Salt Lamp

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“You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.”

“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house.”


Bosom of the dark deep earth

Belly of the hearth

Lies the rock that melts

and survives a million pelts


Unearthing  burns and bruises

Grazes the translucent peach purity

Darkens  the corners and greases

Of size and shape no surity


Coal and embers, diamonds or pearls

Or giant rubies from the sword of the Earl

Tiny salt rocks or petite round marbles

Paper rocks or dried wrinkly flowers


Fill the cradle with odds and tods

The stony lap remains unscathed

The gentle glow; eternal

Base in rapturous light; bathed


Salt: cleanses and reforms

Lamp: illuminates and heals

Ornaments are ephemeral

Yet sturdy the keel


Salt and Light: Core

Ordained for a pinnacle

Falls and fowls, abysmal pits inevitable

Yet a rising will come about

Each time, after every fall

The Salt is not to lose its saltiness

The lamp shall burn




Paints the lid red


Tendons on her agile limbs

A ten-legged cart wheel in the sky

Tips of her toes oozing blood

She paints the lid red


A whirl towards the sky above

A swish of white robes in swirls

With arms wide open

She paints the lid red


The comets crash

The shootings stars

Constellations collapse, as

She paints the lid red


She peeks through a crevice

The din of dusty existence

Before her wait and lie, so

She paints the lid red


The shower of un-reality

Is on the shore awash

She lays there still, as

She paints the lid red


*based on a lucid dream session


Tap Tap, Tap Tap

Drumming on the table

Tick Tack, Tick Tack

Humming on the keys

Drip Drip, drip drip

Tripping on the sidewalk

Raindrops, teardrops

Tripping away at ease


Hush hush, Sigh Sigh

Drawing from within

A weary smile, a baited breath

Gnawing clutches akin;

To the wafts in icy winters

The abysmal depths of hades

Shivers thousand years’ deep

Welcome now the sears of sin

There there, thou soothsayer

Thy crony warnings lie bare;

Thy false silver linings, thy faulty stars

Lest you sell some other ware

The fortune tellers, the treasure counters

No one could predict

The tremors of an unbroken heart

Of infernal fires, unlit

Thundering are the crepuscular clouds

Roaring are the raging waves

The yet untainted vessel under the shroud

Quivers inwardly, outwardly raves

The wind laden with zesty life

A vial brimming with potent elixir

Longing, reaching out; rife!

Stroke, Ladle out, spew, stir!

The rocky mantle, the melting core,

The vegetational crust on the surface

The tremors hinting an impending seism

The quivers; a besotted disgrace

Each new day begins afresh

Yet Samuel thy restless ‘seething turmoil’

Bursts forth by mid-day; by end of day

Vanquishes the veneer of calm and coil

Shreds the shroud from head to toe

Spews forth the elixir, potent and prime

Conjures the fantastic on the canvas

Of dreams, vivid, surreal and sublime

Then Toil Toil, thou weary mortal

Sow the seeds of endless pain

Let crack the perfect vessel now

In loss, shall thou now find thy gain

The Dormant Poet to the Silly hermit

Oh thou hermit,

You want too much,

A cost you shall pay for it,

You must come out and play


The beast has to be tamed,

The throbbing heart must be maimed,

For being broken is required,

Your bliss poor hermit is not desired


Them they crayon smiles on the plastered faces

But your hearty laughter is a prick

Shadow thy face with grime,

For pure sparkly eyes; a crime

The mask of Ordinary and Uninteresting


As I walk the streets of horrid misery

Of dark wallowing shrouded by stifling smiles

The sirens scream an excruciating song in the streets

The streets of murderous thoughts

I want to scream with them

Throw off this façade of sanity


I pant with breathlessness

A racing beat thuds raucously within

The surface of painted water

Droplets don’t ripple across

They drown down to the abyss


The abyss where my torturers dance

Dance over the body of my murdered damsel

A body of passion, music, poetry, love; of insanity

Now strewn with heartless rips across the heart


Oh why you stood so tall and proud?

Why so strong and sane?

Did you not know the gruesome Cold runs free?

Rampaging over cheerful souls; draining merry drops of red

Did you not know it cannot see?

A tranquil Oak in peaceful glee

Did you forget, the dancing damsels are an eye sore?

To these gluttonous hoarders of joy


Why my beautiful did you stand so secure?

So girded in joy, so sound and so sure

Why did you not pretend some more?

Pretend to be as insane as they want you to be

But not as insane as you honestly feel

Why did you put on the mask of sanity?

Why hide behind the mask of ordinary?


You think you blocked out querulous peeks?

You think you were screening out trouble?

But look what you got yourself into

No one comes to your banquet hall

Your mask became so real it fooled

The dear ones and even the dearest of all


And yet you chose to tower strong

To hide the blotches of stinging drops

And so they sneered at your standing proud

And then came upon you in a crowd


And now you lie here lifeless and strewn

The dim light of life so lazily moving within


They see you are dead and are happy to see

But I know you stubbornness will quell all their glee


What shall you get out of this mask of ordinary?

But only uncaring souls painting your living grave



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