Stray dogs howl into broken glass
poisoned by
sealed silicon packets
hidden in
user friendly throwaways when
yesterdays are martyred today.
Fingers stray over strings,
melting into blood and dew
desert sand trickling through corn ears,
a symphony in anamnesis of a myopic era.
Morning chill
doodles on it’s moist back
wide eyed innocence
bridled to the tethers of
some secret desire to unhinge,
to don the unfitting clothes
of the child within.
A new dream:
falling heights
music dripping of its peak
Wind swimming through its hair
Honey whispering in its ears
A breath of freshness,
a raga
of uncut rocks and pearls
laved by waves and tides
blood and dew
wetting its mossy skin
A taste of longing
Lingering off its dry tongue
The worlds light in
a tear
shed of it’s wound
The sky’s blue,
it’s face lucent over heaven’s silver
Life, a canticle on it’s lips
Death, a Cimmerian tempest in it’s eye.
via tumblr http://renutva.tumblr.com/post/15572627762
“The Solicitors of Whim”
It was a sketch I had to draw over a shaky bus ride after seeing the inside of the fortified “non-existent-country”. It would be impossible to summarise the emotions that I felt seeing the huge pieces of graffiti and art that wrapped the insides of the wall. It deserves a dedicated series of poetry for sure.
Irony was… for some reason I found them unbelievably beautiful.
A sketch from the “A Sketchy View of a Mystical Land” Series
via tumblr http://renutva.tumblr.com/post/15520886158
