Tag Archives: poem

understand

you are restricted by your functioning mind

i’m restricted by my high functionality 

they think nothing is wrong

what is wrong is me

burnt 

broken

bled till i’m read

and you can tell me all the riddles that lie in my mind

because nothing is wrong with me?

you are restricted by your functioning mind

and I am restricted by the constraints you place upon me


hollow

I hate the world and it’s beasts

Where it reeks of hallow death

With bright pearl eyes

And blood red strangles

Where only the wise woman weeps


liar

You could be filthy,

ravaged,

desolate

but lets not pretend ever in despair


i


pocket full of flesh

Don’t bind me and cut me and forage me down

I am not a tree to be cut down by your venomous axe

you want to purge me and rid me climb me and conquer me.

My vines will eat you

Trap you

Suppress you

Power is not what you posses

Just as you are you will remain

A pocket full of Flesh

Flesh of my Flesh, Blood of my Blood


skeleton

Smile skies of reddy blue

Uneven tapestry of me bathing my arms

Sectioned body

Anatomy ready to be read

With your scalpel I meet my fate

With smiles

Meditative Sword ©Kiran Kaur


take me on

1940 Lupe Velez

She bled like warm fields of trenched hearts

Emasculated into one

Trying to break unity

As their pace hardened

Trickling ventricles tightly bound

Eyes transfixed on lust

Pouring out heat

As warm wax melted on her

Blending shades of her skin


i love

Lupe Vélez

When i create and cry

When i write and wallow

when i handwrite and hate

i recite and recall

verse and virile

and speak

entice

consciousness


Fry

frozen

frozen beside me

inside me nothing crawls

but strangled thoughts and blazed feelings

the ice feels alive

trickling strong down my sides

lighting my flesh on fire

shrieking, hollering, shooting

stains of abhorrent love

be seeded by blinded hate

masked by the lust that wraps us

gorge and feed your soul

for it hath no decency


lick

Write for me

Write for me again

Like dried lyrics

Circling the walls

Spitting led against the surface

Splintering holes

graphic edges

to be seen and read

to hear and to be felt

smudge your fingers

slide down these brackets

let me taste your words