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POEMS AND PARADISE..

I AM A POET. CHECK OUT SOME OF MY WORKS HERE. Saturday, January 14, 2012. Do you really think that our songs. Can ever change this world. This world of lies and folded mysteries? Do you really think that those roses. Can ever free this world. Of the smell of dead skin and endless miseries? Do you really think that the blue sky. Can ever save this world. From the curse of homelessness and poverty? Do you really think that the winds. Can ever free this world. Of the stains of hunger which look so dirty?

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POEMS AND PARADISE.. | sourik-poems.blogspot.com Reviews

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I AM A POET. CHECK OUT SOME OF MY WORKS HERE. Saturday, January 14, 2012. Do you really think that our songs. Can ever change this world. This world of lies and folded mysteries? Do you really think that those roses. Can ever free this world. Of the smell of dead skin and endless miseries? Do you really think that the blue sky. Can ever save this world. From the curse of homelessness and poverty? Do you really think that the winds. Can ever free this world. Of the stains of hunger which look so dirty?

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POEMS AND PARADISE.. | sourik-poems.blogspot.com Reviews

https://sourik-poems.blogspot.com

I AM A POET. CHECK OUT SOME OF MY WORKS HERE. Saturday, January 14, 2012. Do you really think that our songs. Can ever change this world. This world of lies and folded mysteries? Do you really think that those roses. Can ever free this world. Of the smell of dead skin and endless miseries? Do you really think that the blue sky. Can ever save this world. From the curse of homelessness and poverty? Do you really think that the winds. Can ever free this world. Of the stains of hunger which look so dirty?

INTERNAL PAGES

sourik-poems.blogspot.com

1

POEMS AND PARADISE..: Dream Woman

http://sourik-poems.blogspot.com/2010/01/dream-woman.html

I AM A POET. CHECK OUT SOME OF MY WORKS HERE. Wednesday, January 13, 2010. A V of black swans. A poem or a song. The bride of the evening jazz. How do you feel. As we watch it together. To our secret calls of destiny? Much to the silent agony. Of the lemon earth. With the final color. And I stare at you. As the November breeze. Gives you an uneasy shiver. Are there still words stuck. Do you speak to me. I have lost my old style,. My old style of seduction. Of love in my mouth. Come and join me in Facebook.

2

POEMS AND PARADISE..: Travellers of Time - The Break-Up Song

http://sourik-poems.blogspot.com/2011/06/travellers-of-time-break-up-song.html

I AM A POET. CHECK OUT SOME OF MY WORKS HERE. Thursday, June 2, 2011. Travellers of Time - The Break-Up Song. When the city breathes beneath your palms. When the evening drops its coat. Revealing its dark clothes. And you dream in a painter’s cage. With a song in your mind. And you paint in a poet’s diary. With a brush and rewind. When your memories wander on glass. When you excrete pain in smoke. Walking down the streets alone. And you drink in a madman’s story. With salt water on your face.

3

POEMS AND PARADISE..: Mistress of The Sapphire Moon

http://sourik-poems.blogspot.com/2009/03/mistress-of-sapphire-moon.html

I AM A POET. CHECK OUT SOME OF MY WORKS HERE. Sunday, March 22, 2009. Mistress of The Sapphire Moon. Mistress of the sapphire moon. The sound of the distant drums. Speak in the silence of this evening. When the words sink in my soul. From the pages of this old diary. Hailing those paranoid thoughts. Stifling the unborn verses growing. In the womb of these poems. Tunes from the forgotten times. Argue in my mind. And recreates a theatre of songs and roses. The blue world bursts like an atom bomb. What I pa...

4

POEMS AND PARADISE..: Song 3

http://sourik-poems.blogspot.com/2012/01/song-3.html

I AM A POET. CHECK OUT SOME OF MY WORKS HERE. Saturday, January 14, 2012. Do you really think that our songs. Can ever change this world. This world of lies and folded mysteries? Do you really think that those roses. Can ever free this world. Of the smell of dead skin and endless miseries? Do you really think that the blue sky. Can ever save this world. From the curse of homelessness and poverty? Do you really think that the winds. Can ever free this world. Of the stains of hunger which look so dirty?

5

POEMS AND PARADISE..: Few Words Of Love...

http://sourik-poems.blogspot.com/2010/01/few-words-of-love.html

I AM A POET. CHECK OUT SOME OF MY WORKS HERE. Friday, January 22, 2010. Few Words Of Love. Revolutions in the liquid sky. Is that what it is called? Roses in the garden. A room of music and scent. Why does the harmonica always. Remind me of you? Songs in the hourglass. Poems in the weed. Kiss still rots upon your skin. And the last line. Snowstorm in your eyes. And my dreams behind them. Dreams in the night. And the night sleeps. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Come and join me in Facebook.

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colorspot-bluenotes.blogspot.com

Beat me louder, let the music ooze: June 2009

http://colorspot-bluenotes.blogspot.com/2009_06_01_archive.html

Beat me louder, let the music ooze. You will not find poetry anywhere unless you bring some of it with you. Saturday, June 20, 2009. Now the paint drips, like nectar over tongue. He squats to sexualize the mad soil. They surround like ears go fishing for music. Throwing up the smoke as he does always. He pees his pain like sore memories. And they laugh and shy. At fluids that keep life going. Uphill, beating impotency and religion of politics. So the farmer squats. Wednesday, June 17, 2009. Saturday, Jun...

colorspot-bluenotes.blogspot.com

Beat me louder, let the music ooze: November 2009

http://colorspot-bluenotes.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html

Beat me louder, let the music ooze. You will not find poetry anywhere unless you bring some of it with you. Sunday, November 29, 2009. All are eternally infatuated . Even fingers do it tenderly on a key-board. This is in my twenties. I pee on plurality. It is all about you and me. Under the roof of sunset. I loose the tap to break down. On my tired feet twitching over spam. I dab against the virgin twilight. And strike past the liquid mirror…. My words are well with. Sharp and strong on tender meat.

colorspot-bluenotes.blogspot.com

Beat me louder, let the music ooze: For the transparent you.

http://colorspot-bluenotes.blogspot.com/2011/01/for-transparent-you.html

Beat me louder, let the music ooze. You will not find poetry anywhere unless you bring some of it with you. Monday, January 3, 2011. For the transparent you. If I try to view that you mouth is half full. I'll have to count. The hours of ecstasy that came through you. To what you can be. In the lizards night. Not often have i seen you. Writing essays on yourself. With every wrinkle of your body. Your curling lips, and diminishing eyes. Trying to make fire. Of what u been fishing! And all that was limpid-.

colorspot-bluenotes.blogspot.com

Beat me louder, let the music ooze: My Collections!

http://colorspot-bluenotes.blogspot.com/2012/02/my-collections.html

Beat me louder, let the music ooze. You will not find poetry anywhere unless you bring some of it with you. Friday, February 24, 2012. How curious is the moon. Of a taciturn pool! Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). This poem might not have any intellectual depth. but its an urn of some old memories. Composed at Someplace Else). Composed in a greasy afternoon. Courtesy: http:/ wildresiliencyblog.files.wordpress.com/2007/09/dead-horse-juniper.jpg. Line in bold quoted from Sylvia PlathDaddy. Roy – &#...

colorspot-bluenotes.blogspot.com

Beat me louder, let the music ooze: for the one who has loved me!!!!

http://colorspot-bluenotes.blogspot.com/2012/02/for-one-who-has-loved-me.html

Beat me louder, let the music ooze. You will not find poetry anywhere unless you bring some of it with you. Saturday, February 11, 2012. For the one who has loved me! February 19, 2012 at 8:10 PM. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). This poem might not have any intellectual depth. but its an urn of some old memories. Composed at Someplace Else). Composed in a greasy afternoon. Courtesy: http:/ wildresiliencyblog.files.wordpress.com/2007/09/dead-horse-juniper.jpg. Line in bold quoted from Sylvia PlathDaddy.

colorspot-bluenotes.blogspot.com

Beat me louder, let the music ooze: May 2009

http://colorspot-bluenotes.blogspot.com/2009_05_01_archive.html

Beat me louder, let the music ooze. You will not find poetry anywhere unless you bring some of it with you. Monday, May 25, 2009. Of imperial coffin pattern. With white slabs of wool. Below the brown cap of. Sunday, May 24, 2009. A mark of white wound. Shutting down the sun. By that tongue of music. Of those dens you beat. Sunday, May 17, 2009. I walk from your limbs. To those fat lips. Till water is high. Like a dead submarine…. I have dug your. Bits of jewels and. Enlightening my castle…. Pigmented hop...

colorspot-bluenotes.blogspot.com

Beat me louder, let the music ooze: April 2010

http://colorspot-bluenotes.blogspot.com/2010_04_01_archive.html

Beat me louder, let the music ooze. You will not find poetry anywhere unless you bring some of it with you. Saturday, April 10, 2010. This summer afternoon,. A rally marched up my curve. I stretched out my self to. Wind you up my waist. Besides corals, gems and seas-hells…. There was a song. And your voice like ink filling my nerves…. At this circle where. Planets do not function. And stars raise their. Roots upto the sands. I want you rowing down. In a canoe, past wolves. Into a lake that’ll take. So th...

colorspot-bluenotes.blogspot.com

Beat me louder, let the music ooze: u May!

http://colorspot-bluenotes.blogspot.com/2010/12/u-may.html

Beat me louder, let the music ooze. You will not find poetry anywhere unless you bring some of it with you. Sunday, December 26, 2010. If you wish to fly anything besides a kite. Fly not yourself –for it may inflame the skies. Kites are quite, so do electric birds- they have exhaust vents. But if you do, you may burn the blues of evening. And the light of morning- would be. A gust of smog- and no peaches and the plum be seen. It’ll dawn on me for I compared. A living conflict to the innocent machines.

colorspot-bluenotes.blogspot.com

Beat me louder, let the music ooze

http://colorspot-bluenotes.blogspot.com/2010/04/once-in-dizzy-afternoon-bus-i-caught.html

Beat me louder, let the music ooze. You will not find poetry anywhere unless you bring some of it with you. Thursday, April 8, 2010. In a dizzy afternoon bus. I caught the brown boy. And now ii drink him often- his pollens. Stirred in my white tea…. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). This poem might not have any intellectual depth. but its an urn of some old memories. Composed at Someplace Else). Composed in a greasy afternoon. Line in bold quoted from Sylvia PlathDaddy. 8211; “ Memories. 8221; - Rhymin...

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POEMS AND PARADISE..

I AM A POET. CHECK OUT SOME OF MY WORKS HERE. Saturday, January 14, 2012. Do you really think that our songs. Can ever change this world. This world of lies and folded mysteries? Do you really think that those roses. Can ever free this world. Of the smell of dead skin and endless miseries? Do you really think that the blue sky. Can ever save this world. From the curse of homelessness and poverty? Do you really think that the winds. Can ever free this world. Of the stains of hunger which look so dirty?

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