In the invidiously ghastly silence that enshrouds me; when even the most ferociously turbulent of waves; wholesomely refrained to culminate; after sighting the contours of my plaintively impoverished face,
In the pathetically hedonistic silence that enshrouds me; when even the most
voluptuously sapphire of clouds; wholesomely refrained to thunder; after sighting the appalling dullness in my eyes,
In the mercilessly maiming silence that enshrouds me; when even the most
inscrutably enlivening forests; wholesomely refrained to whisper; after sighting the haplessly crinkled veins on my feet,
In the ominously egregious silence that enshrouds me; when even the most
majestically crimson lotus; wholesomely refrained to blossom; after sighting
the horrifically jutting bones of my flailing persona,
In the diabolically stabbing silence that enshrouds me; when even the most
royally towering lion; wholesomely refrained to roar; after sighting the cringe of fetidly decaying yellow clinging to my cluster of teeth,
In the vindictively devilish silence that enshrouds me; when even the most vociferously effervescent of bees; wholesomely refrained to buzz; after sighting the tears of directionless delirium in my eyes,
In the hideously cannibalistic silence that enshrouds me; when even the most
uncontrollably spiraling fires; wholesomely refrained to crackle; after sighting the miserably defeated philosopher in my breath,
In the flagrantly disconcerting silence that enshrouds me; when even the
most aristocratically gliding eagles; wholesomely refrained to screech; after sighting the frigid barrenness of my freshly tonsured scalp,
In the truculently venomous silence that enshrouds me; when even the most
vividly astounding rainbows; wholesomely refrained to shimmer; after sighting the inanely livid dialect of my slavering tongue,
In the murderously asphyxiating silence that enshrouds me; when even the
most charismatically jet black scorpions; wholesomely refrained to sting; after sighting the innumerable knots in my deplorably battered writer's finger,
In the criminally cadaverous silence that enshrouds me; when even the most limitlessly cascading waterfalls; wholesomely refrained to gurgle; after sighting the ungainly stubble of barbarous beard; upon the sagging flesh of my cheeks,
In the disgustingly incarcerating silence that enshrouds me; when even the
most sensuously virgin dewdrops; wholesomely refrained to titillate; after sighting the perennially lingering yawn of my indolently wretched mouth,
In the cold-bloodedly demonic silence that enshrouds me; when even the most
unabashedly arousing of storms; wholesomely refrained to gush; after sighting the remnants of nothing else but maniacal gloominess; strewn all over my quavering spine,
In the insidiously lecherous silence that enshrouds me; when even the most
brilliantly optimistic of Sun; wholesomely refrained to blaze; after sighting the mist of hopelessness predominantly reigning in each of my senses,
In the carnivorously deathly silence that enshrouds me; when even the most
pristinely antiquated bells; wholesomely refrained to chime; after sighting the ghoulishly dying footprints of my sole,
In the drearily lambasting silence that enshrouds me; when even the most
undauntedly silken snakes; wholesomely refrained to hiss; after sighting the blood that had now turned a febrile blue; in my severely starved veins,
In the torturously inconsolable silence that enshrouds me; when even the most spell bindingly heavenly dawn; wholesomely refrained to sermonize; after sighting the lethally anomalous clouds of sullenness; hovering round my nape,
In the ignominiously diseased silence that enshrouds me; when even the most
fervently compassionate heart; wholesomely refrained to beat; after sighting the reverberations that the earth underwent; with each of my bohemian tread,
If there was really something at all that enlightened me; if there was really something at all that befriended me; and if there was really something at all that inspired me to the ultimate heavens of the divine; then it was none other than my; unconquerably unrestricted and unimpeachably glorious "Fantasy".
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Life = Death - volume 10 - Poems on Life , Death
कविताThis Book which has 34 differently titled Poems , is actually volume 10 of the Book titled - Life = Death - Poems on Life , Death ( 1200 pages ) . This enigmatic collection of poems explores and equates the boundless possibilities of life and death...
