listening intent for the approaching foot steps
and the sound of the key turning on the latch,
did I see a face peering through the window,
and quickly withdraw?
Was it the face I longed to see?
Might not be or else, I would have been admitted in!
Time skipped quickly by, hours flitted
between limping dawns and staggering nights
Initially I knew the tedium of waiting
and the crushing weight of Time on me.
Soon I lost count of it….
Like an alien, how long had I waited there?
Was it weeks, months or years?
The wait must have been pretty long.
I knew roots had grown under my feet
and my body had vegetated into a tree,
but without leaves and fruits!
In Time’s eternal motion, the tree will remain there
as a trunk of fossilized hope, till your love charges life into it!
My vision tingles, colors awaken
as if they'd been fossilized in a photograph of
black and white.
My sight starts to single out exactly
what isn't there.
I stare, immense beauty exploding-
a supernova of stellar Earthly sights
pierces the veil of vile synthetic lights.
They skew, anew, casting golden lemon drop
crystals amongst the freshly sprouted green petals
of grass.
And at last,
while sharing their golden nectar amid white
wisps of washed out clouds that patch the
glistening sky,
dragonflies
flitter
by.
Intertwined and combined in perfect unison, they sing-
all is as it should be,
we are the epitome of yin and yang.
She counted the days hearing the heartbeats in the longing times,
spoke to a life she couldn’t yet see, but learning how love rhymes.
Petite hopes bred deep within before the sound she could hear,
a billion dreams were interlaced, but their limits were not clear.
(Chorus)
She didn’t sense the cry, nor the breath, no wobbling hands to hold
by a mother created futile with empty arms turning freezing cold.
The trauma of losing the first child she wanted the world never knew,
the stillborn child still lived in her heart with fossilized affection true.
She was told with time the loss of the unpossessed would fade away,
but each lonely night she pined for her body part that didn’t see the day.
She remembered she didn’t get the opportunity to see with fond eyes
the palpable bond in the time frame mutually carved that never dies.
(Chorus)
She didn’t sense the cry, nor the breath, no wobbling hands to hold
by a mother created futile with empty arms turning freezing cold.
The trauma of losing the first child she wanted the world never knew,
the stillborn child still lived in her heart with fossilized affection true.
(Bridge)
Time offers a healing hand when the world moves on in rushing pace,
only the mother could feel the stony silence of the empty still space.
She endured the loss of love that didn’t get a chance to have a name,
just silently uttered prayers for strength so the pain she could tame.
She was still a mother, but the testimony wasn’t there to be shown,
she nurtured an unblossomed soul within her she deemed her own.
The unsung songs still play in her mind where memory layers piled
with lyrics of silent lullaby that never end for her lost unborn child.
She didn’t hear the cry, the sound silenced by the echo of her sighs,
a life ended in the stillness of the night before it saw the first sunrise
in the arms of the dismayed mother embracing the child stillborn,
the world doesn’t discern in her bleak life how much does she mourn.
From the obscure fossilized time of the yonder past,
humans traversed evolution’s ordained trajectory,
ascended to the high peak of incisive intelligence,
and emerged as the most perceptive living species.
Insecure in the collapsing orbit of the consumed life,
I gravitate toward the innate center of sensuous self,
get sucked into the black hole of the resolute ego,
the survival instinct yields to the power of intellect.
When in agonized life the dreams drown in dark abyss,
I search for the light of wisdom illumining my soul,
attain the sublime state of devout consciousness,
discern the divine harmony with the supreme melody.
I abandon the ego entangled in the complex equation
of existence to understand the meaning of life
in the scale of soul’s quotient of spiritual wisdom,
then the portal opens to the sanctum of profound bliss.
______________
January 15, 2023
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