Prophet

This one is after a long while and probably shows how rusty I have become of late. Here it goes..


I dream of a stillness, a bird
Swift, fearless, unfluttered in a herd
Descending a fate with elegance and pride
Morality transcending with emotions on every stride
And when she lay her grip on the twigs
Her cluttered wings embrace the skies

I dream of a ray in the mist
Where fright held, people cease to exist
Cherished with hatered and beauty abolished
Darkness be crawled upon by a resonating impulse
This beam shall melt the shackles, Dissipate the fog
And then shall the prophet embark the stage
To free the hearts of imprisoned, mellow this rage
Liberating the tame souls beneath the animals

Far that she may reach, unaware of her glory
She has no stations, destiny carries her story
She rises again to maraud in the wind
Storm does she encounter, her feathers tear apart
It jerks her ferociously to the ground
The dirt simmering as her impact lay
An acute pain and the sudden anguish
Her wings may wave never again
She deciphers her words in the breeze
Hoping the storm can carry forth its weight
And pass the mantle to a prophet of truth

I dream a bird shall rise from shadows of deep
To awaken the distant lands covered in the mist.

Iceberg

This is probably going to be my last piece of work this year. How amazing that a person can still brave the laments in life. Its Godly nature. I've put my thoughts to the best of words. Hopefully it sounds OK.


Bubbles in the basket scatter in ruins
And smokes of the waste, ascend the Deep
Eclipsing emotions of feats amassed
As is the crystal in crater
With a passion to shatter
Torn from the sky, falls a sly
The pearls of deception that you cry
Yes i cant evade this freezing view
Yet its true, I mask from you
You can’t bridge it with her, you act a slur
ain’t she an angel, I am wary of her
Calm as her body, she screams silence
Holding me near, pushing me afar
Shadow in darkness, darker than itself
Limping eyes, static, pale and numb
Shrinking feet, barren throat, artful remorse
Yes they wind prominence
If i burn this skin to the pores of my sweat
Make it worth the serenity in tempests of regret
To breed in the torpidity of survival.
Or thread in the duty of gloom otherwise.

Nostalgia

Wrote it some few days back. Reflects some of the contrasting times. Here is how it goes.

I sense something to scrawl tonight
The concealed yards of my galactic past
My first Aesop’s tale, reminiscent at last
Crimson wires and the purple tank
Somewhere I stand in the melancholic choir
A stolid face, a skeptic crowd
My first girl, her life aghast
A sobriquet, to emulate bustle in ire
I mask, I search, I walk with a lurch
As comrades of ruin we rule
Punch iron bars, shove sorrows afar
Red is he, me blue, we ride and without a clue
I’m cruel, I gallop, I’m in godly frenzy
Bounce on the rug of this holy shrine
And I scamper home, catastrophe I heave
To sweat in belligerence and dry in muse
I adore not these stars, they are inane
But I love this moon, when his face derange
I lie cuddled in the cushion of my snow
And when this serenity dies, I lay cold
But it’s is not a cry, I am aloof, we are poles apart.

Melancholy

This is the one! Yes it's the one which makes me satisfied of my work. I'm proud I chose to continue writing and this compliments me.


On the brink of reluctance we defer
Afraid to look behind the shadow
In the hazel dark of the chilly mystic night
Under the golden dust to hide behind the steep
Waiting for the bright light to arrive
And sometimes we cry to hide the pain
The world looks no different with tearful eyes
They dry soon enough and the colour remain
In the time of anguish the usual often weep
Some are loud and some had pillows to sleep
To heal them some seek happiness and some revenge
But I have none to conquer
Because happiness is no stagnant
And revenge is a curiosity of weak
Sometimes we endure with no god beneath
And if human he was, here to breathe
Could he belong to the selfishness?
Could he bear the torment of wicked nobles?
It is the ache that throbs, in no doubt it is
It’s restrained and relaxed enough to doze
This narcotic would thrust a life into us
But on a fresh wound it’ll surface with vigour
Like the spears and copper tipped arrows
Like the sky of rosy thorns, that approach with venom
And spread the fire of disaster on this frosty snow
That was cast by the hailstorm last night
But aren’t we the superficial atheists
Thieves of superstition and honesty
With a brag of moral wisdom
We do live behind the velvet curtains
But we can surely overcome this swagger.

Trahison (treason)

This was probably somewhere around the rack, so probably wouldn’t be able to describe much but surely it deals with the rejection in life. It’s the betrayal that is almost impossible to deal with, the treason that you cant let go. Hope it sounds fine.

Delight and distress are hopes that lay behind.
I killed the disciple and the polite essence in me.
You taught me all but love you forgot to teach.
I shriek in bareness, keen to fill the night.
None too shallow, too foul have I seen,
To label it obstinate, that was your breed.
I stay alone to mimic the nearness to you.
Should I not bother now, would you forbid?
You did mould me, now you plead thy shame.
And I know it’s the brutal suffering of sympathy,
That thou had cursed upon my breath.
How liable was I, to stain your cover,
That you influence me to the reason of deceit?
It’s a shattering reality, a scorn to my destiny.
But I would end this day, this fate, this irony of late.
This is what my portrait of laughter will flaunt.
Awaited, I have, to hear how freedom will echo.
To recognise this sound, hopefully you won’t be around.