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Miki mbizii
Attended Holy Angels' Convent
Lives in Bangalore
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Miki mbizii

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Preparation for a Descent
Deafening whispers rising from each strand. The cold has a voice that slices into nerves building tiny painful peaks. Scrawl relentlessly. That way one's sanity remains. The escape route is thorn-heavy, mold-melded doors growing outside eye-lines. Ink it do...
Deafening whispers rising from each strand. The cold has a voice that slices into nerves building tiny painful peaks. Scrawl relentlessly. That way one's sanity remains. The escape route is thorn-heavy, mold-melded doors grow...
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About Beauty
How transcendental the adoration of beauty, a cult of loveliness which is in suggestion rather than in statement, a synesthetic effect in a sentence, the lure of a nuance in a sub text. Exquisite unspokenness bursting with possibilities, unexplored. A hint ...
How transcendental the adoration of beauty, a cult of loveliness which is in suggestion rather than in statement, a synesthetic effect in a sentence, the lure of a nuance in a sub text. Exquisite unspokenness bursting with po...
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Discordance
Shed phantom leaves, barely-there prickle of an imagined line. Veins bird-songed through, poem-space in bus tickets. Fever spill, a pondering- sleep spoons seas into eyelids, see threads knotting quiver and quiver. We understood through lung-pauses, long gu...
Shed phantom leaves, barely-there prickle of an imagined line. Veins bird-songed through, poem-space in bus tickets. Fever spill, a pondering- sleep spoons seas into eyelids, see threads knotting quiver and quiver. We underst...
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Descent
My head is a garden gone to seed; my eyes are curtained windows of an abandoned house. If you stare too long you might see vague shadows move, and sometimes doubting your own sanity, you see an almost-face, a figure peering out, stir of indigo echoes in the...
My head is a garden gone to seed; my eyes are curtained windows of an abandoned house. If you stare too long you might see vague shadows move, and sometimes doubting your own sanity, you see an almost-face, a figure peering o...
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On Writing Poems
Picture: Collected Poems by Wisława Szymborska, an old, broken anklet, button from a bag and a wooden cat rattle.
Picture: Collected Poems by Wisława Szymborska, an old, broken anklet, button from a bag and a wooden cat rattle.
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Perhaps one day I could replace the tiny blue piece of enamel that chipped off the edge of her cup when I dropped it. She never noticed that chipped edge, all the more reason for me to want to stick it back. She was so charmi...
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Have her in circles
41 people
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Miki mbizii

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.
How do you define this? These broken birds clawing the spaces between bones, this pale roar re-vibrating through hollows in my words, this swelling landscape of unspokenness.
How do you define this? These broken birds clawing the spaces between bones, this pale roar re-vibrating through hollows in my words, this swelling landscape of unspokenness.
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A Mid-Day Musing
A zero moment,disjunctive echoes. All 'aaaaaangs' of the bell clangs bouncing off. off. off. The walls are endless. Emptiness swallows itself; monologues while turning inside-out. A moth within a moth, within a moth, within a moth. Disintegrate to dust mote...
A zero moment,disjunctive echoes. All 'aaaaaangs' of the bell clangs bouncing off. off. off. The walls are endless. Emptiness swallows itself; monologues while turning inside-out. A moth within a moth, within a moth, within a...
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For You. My Adored Fragments.
All at once the hazes, shadows and silhouettes became tangible bodies. An abstraction of conversations, brief flickers and surreal telepathy turned into real voices, nuances, corporeal inflections, juxtapositions.  We became palpable. A diffusion of clouds ...
All at once the hazes, shadows and silhouettes became tangible bodies. An abstraction of conversations, brief flickers and surreal telepathy turned into real voices, nuances, corporeal inflections, juxtapositions.  We became ...
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Miki mbizii

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Time Has Come
Hey
you! Do ask me things. How I am doing. What I am doing… anything. It’s high
time you start acknowledging the fact that I’m right here, for good, plugged to
you, becoming mad multiples of you. Oh, do stop shrieking and clutching
yourself! Isn’t it becomi...
Hey you! Do ask me things. How I am doing. What I am doing… anything. It’s high time you start acknowledging the fact that I’m right here, for good, plugged to you, becoming mad multiples of you. Oh, do stop shrieking and clu...
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Becoming Post Rock
"A band's journey through rock to post-rock usually involves a trajectory from narrative lyrics to stream-of-consciousness to voice-as-texture to purely instrumental music". - Simon Reynolds ("Post-Rock") Due to work I don’t get to read as much as I liked t...
"A band's journey through rock to post-rock usually involves a trajectory from narrative lyrics to stream-of-consciousness to voice-as-texture to purely instrumental music". - Simon Reynolds ("Post-Rock") Due to work I don’t...
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All She Is
Perhaps one day I could replace the tiny blue piece of enamel that chipped off the edge of her cup when I dropped it. She never noticed that chipped edge, all the more reason for me to want to stick it back. She was so charmingly singular! Just like the pur...
Perhaps one day I could replace the tiny blue piece of enamel that chipped off the edge of her cup when I dropped it. She never noticed that chipped edge, all the more reason for me to want to stick it back. She was so charmi...
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People
Have her in circles
41 people
Jeeta Chacko's profile photo
lijeesh k's profile photo
Girish Kumar's profile photo
Mayur Sharma's profile photo
Binu Karunakaran's profile photo
Sandeep Menon's profile photo
Jesbin A's profile photo
Meriem Saidani's profile photo
Riyas Hani's profile photo
Work
Employment
  • Content Writer/Poet
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Currently
Bangalore
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Tagline
An angel-headed hipster
Education
  • Holy Angels' Convent
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Gender
Female