Wednesday, May 9, 2018

The Lull before the Storm

The little bee dropped its head, the buzz died,
Settling with the dust, a storm approaches.

A dried petal of a dying flower, bee smiles,
The petal floats, settling among the corpses.

The chaos blows its trumpet, mighty high it rides,
Victory, it screams, warpath is my home road.

My shield, my strength, where lost art thou,
Hold my arms, ride along, on the mighty toad.

The grunge of the metal, grinding on asphalt,
With every step I dissolve, I fade into space.

I try to hold on, your hands, your memories,
The bugle plays the harmonies, chaos stays.

And at length, the bee spoke again,
At length it stoped staring at the dead leaf.

A mighty roar, from a fragile being,
The storm approaches, stealth of a thief.

Sunday, March 18, 2018

The Sunshine

'Do you like the sound of rain?', 
Her mischievous smile spoke out, 
I do, I repeated, as my head bobbed. 

'Why let the clouds gloom you, then?',
Her teasing smile echoed through the silence, 
I don't know, I responded.

'Why is it that you like the sun?'
Her spirit giggled, a wide grin of teeth.
'Isn't it a good feeling?', I retorted.

'I can be your sunshine',
Her words oozed tenderness,
As she caressed my hair.

I can be your sunshine, 
A kiss she planted, as she faded.
'Sunshine, through your darkest clouds.'

Tuesday, February 20, 2018

[Two Song Poem] The Burnout Syndrome

'Who, reigns longer, chaos or misery?',
The question did  raise an eyebrow or two,
But adamant I was about the question,
An answer just a forethought to all the lies.

Do you feel it in your nerves, an urge to quit early,
Do you feel it burn your senses, in the dreamless sleeps.

'Chaos', I answered, she smiled, a smirk,
The battle is just about to begin, she pondered,
As she swung around in her childish prologues,
'I wish I knew the answer', sigh, all I could gather.

It ticks deep now, the clock of uncertainty,
It ticks deep, I should quit, the voice echoes.

Time is an illusion, I lie to myself,
Every step, a mechanical clockwork,
'Chaos, is life', I sigh to my self,
She laughs, mocking me to my core.

'Knock, knock', she says, a childish giggle,
I know its a joke, but 'Whose there?', I reply.

At last, she gets up, 'the game's up', she says,
'I am bored, and I need a new lie to live',
Empty, is that what I feel, searching in me,
'A new lie i need', She says, as she walks away.

I am stranded in an Island of lies, I see her walk away,
I am stranded in an Island, I see my life walk away.

The burn out Syndrome
(Songs Played Together)
Song 1: Arriving somewhere but not here
Song 2: Melodic Death Metal / Metalcore Mix

Thursday, February 8, 2018

Will I know Her Pain

The blue of the night, reflected, precise, I do say, her eyes,
Her face drawn in a little frown, I guess, I can play a part in her games.

The angel who saw life depart,  as her wings were clipped,
Caught in an inter-twined truth, I play a part in her tears.

Life was just a little hidden treat, a ball mask, to be forgotten,
As the night settles deep, I see her blue eyes moisten.

My little dream, she blossomed,  she withered with the sun,
Dreams written on a page, I wish I could paint them pretty.

Purple bled the canvas, as the wings re-grew,
A fraction of an eon, they did stay, then fade at dawn.

Fate was a cruel joke, a celestial ploy, she would sigh,
A hug, a kiss, was that all I could gather, was that all I could give.

I saw her bloom, I saw her fade, I saw her grow, I saw her age,
I saw the little dreams blossom, I saw the dreams turn to nightmares.

But, till the end, I was unable to feel her pain.

Friday, February 2, 2018

The Club of the Unfortunate

He cleared his throat, as he raised the toast,
'To my fellow members', his sound coughed,
'I raise this toast, to the fellow unfortunate'.

The new guy smiled, shying from the prying eyes,
He knew his misfortunes, Lady luck was busy,
As his creditors played the devil's advocate to his wealth.

'We are a rare breed', the toastmaster continued,
'Our purple robes have faded to a crimson red',
'Lets welcome our new member', he raised, an applause.

His smile turned to a blush, as he squirmed to the corner,
The Cornish eyes judged his new found wealth,
The Cornish eyes judged his newly lost wealth.

'I am a deadbeat', his voice cracked as he raised his drink,
The crowd cheered him, drowning him in judgement,
'I have gambled, I am the prodigal son'.

'I have a house, half claimed by my habits',
'A life which I live for the unfortunate in me',
'And a mansion, ridden with lies', he sighed.

'Lets be grateful for the misfortunes we have',
He ended his toast speech, reclaimed his throne,
The throne of the many kings of misfortune.

Tuesday, January 30, 2018

Chronicles of Lady Death - Countess Of Death

"Why should I fear death?
If I am, then death is not. If Death is, then I am not.
Why should I fear that which can only exist when I do not?..." - Epicurus

Youth, the fountain of joy, yet thee evade my grasp,
Youth, the lust of freedom, born out of a divine lie.

The blood of the un-bled, I hope is my cure,
As I lay, parched from within, yet wet to my core,
Crimson stains, they refuse to wash off.

Youth, the forbidden truth, suckling on death.
Youth, Edith's worry, a mystical piece of jewel.

Here I grow old, time my foe, it grows, it wriggles, 
Scarred by time, I wrinkle, shrivel, yet 
Thee oh my love, I bathe in, as I inch closer to death

Youth, the unquenchable thirst, hope of death,
Youth, thou the lavish fantasy of men.

I have bathed a million times, yet time wins,
Time my foe, since I first knew love,
You will wither, he said, a kiss his farewell.

Youth, the unfound treasure, I yern for thee,
Youth, behold your mistress, make me yours.

They stand at my gate, a hundred deaths upon me,
They stand to judge, I wash my hands in blood,
I am yours, Oh fable of the victorious.

I am yours my love, and in death we shall be one.

Elizabeth Báthory

Saturday, January 6, 2018

Night Train to Velli

Amid the tight glances, I stood,
Steadfast, a word less searched for,
By the foot hold of the last wagon,
Of the Queen as she chugged through.

Black clouds rose in the night sky,
Moon and stars blanketed by her gurgling smog,
Each cloud a plumage of the night bird, fluffy coal candies.

The ride was long, I was told,
I ignored, rather enjoyed the rumble,
The tics and taks on the metal rail,
As the wheels echoed on, into the darkness.

An amber shone bright in the distance,
And the Queen started the long screech,
Pungent whiff of her diesel fog,  her engines coma-ed.

My fears grew roots, As the queen halted,
The amber turned to red, gale birthed a gentle breeze,
The smell of screeching metal fumed the night air,
The Queen had stoped her righteous stride.

I alighted the royal gait, stepping into the cold sand,
The red turned to green, but miles away was I,
My legs, my chariots, fear my fuel.

The Queen started her slow chug, the royal march,
The faint echo of her wail, annoyance it did speak,
I heard her slow rumble, as she regained her posture,
But miles away I was from her, moon my witness.

My captors turned red in her bosom, as she chugged,
Their sleep played the Judas in the grand scheme,
I felt the cold sand beneath my feet, freedom I guess.

I do feel pity for the gallows waiting for me,
The lonely little hoops, but what is mercy to me,
As I ran to the freedom, and the Queen conquered new shores.