Vulnerable Poems

When our mind becomes vulnerable It marks the incidence of fear We are petrified of everything A mishappening seems near There is a conundrum inside us Life doesn’t seem clear Fear engulfs our thought process It takes away our wisdom

My inability to get hurt Like dead flesh It doesn’t hurt like a fresh rose When stomped Dead flesh sees future Of being hung After cut for steaks.. It doesn’t complain or Can it complain after being dead? Feathers ceded

Anticipating my imminent release, drenched in spoiled love, stifling sweetness encompasses my heart and swallows my body whole. my rapidly racing fingers reach for your soul in the depths of my sex. the air forces its way outside of my

There’s something about the feeling i get, when i’m lying on my shower floor slumped down, looking at the water travelling down my body as if the water will wash away my identity, my sins and insecurities that it is

Life….This is not a fairy tale that we all dream of, fantasize or speculate it to be. Nobody promises us that, not even God. Life is an amalgamation, of those really fantastic, fanciful, sometimes phenomenal, remarkably awesome days and of

I’m watching us in my mind’s eye bound together like thunder and lightning to get away from the world and into secret places We’re gushing alive flaming flickering love bursting born leaving nothing to chance until we fade out. Then…

But to fully know love you must love yourself. And that is one of the hardest loves to know. To love ourselves is to find ourselves worthy, worthy of being a part. Worthy of being connected. To love is fully

Lets start from where we all know it best, Once upon a time…. Away from cruelty and crime, Lived a beautiful LOVE, Peaceful and contented as a dove. Clever and witty, With smiles so pretty. Naive and vulnerable the soul,

What is it’s essence? Is it like a vulnerable, Hemingway-portrayed skiff being tossed about by changing waves of feelings, urges, yearning? Is it like a spoilt compass, it’s nervous needle half-trembling, rotating in illogical, unscientific, fickle-minded fashion, unable to be

The moths came in pitch darkness of that night towards the flickering flame of the candle I lit to cry all night to relive, from pain of stings inflicted by thousands of wasps, the yellow banded ones, wild and ferocious, the

The tears have fallen; The Blood has shed. I might be hearing voices. I think I’m in a nightmare. My mind is spinning in a thousand directions; What is happening? I’m feeling out of control; This seems out of my

I stand naked At the window A rough wind Disarranges my hair Harsh sun rays Beat my bosom Into a merciless submission And I cringe at the touch Of your manipulative fingers My conscience Is like bad breath Reeking of

The room was dark, creepy, full of dirt, in which I sat with absolutely no mirth. The door creaked open, and in he came, with a flame in his eyes, a flame not of love, but a flame that I

I hate, I hurt, I pain, and I ache so deeply. I feel rage, angst, like a piece of dirt, so much of the time, I’ve also tasted the tenderness of love, I’ve heard the howls of hate, I’ve slept

There comes a time when my frustration scales On seeing the heap of trash that smoothly trail Along with me, in my about to explode handbag, So much unwanted stuff, no time to clean, compelled to drag. So I start

It so happens. these days, I come to you with forgotten sails, with abandoned poems, with a heart worn away by the salt of this world. It so happens that I arrive at your door empty-handed. I have nothing to

World of danger … as I think.. Think of the deep bluish lake rich in water that seldom quenches the thirst of the masses who can never dream of drinking water to the brim of their mouths for the liquid

Can you see me? As I lie vulnerable on the rigid floor with you? Can you feel the fear that radiates from my trembling body? The piercing cries echoing in my mind are deafening, but my voice has lost it’s

Through the elements of fear in faith you become vulnerable to conversing legends. The reclining god was stolen from the temple for a weeping skull. Red clover will interrogate the blurred sky for domestic violence of dark themes. Ashes in

Listen before I start the story I can’t be more heavenly than the heavens Or more angled than an angel I know I am just as vulnerable Than a vegetable more beastly Then a savage who couldn’t manage the damage

All by myself, Surrounded only by my thoughts, In my home, With no modern gadgets of communication, No WhatsApp, No Facebook, No mobile, No ‘virtual’ friends, Away from all, In the real world, With my animals and plants, With my

Held so close, your materials protected like I might wreck some Vibrant hues, a rainbow on the light spectrum Increased saturation, a narrow aperture, and quick shutter Snapping photographs of smiling faces as I slide in a slick gutter Haunted

She started to shake inside. Felt sick with anger and distrust. Now that the culprit that broke her heart was back in town. The past memories where clouding his judgement. Neither do I care. As a far I am concerned

I was always overwhelmed at the thought of learning yoga….. Not that there is a possibility of me becoming a yogi, Or snub all mundane things I love, and brag! The sight of people in tights and and tops, the

you walk on wodden legs a lump in breast, though benign but kids are abducted from wombs; a road map is spread on the dirty mat for finding the missing link, while a solid-fuel missile was ready to be launched

As I see the reddish blue of this setting sun, I’m suddenly brought back to a memory, of me and Liv driving down the road.  Her talking and me listening and driving towards the setting sun. I remember the colors,

Sadness mostly breaks upon the horizon it slips into its coma unless you awaken it with a light you carry it like a dead weight a burden inside you. push it all you might but sadness comes again. Let me

-Good morning Captain! Hey you there… May you have a day full of life! -Am I late captain? Who cares! Look at the horizon. It seems to be dawn Or the dusk… -It’s hard to believe they look the same

Repentance of things past and presence, and anticipated misdoings shall be of utmost importance. I shall be more open and vulnerable, being more willing to “Be Wrong”. Evils that are both subtle and also blatant shall be exposed, fought against,

Step aside. The white flowing mane was going to become the adrenaline. Fear of silence was turning into a green wound. The dissenting life-blood has vandalized the moon. There was a provocation from the black stars. The leopard was ready

Hatred as drizzle, Chisels at human souls. Contrives a crevice to separate them, Deceives and ensnares its surroundings. Fear and heartache are its weapons, Vindictiveness the float it parades on. Discouragement its cathartic instruction, Defeating the strongest of men. Wears

I am watching flock of birds flying, gradually start disappearing. It makes me feel small and incapable. It’s not about the flying ability, it’s about the freedom. I tied with bondings, which makes me vulnerable. If change is the way

I’m sorry, but, ghosts are not scary. They live inside me. They live inside you. And without realizing, they consume us whole Of course, they are here to destroy But the destruction..? It’s so silent And silence, so to say,

Oh Lord, have Thy grace on me Cast me out of this darkness, that I see Be my illuminator and illuminate the way Help me reach my destination and save the day Provide me strength to find the way To

Forged while in utero (the crucible concocting conception), the fluke of biology begat me – a happy go lucky boy, whose vulnerable uber travails susceptibly sprung sly as Tennessee Williams hip cat on a hot tin roof, where the faux

Dear God! I’m out here again! I was in the home that you gave me to love, I guess I was not a tenant enough for my landlord, When I paid my rent lower than his consolidation price, And so

Demolishers descend upon me with chisel and crowbars strike me where I am vulnerable most they look at me with glee deciding which part of me is juiciest out come my doors and windows which lineup with SALE labelled on

Some people are capable of the most cowardly acts ever committed Of wounding a poor vulnerable homosexual’s body until he desperately cries his lungs out mortified Inflicting deep wounds of the flesh and then watching him slowly faint into unconsciousness

A lost soul on stolen time wonders like a landscape drifter For I am that which stands before you, a bottom feeder and shapeshifter Wizards watch wrath without wondering why Wither away like roses in winter whispering a thundering cry

Caged in the cobwebs of the past Surrounded by the tall stalagmites of blames Lying uneasy on betrayals amassed Is A vulnerable soul for whom love was no game. Splinters of Lies that hurt and bled Trust shattered, Malice brought