Grid View
List View
Reposts
  • laus_deo 1d

    Strawberry milkshakes scooped in rose wines,
    Dawning dilemmas crossing the threshold
    of morality,
    When the the stakes were too high and
    alternatives two scarce,
    All when you were for laughing on
    kind of lame but kind of funny jokes.

    The wisdom of the sages and the majesty
    of the Dravadian temples are revered like
    the way my medieval bones stay skeptical
    about a thousand babybud events.
    Failure of conundrum on the foreign shores
    has chained welcoming gates
    and wearied flights elsewhere.

    Breathlessness of the light is attuned
    to my anxiety,
    Under the ceiling, on the bed every day
    when I have something to overthink and glare.
    The cackling of fire- smitten sky threatens my entrenched music- flooded ears.
    I discard my earphones and witness
    the benevolent chaos dangling from the clouds,
    a calming rage, an ecstatic highway.
    Night dampening into a dark tunnel,
    One of two many days when the night feels different.
    ©laus_deo


    I am facing poetic bankruptcy ����

    Read More

    ALLOYED

  • laus_deo 2w

    Thank you @writersnetwork ����

    Read More

    CLOVES AND CAULIFLOWER

    Cauliflower is a handsome folk
    with the tendency to colonize
    my focus of attention among
    the several other vegetables-
    tomatoes, brinjals and capsicum.
    Although the cooked bullets
    of the hefty open-armed
    greenleaves, guarding the
    souvenirs of abandoned hills
    doesn't entices my tastebuds,
    I am well aware about their
    licensed inclusion in the company
    of beneficial vegetables.

    My father prefers to take four
    pieces of bronzelit cloves
    before heading for the busy
    daylight injected schedule.
    I often misplace it's petite container
    to inadvertently book myself
    a memory retention sermon.

    They won't throw their slavishly
    plagiarism-strewn hollow manuscripts
    in the trash but I am ready to
    discard all the misunderstandings
    if you approach me directly before
    the passing of a rancour half-century.

    Torrential stacked newspapers
    yawning in a lonely corner,
    under the dinosauric sky smoking
    staples of fall, I am chomping
    semi churned spiced potato
    chips with carbonated drink,
    wondering how does the first
    arctic sunrise feels like.

    Do you know?

    ©laus_deo

  • laus_deo 5w

    This feeling of uncertainty rolling over my sleeves is like snooping grasshoppers and ancestral anthills, with a monstrous tail and an angel's face that momentarily jettisons me into a wobbling conundrum of despotic fireball with reverberating chats of "go with the flow, go with flow" whenever I seek answers to it's ambiguity. But at times the joy of chomping on concealed pathways excites my senses. Someone said that the universe will hold my hand when I will stumble my footsteps and together we will cross oceans and valleys. Do you believe in the magic of the cosmos? Well, I do because it is simply beautiful.

    The cackling of fresh stressors on my door intimidates the old ones who act like coffee-nosed attention seekers. This perpetual trap sometime makes me wonder if I am a prey to these hunters.
    With the wall paints, our monotous daily schedules running briskly alongwith time also gets eroded.Eating cornetto in periods of intrinsic tornados is an example of reminding yourself that
    in the end, the taste of relief will dissolve on the tip of your tongue if you keep moving ahead without any halt as puffed solutions will greet your somewhere in the way.

    What are the camouflaged verses and thundering phrases lavishing the literature textbooks if not are interpretations of someone else.Can we precisely investigate the real intentions of the author's mind? What if the author denies to answer and leave it open ended for readers like you to preserve the essence of writing.Will the time traveling go in vain or will you fix the machine to the flourishing sites of the Harappan civilization to trace it's mysterious ending?

    For me, writing is a prosperous cigarette, a sweet addiction, an inexpensive yet affordable therapy. Writing and me is like crumbled sugar and Little Hearts, pizza and jalepino, cardamom and rusk.
    The clubbed alphabets placed before and after "and" compliments each other the way writing complicates me. Winter is arriving in chariots and a battle will be fought in the land of early chilled mornings between your gaze and the fog. I know you are too busy in praising the season of fall.

    ©laus_deo

    Read More

    .

  • laus_deo 7w

    Light leaks from the leaves of the
    sugar apple trees after feasting on
    fresh fruits and touches the morning
    petrichor sungazing on the ground.
    The holiday lights snore unapologetically
    as the hustle and bustle of the busy
    city is added as a preservative in the
    jar of January juice being served on
    the first Sunday of the calendar year.

    Twenty minutes have already passed
    in the hunting of the novel I left unread
    on Pg 243 last night. I am wandering
    helplessly in the woodland of my house
    with arrows shooting from my eyes,
    hitting on the kladeoscopic titles
    resting on the bookshelf and weapons
    oozing out of my hands, digging the
    scattered clothes and littered table.
    Giggles slice the silence in the air
    and crash on my ears. I peep out of
    the window in the garden to trace
    the source of its origin.

    Winter wearing blue sunglasses is
    sunbathing while resting comfortably
    on the chaise longue. Laughing hysterically
    with joy, holding a hot mug of coffee
    in one hand while other clutched on
    the novel which was the treasure of
    my hunt. I cannot calm the fury
    down while screaming its name.

    ©laus_deo


    #patheticfallacy #wod


    @writersnetwork Accept my gratitude ♡

    Read More

    .

  • laus_deo 8w

    The falcon skies and withering daylight
    bolstered the undaunted anxiety clasping
    in between my fingertips, the one that is
    not a conflagration intended to confine
    the light flickering at the end of my mind
    but the one that comes like a desert storm
    at the tickling hours before they strike the
    commencement of a significant event.

    I am adding five drops of lemon and
    two tablespoons of sugar in my tea
    when the yelling sound of my mom
    commands my attention and I rush to
    the lawn to witness a cold scolding
    for missing her call twice. I blame my
    absence to the earsplittling volumes
    of WWE Smackdown that beguiles
    the senses of my younger brother
    sufficiently to brush aside all the
    happenings of the real world
    surrounding him, he frowns at once
    and screams in ruffling excitement
    while staying glued to the television.

    The indignation of the alarm clock
    seems justified to me because on
    significant dates, unsolicited elephant
    processions march past my eyelids
    before the usual hum of wake up call
    gets distilled in the air and I curse
    myself again for succumbing to a
    malnutritioned sleep.
    ©laus_deo

    Read More

    EN ROUTE

  • laus_deo 9w

    sweet cacophonies,
    pumping hearts
    and trojan clouds
    swindles out of
    confiscation at the
    glimpse of auburn
    sky infused with
    nerve tonic by a
    syringe that floats
    on the archipelago
    of sun-feasting horizon.

    like the adorned anklets
    of a classical dancer
    with musical bells,
    my poems are embellished
    with nature's charm
    as my perpetual muse.

    when my feeble trials
    to club metaphors and
    alliterations go in vain,
    the words themselves
    create a vaulted valley
    for me to chase under
    the evergreen trees and
    bougainvillea vines.

    flowers are the clementine
    sips of chamomile tea
    brewed in the nature's
    cafeteria that rejuvenates
    the downtrodden curves
    of comforting peace.

    the nature's lap doesn't
    discriminates rather
    offers guidance,
    protection, acceptance,
    encouragement and
    healing with a soft touch
    of magical therapy
    wrapped in silence.
    ©laus_deo

    Read More

    SOLACE

  • laus_deo 9w

    the coffee flushed pages
    of my journal reeks the
    relics of a medieval castle,
    the cramming words scribbled
    in a downpouring hush looks
    like a bombarded battlefield
    wincing at the blood-breathing war,
    a hefty snowstorm flicks out
    of the ocean liquidated pen
    when I hold its neck untying
    the monstrous story buried
    down inside my chest,
    thumping indecisively at
    the autumn dripping sun.
    they think they can understand
    but they fail every time to
    sneak cautiously at it's
    calloused edges from the
    corners of my lying eyes.

    a superstitious notion
    is as dangerous as a
    triggered phobia.

    a gratitude refilled heart
    is as lively as a
    newly bloomed hibiscus.

    a comforting positive self- talk
    is as surprising as an
    uninvited robbery.

    to thrive empathy and to unleash
    the magic taming in your heart,
    include your name while addressing
    yourself, catch the fireflies
    exclusively meant for you.

    what fires together wires together-
    don't let your negative way of thinking
    become an autonomous vehicle of your mind.

    ©laus_deo


    #cottonseeds_and_selflove

    Read More

    DYING RUMINATION

    "Stop acting so small. You are the universe in ecstatic motion."

    -Rumi

  • laus_deo 10w

    SWEET SLICES OF MOON FESTOONED
    WITH DATE-PALM LEAVES

    a dreaded dictator,
    a grazing goat,
    a trotting tourist guide,
    an abandoned poet,
    a lopsided maniac,
    a withstanding criminal case,
    a rain of glittering confetti.

    Does the shivering sky split open it's cracks
    to reveal its rain-soaked eyes?
    How am I supposed to recognize it's fraternal twin
    living miles apart, perhaps?

    Somewhere in the woods, a ferocious brawl
    simmers the winter eaten air.

    Somewhere in the closet, the hidden vintage
    skeletons guards your crumbling fortress.

    Somewhere in the town, a peppy-eyed child
    shuffles the coins lying in ironed pockets.

    Somewhere in the dead of the night, wearied fingers fumble for keychain tucked in old leather bag.

    On assembling our priorities
    and prioritizing our happiness,
    what remains behind are broken
    palanquins of sickening tendencies.

    Do you compromise on relationships that
    tolls your sanity on the pretendence of
    blood is thicker than water?
    Well, I don't.

    If you don't like me, that's fine because my lungs
    aren't stifling to buy your validation and
    hollow appreciation.
    ©laus_deo


    #cottonseeds_and_selflove

    Read More

    .

  • laus_deo 10w

    Stormy clouds, calm down!
    with mercy hymns, farmers frown,
    gentle raindrops bounce.
    ©laus_deo

  • laus_deo 11w

    I am not really a collab person xd so this is my first attempt which somehow turned successful because I was supposed to lead the poem. All thanks to @anirockz7 for this collab.

    _______________________________

    The syllables of goodbye
    share a contagious relationship
    with nostalgia,
    the tip of tongue burns,
    the ache of heart returns,
    memories of the past savagely
    stifle the passing hours,
    I wonder whether our
    amorphous tale was
    crafted in cloud swept
    heavens or fiery hells.

    ©laus_deo

    So after long realization
    I realized that it was
    neither hell nor heaven
    but beyond infinity
    cause when I whispered
    goodbye I uttered in our
    love language so gods
    or demons can't take you
    away from me and I shall
    send you to 7th dimension
    where you'll be free from
    favours of karma and
    ultimately achieve salvation.

    ©anirockz7



    @writersnetwork Thank you. I am happy (ಥ﹏ಥ)

    Read More

    .