Perhaps he saw Radha in her Peacock Form

Art by: https://www.facebook.com/Tharika
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Slashed earth, perfection
Into the finite
O’ my martyr! O’ my half-hour
Breeze and music of beauty
Black hair of resting on itself
Boddiswattva’s diamond body

In a woman, it’s been
So long since I could speak
Of extravagance
Though in the village of color
I am a mere stone figure

A lion sprawled prophet
In the cemetery of chaos
And society’s starving hide
Like the slums, of New Orleans
Slashed earth, hope for the future

Drum beats and jazz
Ceromonies in what time?
How many decades
Does humanity have left?
This ache in my soul, a disembodied
Entity, just giving each letter a gem

Just giving her memory a name
To pass on, in vivid swirls
Like the painting you hid
As Music
Like the wind embracing the water

Something invisible to the naked eye
I’ve sat and waited for inspiration
It gives me Chills!
To feel a bit of glitter
At the end of long day
These lonely streets have been begging
For shadows that did not feel
Like I was a naked animal

Like That Which Separates the Siren and the Song

Art by: https://www.facebook.com/Tharika
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We were like sea people
Last time my eyes
Discovered you, we spoke
In hushed tones and psychologically
Naked, we found a unity point

My inner eyes discovered
Your inner beauty, and that was key!
And I covered you
With a warm rain
Of glances, wet to the touch

Of your heart, like fluid belonging
And we lifted morning, like
A treasured limb, of our new
Discovery, that of each other
And it was pure, and it was beautiful

And all that I could contain
Was the hope that this would last!
I sifted light, searching for your laugh
Your voice, that trembling soul
Of what we had become together

It was more meaningful to me
Then, most everything
You were as a mermaid to me
Planted, in just the right foliage to me
And your wounds complemented mine

And your psychological touch
Was like a spoon of medicine and water
To my barren life, how I missed you!
Before we even met,
Your shriek of warm glances

Tharika the feather dancer
Thairka the floating artist
The branded mantras of what
Art had become to us…
The poetry to connect
To something distant and universal.

Youth till now

Art by Agnes Cecile..

In the scattered vibrations
Of youth
I lifted each hour whiter
I slept with each month greener!
And I felt invulnerable

I feared death then as if
Cessation of being was a bad thing
Desire pushed me
Into new encounters
With the inevitable side of life

The empowering and affirming
The unfurling in the wind
And expansions into scenes
With silken banners, drunk liaisons
And knots, as the side of my bed

Inside my head, freshness of wounds
Errors in waiting, studious looks
Chaos in the overwhelming discovery
And the self-discovery of innovation
As if self had to be created over

Sky rising to the lips of fate
In a wayward temptation
Yes well that was then
And this is now, indifferent bliss
Sprouts in me now, like incense

And peace, preferring not the face
Of whirlwinds or zipper-trance.