Tequila stamp of glory.

A few days ago I drank tequila,
More than you'd ever think
Each time I saw a shot
I would simply grab it and drink.
The shots came faster
the night got thrilling
Until I hit the floor.
How many shots I did
I really wasn't sure.
I spoke English in my head
Spanish was heard by others
I leaned against an imaginary pillar
Oh brother!!
I tipped back straight
Fell on the floor
And shocked a few around
I chattered through the ride back home
Oh I uttered all the sounds
The next morning I awoke at ten
Happy as a clam
I thought of the previous night's story
The applause, I remembered roaring
And then I noticed on my head
A painful tequila stamp of glory!
                                       - Shivangi Vyasulu (c)

Tracing an image of Reality

Floating just over the glistening ocean

Beyond the crashing waves and between the sunset

Aiming for the horizon that never comes

I begin to breathe in inspiration.

Turbines of thought churn the words into life

Sealing them together in context

Seasoning them with a little wistful smile.

I’m encumbered by the need to assemble my thoughts

Bringing reality to life

Reality likes being obscure, unattainable and inexpressible.

I surge forward determined

Slicing through the chill waters

Warming up to the reality

Chopping the distance in half

Melting into the currents

The horizon tip toes further away

But I touch it briefly before it does

I have won it. It is mine.

Droning Intent

Remnants of a conversation

Ill at ease, VS eager to please...

The surrounding area charged with chemistry

Dearth of it here.

Innuendos and paraphrasing

Coy games and hints

Obscure demands

Incompatible at the seams

I walk through it all

Craving space and silence

Their thoughts too loud

Their libido too ferocious.

Your space is crammed

My comfort zone compromized

They're invading my perception

Nobody else knows

Or feels the claustrophobia

The notion that we are

My intuition constricted

By the narrow minded spiel.

Whirlpooling around the matter.

As noise levels rise
She pirouettes and fumbles.
Amidst confusion and chaos
She mumbles incoherence.
When the going gets tough
She resorts to mimic
Coupled with boredom
She adds a little tune.
Humming the song
She hopes we all know
The hint of an idea
She lilts across the floor
In vain she grins
Her intention hesitant
Unsure of the repercussions
She pirouettes home once more.
         --Shivangi Vyasulu

The day I couldn't finish what I didn't start.

I was saying..
But nobody heard...
When it all began to...
Where did it go?
Calmness used to be natural to me.
Now evaporating through my grimace.
The slide has begun towards...
Undulating on rugged slopes covered in ice
Lacking...
Slick...
Pivoting out of control...
Divided...
The tip of the iceberg peeps through to my consciousness
A growl trips me up.
A shiver ran down my back a few hours ago
Its a full blown blizzard now.
Diversion is of the essence.
But as I said...
You don't mean...
But why would that change...
I'm now opaque with dissonance. 
--Shivangi Vyasulu.

Muffled mindgames.

The rain goes on.
Blurring the view
Blotting the sunshine
A sharp beam of light
as I scribble my name on a piece of paper
Riveted to the moment
Trying to save it for posterity.
The high had to be shattered.
The focus has shifted.
Time has no say in the matter.
A one track mind.
The sharp beam of light is now smudged
the nearby floor slippery
A slimy coat of rain water in a pool
Reflecting the murky skies
I blink once
I blink a few more times.
Its not my imagination
I cant open my eyes and look at it anymore.
A rippling effect of warped reality
stumped by the sudden clarity of it all.
My path diverges.
The diversion is welcome.

Disconnected plural

Once a plural memory
Now disconnected by fragments
Interrupted by daily life,
A sudden load of reality thrust upon me.
A revelation demands thrill
all I can muster is a half baked smile.
I know the consequences that loom ahead.
Fragmented past laid on shaky foundation.
Loneliness a factor deep down.
Its evident and was bound to happen.
Must be the center of attention.
My pain unfound.
hidden to accommodate the thrill I don't feel.
Its almost irrelevant now.
Vacuum building every new event.
I don't belong,
I don't want to adhere to those damn norms.
But I know the consequences.
I feel them now.
Its only going to get worse.
I've got a few months more to regain my perspective
Fight or flight not the only option. But that's what I'd choose from. 
landslide of thoughts pummel my brain.
The delicate shield of reality split right down the middle.
Time to give up the fight and just go with the flow.
Potential for loss high
no way to hedge the bet of impending doom.
I surrender, i subliminally resign.
I let life flow through my thoughts
Let it unfold the inevitable.
day by day
Until the end of the decade and the future I fear.
- Shivangi Vyasulu

Caf-feigning awake thoughts.

Swimming through murky waters,

Coming up for air and a better perspective.

Lack of sufficient resources

Liquid inspiration

I long for the moment

Hitting my brain and reverberating

Assailing my senses both olfactory and creative

I surface once more to find daylight

Diving into crystal waters suddenly

The coral so perfectly formed.

Waiting for the prescribed half hour to avoid cramps

Pondering my path of discovery

Revelation on the horizon.

Shimmering movement of thought

Plunging into the depths of young minds

The magnetic thrill of the new.

Alluring simplicity

Egged on by fantasy

Dissipated by logic

Choosing my words

Frail wings of learning

I surface with a smile

Coffee on my breath.  

--Shivangi Vyasulu

Mind Games...

When sleep evades and thoughts prevail
the night elongates the tiredness you dread
Treading silently through the house
I hear
Snoring dog, dad and akin
The fridge creaks when I open it
The thirst just isn't quenched
The water gurgles down
My clothes all drenched
Eyes feel tired
Threatening to close
But my mind has another idea
Sleep does it dispose.
My alarm reminds me
Of my upcoming day
Excited or enthusiastic be I as I may
Sing me to sleep
Oh please do I ask
Its only a little thing
But a little task.
Deny me not my sleep
My brain I beseech
I trick my mind as if on the beach

                           --Shivangi Vyasulu

Guest Post by Scather, from Scathing Weekly.

This image was imported from Karnak Com. Exterior who supply coffee directly from Sao Paulo, Brazil.

An Ode to Coffee

What I like about Coffee:
The sound of the lid being unscrewed
The burst of warm smell when you open the jar
The texture of the golden-brown granules against my spoon
The artful way it melts into the hot water and milk
The steam
The fact that I got a 200g jar of Brazillian gold for $6.
Bliss.
--Scather, Scathing Weekly.

***It has also occurred to me that there is nowhere near enough appreciation of non-alcoholic drinks.
Wine has long been a fussy affair, what with guide books and even tasting classes (what next? a feeling
class of woolen garments? a smelling class of gardening manure? a hearing class of tram bells???) Coffee
too has its "connoisseurs" (and of course, fine cuisine, its gourmets)
I do not *yet* know of anyone (individual or institution) who practices the fine art of, say "lime cordial
appreciation" or "Milo tasting"... surely there must be some market for the wider appreciation of non-
alcoholic hot and cold beverages?!
(I myself have always wanted a Coca-Cola cellar... also stocked with cheese).