Paradoxes, Poetry and Pandemonium.

[sneb]

Poetry : My glorified whisper, Love

You be the glorified whisperer,
your rumors bind my body into-
what has the limelight fallen
and my breasts fuller,
your mumble withstands the shaking,
in broad eyesights, the gasps forgiven,
what has the mundane, daily affair
turned into celebration for the evening.

You may be the chosen speaker,
but for the giveaway winds
we have turned into the stares and the looks,
just like the inevitable ecstasy
I still sweat and flounder, wait for your ending.

You are what I dreamt of you to be,
much before I slid beneath the covers,
the delights, they fell like night stars of rumors,
they fell everywhere, they climbed up your lips.
​

 

[sneb]

Pandemonium : They will come

They will come for you in the deep nights,
you will be asleep as your flesh is lost in the crowd.

The heaps of screams will bury your heart to emptiness.
​

 

[sneb]

Poem : They.

They simmer in a corner as if
their ghosts boil in spiteful emotion
by the edge of light and all it holds within.

They lurk in a corner that has been
burned as the kingdoms of men fell,
by the edge of knives that I helped drive so deep.

And yet they wear masks and walk outside,
masks of sanity, stable mental faculty,
a poise to behold, men and their children with their wives:
Come the fall of the daylight and they retreat
to where housed the books of their chatter and gossip.

But they shall need stories to keep going,
help stay the mask on.
They have the heroes of their valour
and soaking in blood be the happenings.
So I will be their monster who burned-
down their homes, to this corners their retreat.

Their children need stories where there was good
and then came to be a hateful evil.
Needless to say, their world has them saviours
which leaves our stories to be villainous.
To feed hope our truth be sacrificed.
They need a demon and I will oblige.

The lands of men want their nightmares
so I shall haunt them, true or not
my memories will be distorted and
I will assure horrors in their corners.

​

 

[sneb]

Paradox : Noisy silence



When you make that much noise
it is your voice that gets silenced
in the first place.

 

[sneb]

Ancient your habits of day-fading,
spent in heavy noons;

I remember the tastes of unbridled laze.​

 

[sneb]

Poem : She

She plants my faith between her lips.
That rare bloom. That rare blossom. I love how the ink of love
Dips under her eyelash. Falls between her eyes.

​

 

[sneb]

Poem : Where the apples be loved, roses bled

Let apples erupt, they burst and roses bleed
My love; It has unfurl, it has spread,
Lip upon the lip, broken between the shadows,
Stretch out and reach across, hold 'em firm,
Bathe into the playing light, fall between the folds.​

 

[sneb]

Poem : Quiet evening upon a quiet day

Quiet evening upon a quiet day,
Past laid
Quietly upon the white.

The memory of these moments,
And their dances: their colours spent
Into the effulgent sky.​

 

[sneb]

Poetry : Kiss me

Deep within this little flicker
Of your pursuing eyes,
Find my turning body hold it still
And defeat my escaping lips,
Hold them as if just born,
Hold them soft for they asked,
Let them between yours.

Under these changing lights,
The artificial halo of unfolding time,
My love! I have been arrested
By your relentless gaze.

​

 

[sneb]

Pandemonium : Time is slipping away from me

Time is slipping away, like a torn piece of cloth.
I can feel its ebbing hold which threatens to uncover my inheritance.
There are wolves under the shadows of the setting star,
I can sense their eyes preying on my shameful self blazing out in starlight.

What was my home, my soil, the basic nutrition for my growth,
Is threatened.
I can sense, slippage, loss, an emotion but buried inside my chest, a sliver of semblance,
I can feel this loss, this fading.

There are monsters in those pits, where my eyes can barely see, under the weight of the day
I can hardly understand, but then they exist, those predators, I know they are there.
Surely, and their existence is harrowing, clawing towards my home,
my core is within their pounce, and is at the edge of impurity, at the edge of their dogmatic ego,
And I do not have the wards to fight back, to resist.
​

 

[sneb]

Pandemonium : Fighting hurt.



If you have enough mascara in your bag, there is not one pair of eyes that can not plunge your heart in an abyss,
So deep, so vast,
(whispering) So frightening,
You would wish your eyes had not worked up this way.

Remember the machinery and you will never fall,
If you must though, in your bag,
Keep a hammer, and a nail, there are days when the winds turn wild and wrong,
All you have to do is nail your door to the wall
And wait out the storm.

I have a thousand suggestions, but I know better,
My being here, today, will do the trick.

 

[sneb]

Pandemonium : Seeming bravado

Deep within the layers of seeming bravado, there is a sense of shame. A disgust so laid out upon oneself, pure hatred for oneself as one looks into the mirrors. I believe there is a longing to not exist, a deeply buried wish to dismantle and separate, atoms away from atoms, to be pieced into fragments, each again into fragments; there is a desire to unwind, and untangle, this complexity is hurting.

But we have pushed the agony so far beneath the surface, it is like we have forgotten who we are supposed to me. The only song that pervades day in and day out is the song of our existence, whereas the truth could not be further than this.

We follow our shadows and call it the circle of life. We fall down and call it an opportunity to rise back. We fail and call it a phase in learning. We have created rooms in our houses. But I will tell you this, the shortcomings are there to disperse us into the naked winds. The falling is but a chance to mix into the soil. Heck! If you were to believe me, I say that the rooms are to separate our notions into boxes so that each box can be laid out into the deathly vacuum and left to rot into eternity. Our shadows are the perceptions, they are not our life. We keep going round into circles, for these circles are mundane seductions crafted to keep us occupied, maybe so that we stay put for some more time. In the end, it all comes to a halt, a glaring stop.

That is when the mirrors fall off, the boxes fall away, the world splinters into the vacuum that we so truly deserve. That is when our desires, the core of our wants revealed. People call it the end, I call it the naked beginning. That is when we become "us", what we are supposed to be.

What we have always been underneath these senses of false bravado, these lofty notions of ourselves. Under these garbs of fragrant false layers, the pointless, needless, mass of shame, failures, the empty and cursed heap of matter maybe is what we are!​

 

[sneb]

Poem : A brand of pain

Behind those eyes

Your eyes house a brand of pain,

One that can have no balm.

Beyond their brighten simmer

They stay so dark

No soul can pull you out.

Darling, beyond this simple smile

They wreck such havoc, such wars,

Every man is but a soldier without a cause.

I have been vanquished without a fight,

As have been many before me.

And yet, I continue to saunter in you,

I know I will die before I bleed,

But again, you have that rawness and it hurts like hell.

​

 

[sneb]

Pandemonium : All the while you slept...

They remember everything.
And when you do not know
Return to prick large corners out of your dreams.
When you finally wake up
You realise your diamonds gone,
Your crowns broken,
Your stories torn
And your hands bleeding.

Nobody did that to you
But as you slept you
Turned over your side
And walked onto a burning sword
That split your soul into pieces.
​

 

[sneb]

Pandemonium : Trapped within

I have been trapped inside my skin
For far too long.

There is nowhere to hide
For there are predators in the dark
And I am my captive.

I have learnt to stare into this abyss
Hoping my liberation shall grow out of it.

Some days there is no escape,
How can I undo my bondage
And even if with some pain I manage
I have only my shadow to rejoice.

The rooms stay empty
While my voices continue to ricochet.

There is a desire to light everything up
Settle the desolation to shameless fire.
​

 

[BlackCaramelCreme]

Beautiful

 

[sneb]

Beautiful

Thanks

 

[sneb]

Poem : Memory of you

There always is a deep agony in remembrance
And so I turn to your memories,
Which have left a rare shiver on my soul.

The only manner in which I fight my history
Is to continue to wage wars of my heart
And relish and revisit you leaving.

​

 

[sneb]

Poem : An ode to you, love

My delight! The breeze without the masquerading dress,
Like the salt and the sea, married into one;
My passion! You are the flower that has born
But to never wilt, for within the pause in my breath
As I gasp and moan, you have filled my lips
With your burgeoning passion and the deepening taste.

My love! For as are many moments mortal,
You but are not, for in form and purpose
You own my flesh and soul, and everything surviving
In between, as in the light and the shadow,
Darling! Your are the memories and the remembrances,
You are both, the raging ocean and the quiet sunset
That is laid out everyday right at the edge of my soul.

You are everything and more, I can barely whisper,
But I hope my songs bring you in and help you stay longer.
​

​

 

[Rosa2019]

A fresh flower from my garden for poet Sneb

 

[sneb]

A fresh flower from my garden for poet Sneb

Hi Rosa,

Your visit here is humbling and your offering has spread such pristine beauty to my verbal efforts here. A pretty flower, thanks.
I can experience the fragrance along with the colors, such vibrancy and such freshness. Much gratitude!