vvannabe

Even the faintest glimmer that sparks in a manipulator's eye, turns it blind.

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  • vvannabe 2w

    #writersnetwork #mirakee #readwriteunite #desert #forests #desire #human @writersnetwork @mirakee


    Victims of afforestation

    I leaned on the wooden frame of the door, carved blocks bearing the weight. I like the stillness that summer afternoons impose. Even the few beings that straddle by, appreciate and caress the quite.

    I miss that bead of sweat rolling down the temple of my head, the cold that ensued with the gust of searing wind licking at that bead and the smile that was donned, the visage lying bare, for I was back at home.

    I miss staring at the fleet of clouds, the young rushing quickly, eager for some distant encounter while the wise and old drifting, constantly reshaped by torrents of air.

    I miss the touch of cold water, on a parched throat. Into the gullet, the fluid but flowed. And the delicacies, fuming an aroma to enshroud, dripping a mirage to drown.

    A tear wells up, somewhere in my eye. When I recall, that quite night in daylight. For I was born, in a desert with an abundance of will and a thirsty appetite. My heart clenches a bit, from a hopeless dream, where I could relive a past, where I'm lonely, yet free.

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    Victims of afforestation

    Where desire fabricates a parochial tower,
    Where the multitude takes over the few,
    Where empathy makes the taste sour,
    You'll find a human, naked and standing true.

    ©vvannabe

  • vvannabe 2w

    #writersnetwork #mirakee #readwriteunite #lust #darkpoetry #thoughts #dark



    Often, a human's folly
    Bubbles in the cauldron
    Of a wishful thought,
    Attempting the dire
    Act of fulfilling few foolish desires.

    I wish I had the tongue
    To taste the velvety gloss
    To grapple with enticing tongues
    To lick the parted lids
    To unfurl, a pity lie.

    I wish I had the arms
    To hold a lover's head
    To help a dying friend
    To pull those brunette strings
    To choke, a perfect kill.

    I wish I had the heart
    To paint her with a red hue
    To brush past a passerby, still new
    To fix a leaking hole
    To deliver cruelty, a blissful goal.

    I wish I hadn't brewed
    A thought for the fleeting mistress
    A thought for the false friends
    A thought for a mellow future
    Yet another, with some rolling heads.

    Read More

    Thinking dark, yet grey

    I wish I had the heart
    To paint her with a red hue
    To brush past a passerby, still new
    To fix a leaking hole
    To deliver cruelty, a blissful goal.
    ©vvannabe

  • vvannabe 3w

    #writersnetwork #mirakee #readwriteunite #ferry #death #greed #pod #mirakeeworld

    For the ferryman

    For the ferryman I gather,
    Coins
    Shimmering red and regal
    From some coffers that brimmed
    For the coffers that can't be filled.

    For the ferryman I gather,
    Infantile anxiousness
    With fear's concoction green,
    Brewed in carnal chalice
    Bubbling lustful dreams.

    For the ferryman I gather,
    Scrolls from when I was a teen
    And a few entries
    From the time
    When my eyes lost that gleam.

    For the ferryman I gathered,
    To ferry an inherited greed
    To ferry the emotions that bleed
    To ferry a dark past
    To ferry this palpable death mask.

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    For the ferryman

    For the ferryman I gathered,
    To ferry an inherited greed
    To ferry the emotions that bleed
    To ferry a dark past
    To ferry this palpable death mask.
    ©vvannabe

  • vvannabe 3w

    This cloud is blue

    Where the blue tries to peep
    The white but seeps
    Where the dark shadow flutters through
    And another jet but darts anew
    Leaving a trail of white
    Aah! Another foolish wish
    This time to ride a kite.
    Standing in the dark, eyes glaring
    Just another human, staring.
    ©vvannabe

  • vvannabe 4w

    #writersnetwork #mirakee #psycho

    @regulus_azazel @pa_luck @rhapsodist @soulwriter @loopofthoughts @writersnetwork @champagnesupernova @i_faha

    Thanks for taking the time.��

    Well I'll try. Cold wind here would be life in general, how it leaves one with so many gaps, voids, with the person pining to fill the numerous voids. The absence of fur coat might indicate the lack of support structures for a person, the silk representing the potential of being rich/ resourceful/ happy.
    You can also find it meaningful when the words are interpreted literally.

    Pale wry crescent would be the moon in literal sense, or friends/ people close to oneself; whose light gets dimmed by the lights of a city (along with other things) or merely the street light obscuring it, in this case or the people close to you get overshadowed by the fleeting infatuation towards other people. Both can be considered a recluse on a background of darkness/ something that leads to aversion by it's nature, causing imperfection (blotching) of either.

    Subjected to such conditions, one might commit a deed considered not so prideful in a community (be it addictions, crime, self harm, etc). The cracked feet (mentioned above) leaving an imprint (audible thumps) on the minds of people that dissolves all the deeds (be they good or indifferent) from past, crafting a new sculpture in their minds. Or it can be the narrator walking a road, bare feet, with no fur coat to shield from the cold, under a street light, in hours with no one around, where even his injured feet make audible sounds.

    Thumping heart with failures would be the person trying to hold on, despite all that's going on. Jaundiced eyes indicate diseased person/ alcohol addict/ pathologic vision or view of the world, rimmed red would be diseased person/ red from crying/ the blood rushing to the eyes so the person can heal his version of this new world to a sustainable one (like the one in it's past). No corners left to cry would be helplessness eliciting itself, with no corners for tears to well up or no corners left to hide and cry. Dry lips might be a thirst for happiness/ love. Or it can be the cold constricting peripheral vessels with heart failing to supply the hands, feet, etc., with the person already sick (jaundiced eyes,etc) and poorly fed (dry lips).

    Shadow of light would indicate the person hidden in spotlight/ hiding a part of self unknown to people close to it, etc/ splitting oneself into an undesirable part (shadow) that is derived from the mellow, decent person (light). No passerby/ people encountered in life can take a peek/ sustain an observation, at this part of self or no passerby can bother after you discard the cluster of emotions related to that. There would be not much crying/ pain/ agony/ remorse after leaving all the empathy behind (no rivulets to dry). Or the narrator finds shelter under the street light, all alone in the cold night, with the body devoid of all water, and the person too tired/ dehydrated to even cry for his/her/their sorry state.

    Cold strides to the victim, leaving the humane part behind, the psychopath hunts, on a winter's night.
    Or the narrator is forced to commit crimes to survive, for the past behaviour of good will and morals could only,at best, get him/her/them to a state like this.

    The choice would be decided by the title. Which one would you choose?


    Psychopath

    Cold wind riddled me
    With numerous pines
    Tugging at the silk
    With no fur coat to hide
    On a winter's night
    Another poor guy

    Peering at that pale wry crescent
    Overshadowed by a street light
    A sweet recluse
    Blotching the dark sky
    On a winter's night

    Audible thumps
    From cracked feet
    Echoing in the quiet
    Crafted
    On a winter's night

    A thumping heart
    Pumping cold failures
    At extremities
    Suffusing
    Jaundiced eyes
    Rimmed red
    With no corners left to cry
    And a pair of lips
    That were always dry
    Aah another winter's night

    Under the shadow of light
    I stood
    With no passerby
    To gawk at
    And no rivulets to dry

    This winter's night
    With cold strides
    I left a human behind.

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    Psychopath

    Jaundiced eyes
    Rimmed red
    With no corners left to cry
    And a pair of lips
    That were always dry
    Aah another winter's night

    ©vvannabe

  • vvannabe 5w

    #writersnetwork #mirakee


    Deathbed

    How'd one start
    For the end
    To be a sudden bliss
    Drenched in wilful ignorance.

    When did it begin
    For me
    To hanker for that
    Last breath.

    Where can one find
    An erased thought
    Pretending
    Death will never be mine.

    Which one shall I leave
    Behind
    A wailing mother
    Or a numb child?

    What place shall I rest
    A burgeoning memory
    Or a dripping
    Regret.

    I was ready then
    I'm ready now.
    Why do you keep saving me?
    Me with an imperfect bow.

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    Deathbed

    I'm ephemeral, like the memories of a life
    I'm comfortable, like a sweet recluse in time
    I'm pleading, like a lover's shrill cry
    I'll beckon, the one's with closed eyes.

    ©vvannabe

  • vvannabe 5w

    #writersnetwork #mirakee #rain #nature #gratitude #hospital

    @regulus_azazel @pa_luck @rhapsodist @mentalhydra @vina_puth @pocketsmile @vatiph @i_faha @pragatii

    Droplets here would be thoughts, strikes would be gratitude, thunder would be grief, discontentment,etc.


    Gratitude

    A scarcity here,
    The droplets pouring down
    On pavement
    Of the hospital's ground.

    I peered below
    Through that opalescent pane
    Resting at a windowsill.
    With no spectrum to spare,
    The eyes closed,
    I but hear

    Droplets striking the window pane
    Droplets striking rustling leaves
    Droplets striking carved wood
    Droplets striking the puddle that was there

    The strikes drowning
    In an evanescent
    Thunder
    Of an ephemeral
    Grey clad sky.

    I wished for myself
    A droplet for petite head
    A droplet for twisted limb
    Another for broken lips
    Yet I crave one for closed lids.

    I opened my eyes
    Visible spectrum rushing in.
    It was just another monsoon
    In the pediatric wing.

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    Gratitude

    I opened my eyes
    Visible spectrum rushing in.
    It was just another monsoon
    In the pediatric wing.

    ©vvannabe

  • vvannabe 5w

    #writersnetwork #mirakee


    There were lights then. There are lights still.
    Cold wind scraped my skin, turning the environ into a numb playground. As I closed my eyes I found myself down that road again. I sat, comfortable, finding an escape from that desolate place, no matter how ephemeral it might be. It'd be tempting to convince one's self, to explain one's act and affect as something driven by the cravings of a physical form. Have you inflicted this curse upon yourself as well?

    I was traveling, shielded from that encroaching cold by the hides of a vehicle. The hearth harkens, to a child's wishful world making one of it's last stands. The dance of shadows, choreographed by the alliance of street lights and the moving silence, was my childhood's trance.
    I wondered then, I wonder still.

    On the backseat of a two manned automobile, I recalled that sober trance. With cold wind slithering beneath the layer of a product of tanned leather, donned with a grey tinge and a mockery of shoulder guard, sold under the pretense of a jacket, with a numb face's embrace, I bowed my head and saw that dance again.
    I had chains then, I'm chained still.

    One can hope to capture that exultation in the tangle of signs, only to realise a failure. It wasn't the exhilaration you might experience from the warm comforting arm wrapped around self, under a blue vista, over the burgeoning fresh scent spewed fresh on mornings from a meadow. It wasn't the escalation achieved in a lover's embrace, the self consumed in the carnal desires. Nay, it was neither the joy of an achievement, nor of a sweet recollection. It never bordered around the helplessness that lies like a shroud over a span, turning grief into a way of life. The feeling that you might experience, when there's nothing to crave and a glistening blade rests in your palm, waiting to lick the wrists red, wasn't the one holding my heart then. Neither it emanated the taste that dark deeds leave, sometimes bitter, sometimes sweet.
    I couldn't let it go then, I let go now.

    It was a premonition of sorts, yet I can't remember the ones I held close, in that moment. In the bleak darkness at the end of the curvature in the road, I could finally sense light. Would you give it your cold stare, would you shiver, cower in fear? Or would you accept it like a promise, a promise kempt, a promise delivered? With head lying in a warm pool on the hard asphalt, I let the heavy lids droop. Some distant cry, to hold on, to never let go. O how the fool betrayed my perfect blue, painted with a red hue.

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    Almost dead

    The dance of shadows, choreographed by the alliance of street lights and the moving silence, was my childhood's trance.

    ©vvannabe

  • vvannabe 8w

    #writersnetwork #mirakee #faith #leap @i_faha @champagnesupernova @rhapsodist @pa_luck @meghana_sanam @jade_711 @anonymousquill @deliriousgirl @the_lonewolf



    Leap of faith

    I think I'll fall
    When the petrichor thick in the air,
    The sweet fragrance of death
    Lingering
    Over freshly sliced blades of grass
    And the odour of decaying petals
    Gets swallowed
    By the aphrodisiac aroma of your flesh.

    I think I'll fall
    When luscious moans
    In the cold quite night
    Of a winter's charm
    Turns me deaf
    To the gentle clanks
    Of a wind chime
    Dangling in the dry hot torrents
    Of a summer afternoon.

    I think I'll fall
    When your eyes could pierce through
    When your tongue can taste trickling blood
    When your nose can smell the layer of fear
    When your ears can hear the echoing throes
    When your fingers caress the shriveled hide

    I think I'll fall
    Only so you can catch hold
    And break me a little more.

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    Leap of faith

    I think I'll fall
    Only so you can catch hold
    And break me a little more.
    ©vvannabe

  • vvannabe 9w

    #writersnetwork #mirakee #lust @writersnetwork

    Dam I hate rhymes ��

    @kinky_eskimo @mentalhydra @pa_luck @deliriousgirl @thelone_wolf @i_faha @champagnesupernova @lucky_unlucky @pocketsmile


    The
    chains rattled
    With tender wrists tugging
    Standing erect, a thought grew.


    With a dark brown gleam, In her parted lips
    Violaceous lids I plunder
    let go a dainty tongue
    Of another and a surrender
    mascara stream. My lips give
    As I licked a soft squeeze
    The crimson coat to her lobes
    that was bit. And that neck crease

    Stiff nipples An evanescent grip
    Were devoured on her
    With fingers mound
    In her And a belly
    Mouth riddled with
    She but kisses
    Growled. all around.

    Choked throat Between my lips
    Sounded lies the clit
    A proffer trapped
    For her With each
    Parted gentle thrust
    Lids curled lips
    I had a echoing moan
    Stiff tighter
    offer. she wrapped

    Which one shall you choose?
    A superficial
    or
    a deep bruise

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    An invite

    Kids steer clear.

    ©vvannabe