Double Jeopardy

Double Jeopardy 

Friday's Aphorism Prompt on SLOP

Fluttering eyelashes

Shrug off grief

Metallic cascades of glitter,

Mascara down sordid cheeks.

The sodden stuff of life

Weighing down the mind,

Heavy straws pulled,

Wrong choices,

Strong passions,

Avenues of double jeopardy.

There's no tracing back

The crazy garden path

Let me make the best of

The worst of it.

Pluck a crimson flower

Where my heart bleeds,

He loves me,

He loves me not.

Opaque future

That even Time

Has forgot.

Promises I will not miss

In my heart weighs heavy water,

Frothy blood splattered areoles

Hiding vacuums of unease.

Confidence faked, eyes slant up, reflecting

Sunshine, perfect decorum feigned,

Smile please.

© Amrita Valan 2017

A World That Is

A World That Is

The world on this

Hot summer evening

Is a searing bordello,

A nomad's land,

A war zone,

A slaughterhouse,

A field seeping tears,

Blood, bones rancid sweat,

Defeat and despair.

Far too many die in vain

To fulfil heinous, 

Murderous purpose.

The Government

Swats us flies for sport

Letting loose hellhounds,

Hackles raised on an

Unsuspecting populace.

It's all dumb charades

And masquerades,

It's all charnel houses,

Unholy massacres in fancy dress.

Dressed up in righteous garbs of

Liberators, on rescue missions from

Arcane arks, Jihad, KKK or IRA

Petty terrorism, corpses piled sky-high

For highest stakes.

In a world of fake, sponsored news

Death's fatal encounters are real,

The rest, prepaid or misled views. 

In the world of propaganda, smoke and 

Mirrors, the slaughter of innocents,

The children is real.

In a world of Crony capitalism,

Vote bank fostering, red herrings

The rape of women, their enslavement

Is  real.

Only the cause, only the realpolitik

Fabricated. Backroom deals. 

Unreal.

Fantastic claims, fabulous conspiracies

Clouded causes, deathly effects.

As the bodies lie scattered in dreaming comas,

I am more than afraid that their deaths

Have not really been, in vain, 

As tweeted, as proclaimed. 

In grave tragic tones, by eminent men.

Somewhere in a petty private caucus, a

Selfish cause served; a mercenary aim gained.

More truly wicked than you or I can imagine.

Higher up than you or I can contemplate

For some phantasmagorical mythic beasts

Deadly horsemen of the apocalypse,

Corpses are tumblers, logical numbers

Clicking us into slotted fates, 

Positions allotted, for their 

End game.

© Amrita Valan 2017

Mother

Mother

Mother is my first friend

My first love

My first guide

My first lady

She, who held my hand

To cross the street

Who made each meal,

every bedtime,

A gentle treat.

Mother

Is my frail soul now,

Trying to guide two sons,

To the right path,

The living brilliance,

Breathing radiance

That is life,

If lived truly

From the heart.

Mother is frail and

Her soul needs mine,

To sustain her strength

To live, to abide,

With pain and misery

That age and sickness brings.

I am sickened to my heart

That the relief she seeks,

The Gods with who she fervently pleads

Do not listen, hear, or heed. 

When she prostrates her head

To each deity, every idol, 

All the divine pictures mounted 

on the walls of her homestead.

I must be strong though tears come,

It was mother…

Who named me “Amrita.”

The indestructible one.

Ma, I bow my soul to be the arrow

On your heart string.

May God use me my mother, 

To alleviate your suffering.

© Amrita Valan 2017

Et tu

Fool for Words.

Was Judas a hypocrite?
When he gave the famous kiss?
Was Shylock a devious knave
Bartering his soul
Over a pound of flesh?
Was Brutus false to his friend
When Caesar's life he put to an end
And was Lucifer really so treacherous?
When he wanted equal footing
With God, alas?

We will never know
And can't forget, for...

"The evil that men do
Lives after them...
While the good is oft interred
With their bones"

Truer words than these Julius never said.
;)

So et tu my friend?
Is this how it ends?

(c) Amrita Valan 2017

Smoke on air

Ravaged wizened canny soul
Eyes reflective of the whole
Of life lived upon this earth
Anguish agony, of home and hearth

Hope and faith that ordeals bore
Tears spilt, withheld within the core
Sending SOS signs smoke on air
A certain cynical guile, an yearning
Perhaps, only God can hear.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017

God be with ye

Feelings....
Sigh...Is this a poem?  ,,🤔

Feeling kind of sweet
Like mellow pumpkins
(I certainly fit the body type
And am an unabashed foodie!)
Feeling  really sweet tongued,
(Must be the gooey eclair
Slushing in my mouth)
Can food be erotic?
If music be the food of gods
Then dreams are their ambrosia
And they're crushing
On my lips raining kisses
In my ears.

And I of honeysuckle lips feel free
To shower you some sugary confetti
For I have been up at twilight
And roamed with vampyres and sprites
My heart opened up to
Source codes of light.

Now I am melting embracing dusk
Till the dark soothes my eyes
And makes longing spark.
I'm waiting for memories buds
To open up till eyes dim
And I gain access, night vision,
Supra clarity in Divinity 's park.

So this blessed eve, till evening falls,
I watch the lone crow
Solitary unconfined
Upon a distant wall
Solo survivor of mythic despair
Some over the edge siren's call
Haunting the air.

I watch a trail of cars
Beetle by..
The old man dozing
By his fruit stall.
Busy working world
Oblivious, insight
Is all.

And in the corner
Of my vision
Curtaining the romping air
Trail of yellowed green leaves
Wave me,
God be with ye fair.

It will be the prettiest time
Of my life,
Though years will pass by
This fruitful moment stays ripe
Fresh and fecund
Dripping promise
honey upon my homely walls
My heart twirls in the breeze
Like ripe wheat in the open field
I rejoice
In this power I feel
The power of staying still
This potency
To do anything.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017

Amrita's Dream

Vanilla ice

Soft stubble
Hint of grey
And I am sold
What so far seemed
A laughable thing
Suddenly is no more
And Much more
Than reality.

You're so kind
A Sunbeam upon my soul
Sweetness has never touched me so
Always a soft spot a frisson

For the ones gone rough
At the edges
Defiant dreamer, borderland of bad.

My soul genuflects.
Praying. 

Rain of blessings.

Sourced the dream.
Happiness is effortless dominion.

Willingly pleased 

I am detached, kind.
An unobserved observation.

I shiver at the thought

Of this chance of a lifetime
That I must allow
To pass by.

Ours is not
The Time.

Yet some sweet moments
Are predestined.

I care  Not crave.

I rave and rejoice this meeting.

I'm not ravenous.

Or craven 

This addiction is
Fulfilled.

Thank you.
I have known you.
And been known 

If this be love
Then it's blameless
Pure and blessed.
Snow White.
Delicious vanilla lingering
Upon chaste ice.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017

CTU poem continuation

Lyne Beringer

Anybody want to continue the story?

If you go around
To a room in the back
Head down a flight of stairs
You'll find a mysterious woman
Waiting to sell you her wares.....

Beware
Enter not in truth
Nor of dare
For in the darkness
Hidden in the back
Lies her lust spun
Spider's bed
If you must enter there
I regretfully must say
You've become her alluring
Ghastly prey
Where you'll be caged
In your self made rage
Fed up by her romance
Her lonely Blackmoon dance
So enter not on freewill
Nor by chance
Accept not a single dare
Interest not in her wears
Ignore the mysterious woman's
Seductive stares

© Markus Fleischmann

Or else ignore the truth
And take on the dare
Perchance twas fate
That sets this blind date
With sweet strange seductress
Woman of mystery
Or siren or ghoul
Below dark stairs?

Find her on faith
Forgive the error
Of her ghastly ways
Perched on her shoulder
Be archangel
Always
protective talisman
Guard her soul
From hell.

And if her fatal face
Her dreadful charm
Pins you down
Her hapless prey
Pray her soul
Be yours to take
Tis no harm to
To break this
Seal
Even though it
Brings about
The end of days....

(c) Amrita Valan 2017

Take me in

To write
You need must wield a pen
Shower ink from mind
As clear as rain
Where will I
Find my music then?

For sodden
Sorrows cloud my heart
A vital need to write
But no heart to start
How can I touch you
Make you feel my part?

Can I show you
Through Instagram
Upload a video
Of my bleeding brain?
Can I show you how
Sanity denuded my soul
Would you shudder and pause
And swipe the screen
To wipe away the unseemly stain
Perhaps my revolting pain
Should remain unseen?

Take my angel hair
Plucked out from this demonic sink
Of a thousand thoughts
That gurgling overflows the brink

Each a string to pluck
Upon my heart.
Pushing sanity
With each beat
And start.

I pull out bunches
With bloodied nails
Spiritually in my coccyx dwell
I cannot rise
Shall my poem
Be the stuff
Of lies?

Or the haunted lizard's
Fallen tail
An omen potent
Enough to fail
And yet release
The life Within
A flick and swish
A dying wish

I'm a woman
Who would brush
Off fate
Yet court destiny
By hell's deathless gates
Can I convince
Despite my countless sins
I'm as pure and free
And deserve to be
An entrant
Through the pearly gates
Just as much
As those spotless angels
Who're all going in.

This makes no sense
This text too dense
My soul in a seance
My mind the lens
That flares the paper
Where are written
The timeless dares
Truth eschewed
For glamorous food

Brooding upon the
Dark side
My hypnosis is
Near complete

I am listless lost and hovering
Will you still understand
And let me in?

Naked upon the rocking chair
Of fate
I am swinging past the pearly gates
Take me in my unholy state
For I have confessed
Exposed myself.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017

The Humanist Beast

Truth is I am so angry... By the bloody minded relentless ridiculing of Hinduism in toto, by this dangerous new breed of  "Humanists".
Why?
Because of a few of its flaws, the whole of it must be demonized.
Why?
Because it's fashionable to make fun of the Hindus in the name of the hindutva brigade.

Why?
Because it's relatively safer than attacking the fatwa/jihad/Daesh brigade.

Why?
Because it's easier to tear down with sarcasm than to recreate and reform with patience.

Call yourselves Humanists.
I call you out as intolerant megalomaniacs who think they have a monopoly on Truth and Reason.
No empathy. No Humanity.
Period.

The Humanist beast

The Humanist beast
doth attack
And tear in shreds
The truth he cannot stomach
Yet needs must
Truly dread.

They hunt in packs
Quote dubious stacks
Of half truths and lies
Out sourced ignorance
Spreading concocted news
Spin doctors
Of vice.

With no lack of assurance
They pretend faux tolerance
But cannot accept genuine
Difference of views
If you're not preaching to the choir
(Of angels they think they're)
Then you're simply no use.

And instead of pausing to give
The benefit of doubt
They pompously post
Insane unbalanced poison
Then haughtily declare,
Over and out.

The humanist beast
Feels free to slander and shout
From their cloistered clouds
They mock everyone,
Except the ones who irresponsibly tout,
That the houses others built are crooked
So should be pulled down,
While their pathological pretences
Are hallowed ground.

The humanist beast
Hasn't a reasonable human heart
To use his rational mind to unite,
Not cast Barbaria's
stones that hurt.

Oh the Humanist beast
He wants the world to be
A better place.

In feral pursuit of this
He loses both,
Reason and grace.

He nit picks and mocks all
Those are the hallmarks of a fool
What he cannot understand
He must always ridicule.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017

Ahm Clex so right about the Like Button on fb being " also for choosing sides in an argument without commenting."

Nascent Life

The sky is dappled
Dark demonic shapes
Take possession
The air is light sepia silver
Toned
Golden shores pounding
In their flesh and bone.
Father's arm guides
First born son
Through death disease and darkness
To the living dawn
Step by step
On sleepers slope
Tracking a nascent morn
Of glorious hope.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017

Death's Deception

Death is kismet
The missing piece, in
Life's jigsaw puzzle
The final peace.

Sombre nights spent
In unease
Trying to figure out
the ethereal whisper
In the languid breeze.

Stripping the soul off
Beauty's face
Laser gazing
Through time and space
My eyes do burn
Shadows deeper fall
I cannot this mystery
Penetrate.

Beautiful in the
Wicked night
Hangs a question mark
Eloquently tight
That squeezes summer's hearts
With wintry pain
Deathly beloved
Is Absence then.

I know you not.
Whom I must know.
I escape into you
From Time's deathly throes.
I can't outrun my fate
To find you
My final friend.

Your name upon my
Lips
The birth cry of the babe.

Death the kismet
The last escape
The wormhole
Whose other pallid end
Could perhaps be Light
Or even blacker hole
Necromantic romancer
Of hopeless souls
Tell me your amazing story
A groundhog's day tale
Caressing the broken  heart
That in your icy embrace
Must learn to fail.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017