Sunday, August 8, 2010

off the perch

dark nebulous room, no moon, eyelids can’t bat,
taut clutch of its density, gasp in the grasp; destiny
tied with last hope, time taking place,
in the non-breathing dreams, day-trapped fireflies,
locked in mislaid doorjambs, wedging fallow womb’s,
in the strait for flight, a sticking night overlies
a black claret vein, giving off a self’s getaways,
evading, in vain, ill fated ways,
in to the essential dark night,
vivid as darkness, a spot with an abated intellect,
remote in a small makeshift night of deceit;
tapping me with my body trapped
in the cerebral portholes, gaping neurotic Elysium,
where, there is a nowhere,
a night’s perceiver alternating, now, here.
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Jodi MacArthur said...

Gorgeous dark poetry, Shashi. For some reason, it reminds me of insomnia. This is what insomnia feels like.

Reading your work is a treat.

Missy Ricco said...

The inner eye flickers carefully in the darkness.

Debrah Riddleton said...

Dear Shashi:
It is a deep pleasure to meet you visiting my blog. We appreciate and value it. Moreover, the realization that you are the creator of Dream is a vagabond, I was even more impressed because I am fan of your awesome blog.
I promise to carefully read your work. You have in me a passionate fan of your friend.

Debrah Riddleton said...

Dear Shashi:
I perceive a very strong poetry, deep and intense. I am impressed with your phrases. They are shorts and eloquents. I like it so much. I will continue...