Tag Archives: poet

magmatic rage of a midnight bluebird are glowering suns of infinetly birthing universe in its poetic soulfulness

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#rage #rowdiram
#PractiseRighteousRage #RowdiramPazhagu
#FrostAndBharathiyarAndMe
#thedepths

It looked as if a night of dark intent was coming, and not only a night, an age. Someone had better be prepared for rage… ~Robert Frost

whatever the classical verses
hold essential
in there the poetic truth
and soul, its only when one’s
own suns flare
in

reddening magmatic flows
of a righteous
rage
(in your own fights fought

in bled out deepfringed hearts
splashingly downsized
to destiny’s clotted
darkness spilt haphazard
in sound’s sudden
submergence – this adamant
eternity , rather there’s
never a

lopsiding lounge of brewing
senses in frilled facultative existence
of loosely hung lust laden veils
so in translucence that much
feigns- like crafted rainbow
threaded textures but
afterall dwell

in holed-up bogging hungers, this
maskless hunter in slimed mossy
gloss, luring unabashedly in
vociferous hissing
kisses)

glowers and gleams, their
rays are at purposed ease to piercekill
the lurking shadowdy greys to the
paling conscience [irreversibly
plunging into their dug shallows]

and whatever whatsoever
coming in way of depthly
and almost deathly climaxings

#uj2110170226
#postmidnytmaniacs
#sacredwarringself

Pic: web, Taft McWhorter Art

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there’s no more music and morning serenities lined up as we diaboically dash towards dungeoned doomsday

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humming bees in spatial kolams n the muddy mother wasps
busy hovering dragons in ‘no agenda’ planar geometries
to the chirping romantic mynas and ultra-beeping acrobatical rabbits

they still breathe in sync with the elemental cosmos, Her mystical dancing patterns

smothering Her tranquil scapes n species
are your in’human’e mangling noises
boring bleeding her core
until to be digging Her

rudra n thandav

apocalyptical dusts

‘showing now’

in teasers of hurricanes n wildfires

dengues n nuclear threats n dirty politiks

n more. such sprees of destruction n deaths

seems suicidal self-accelerated destiny perhaps

as Her the Kali’s wrath flares up incremental

and but a poet is not just a hardcore romantic

Poetic soul is not blind n in sidelined silence

Harmony n pacifications are his/her rituals to Her

Pic: web, David Ho Art