rudhira

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Paint by rudhira, literature

InkVomit by rudhira, literature

Cocquette by rudhira, literature

My City of Gold by rudhira, literature

Literature

My City of Gold

My city of gold, called El Norte 530, has beggars on every commercial corner collecting change for their beer, and small gold and purple plums falling ripe in litter-filled fields. Factory smells of olives and rotting peach, women so beaten down by time and men that the lines on their faces are roadmaps with false directions. A clean and sober living on every corner of neighborhoods so badly known for drugs the addict views his dealer across the street from his so-called help and protection. The cops are dirty and rascist, CPS takes kids the way we take out the trash, often and with little care. My city of gold, called El Nort

On This Day by rudhira, literature

Literature

On This Day

Winged beast come across the empty blue wasteland of a cloudless sky. We stand sunken in grassy slope surrounded by our woodland brethren whose roots crawl deep; they are Mother's towering sentinels weeping multi-colored leaves. The autumnal sun, Father's glaring eye, stares down upon us eliciting droplets of sweat between leather and skin. Calloused hands beat furiously, as furiously as our hearts, pounding out deep, resonant beats. Interrupted, then, with a great sweep of wind brought forth by the jewel-colored expanses of wing. Our battle cry erupts ripped deep from our throat. Although we are many this day we are o

Implosion by rudhira, literature

Literature

Implosion

Bile brewed, bubbled, began to boil inside. As foul as the glowing green puss of an infected wound, or the vomit that leaps upto throat--so noxious and odorous that it seeped through organs to play havoc on the bloodstream, turning it to muddy water. Inflicting pressure inside, pressure so dense as to start the countdown--ten, nine, eight IMPLOSION. Contained only by force of will or is it contained by stricture from a violent, yet hypocritical all American society; forced deep into your subconscious by constant repetitive programming or is it a personality flaw, this meekness, this awareness that it is not socially acceptabl

Thorns of a Wicked Rose by rudhira, literature

Literature

Thorns of a Wicked Rose

Wicked Rose, deny me not the sweet stench emanating amidst ruinous skin. Permit my touch, feast in the fevered whim. Acolyte to the vices; heart banished, penned. Shall I lift you above, set you aloft? Create a pedestal to stand worship, enameled in colors that are brilliant, where you might view me from a prideful spot? Pierce and embalm starved flesh; petals pressed to reveal passionfruit juices disguised as oil of roses. Bitter thorns do hide, yes, but of sated senses I have dreamt. Cold, soul-hungry wretch, why do you deny? What must submit, be forfeit, called to loss? Are you such that requires more than gold cost? Perhaps

Tillabook Island by rudhira, literature

Literature

Tillabook Island

There was a young woman from Tillabook Island whiling away the days by the bitter cold shore. Every night she walked the same rocky path down to the abandoned south beach with its trash-littered sand. She sat on the same rock on which she recieved her first kiss from a sandy- haired boy with saltwater lips. She called out a hello to every blue crab that scuttled by, the same kind she had caught as a child. She stayed until the sun came up and washed away the gray skies with streaks of pink, orange, and pale blue. In the sherbert-colored morning she could see the high-rises to the east and the west emptiness. She consi

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Paint by rudhira, literature

InkVomit by rudhira, literature

Cocquette by rudhira, literature

My City of Gold by rudhira, literature

Literature

My City of Gold

of white silk by rudhira, literature

Literature

of white silk

as long as; whispers flow freely- hearts melting into a puddle of liquid nitrate where an explosion is imminent and things are never quite what they seem. you can swim, across channels- and bleed in secret hiding the pain behind multi-colored sleeves forgetful and rolled.. a shocked look and a hushed murmur. "move right along, miss smith." forget what you saw here. you wouldnt look past the thick black liner and the hints at individuality its liquid nitrate one match, lit and thrown creates an orgasmic system of turns remember how i was? when i was young? the same as i am now. Didnt i express myself? Werent my

The Lords And Ladies At Play by rudhira, literature

Literature

The Lords And Ladies At Play

butterfly fingers tugging ever so gently upon leading strings, and my heart- began to ache, beneath the corset laced tightly around and against my ribcage, pulsing with interest at every passerby who cut there glances just so; along my apparent charms and ogled, openly what i displayed beneath layers and layers of.. fake propriety. heated eyes lined with kohl ashen sin against prim white- and tonight, they sneak with slippered toes into a rendezvous of uninhibitated dancing, its a mirror like reflection, exposing the tatters of society's reputation.

Rotten Kisses by rudhira, literature

Literature

Rotten Kisses

molded plastic creation is a parallel line arthritic creek a simple sound, a reflecting symphony of a word rolling along the tongue, rhyme pestering, as the tight bondage wraps 'round. circulation, strangulation, the blood wells up easily.. flowers spill from underneath caressing the freshly cut.. lawn of flesh. violets bruised, a pretty hued pain. fascination begets a simple turn of the head, eyes slanted downward with apparent interest to regard the sudden rip of flesh serenity was a fine row of stitches, just short of seam straight. constant plucking for perpetual music, a symphony of stained me buried natural, perhaps to

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Rock Heart by AzizrianDaoXrak, literature

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Cottage On The Atlantic by rudhira, literature

Literature

Cottage On The Atlantic

I could see the breeze swaying, teasing the silver pipes of a wind chime while I sat, unmoving, in my grandmother's favorite rocking chair on the white-washed planks of our porch. The liquid notes soothed me as nothing in the city had. They bathed me in celestial tranquility. Then, as fickle as a woman, they burned me with intensity as the wind shifted made voracious by the breath of Poseidon. I could smell the salt of the Atlantic, taste the crabs scurrying along the sand, feel the temperature drop in concordance with the slow ascension of the moon. I began to rock with the steady tide and the beat was as familiar to me as

Cottage On The Atlantic

rudhira

About rudhira

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United States
Deviant for 20 years
She / Her

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THE WALKING DEAD!

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Acid Bath, A perfect circle, Seether, In this moment, Otep

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Labyrinthe by Kate Mosse

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If I could read every author, everywhere, I would be in heaven!

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Mob wars on Facebook lol

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rudhira

Nov 21, 2012

Yay!

0 min read

The best way to thank someone for a comment on your deviation is to return a comment on one of their deviations. :) ITS GREAT TO BE BACK :D

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rudhira

Jan 15, 2009

4:22

0 min read

Featuring Color Leonidafremov (https://www.deviantart.com/leonidafremov) :thumb104315234: :thumb103862823: :thumb101811971: yac0b (https://www.deviantart.com/yac0b) :thumb31512203: :thumb17362203: :thumb23700361: chintamani88 (https://www.deviantart.com/chintamani88) :thumb102981091: :thumb99956208: :thumb99878284: arturasrozkovas (https://www.deviantart.com/arturasrozkovas) :thumb105562757: :thumb103924646: :thumb89768991: krecha (https://www.deviantart.com/krecha) :thumb108152415: :thumb28835330: :thumb18731780: siudajSTEJ (https://www.deviantart.com/siudajstej) :thumb98890765: :thumb81146370: :thumb24506071: Clubs: !writersunknown (https://www.deviantart.com/writersunknown) :iconsimplypoetry: :iconpoetryplease: :iconthe-literati: :iconInked-Page:

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rudhira

Jan 4, 2009

10:57

0 min read

New Deviation Features: :thumb108408506: :thumb108409568: :thumb108411069: :thumb108409686: :thumb108409436: :thumb108411132: :thumb108410099: :thumb108410086: :thumb108410867: :thumb108410252: :thumb108410813: :thumb108410886: Clubs: !writersunknown (https://www.deviantart.com/writersunknown) :iconsimplypoetry: :iconpoetryplease: :iconthe-literati: :iconInked-Page: