The Perfect Crime

Whats the perfect crime,
He asked, with a twinkle in his eye,
I was perturbed, taken aback,
Why do you ask? I chimed in,
Just a passing frenzy, was his reply.

I do not know, I retorted,
A lier you are, he giggled a tease,
Well, if you ask, I may,
But alas, I can't satisfy your quest,
Thats perfect,  a smile of unease.

What is that bothers me the most,
His question was to the point,
I guess, my indifference,
A smile played, as he stared,
I guess he was clairvoyant.

And I saw the reason behind his smile,
The perfect crime, he replied, 
Is the one you never get caught with,
And his smile turned grey,
As every happy memory of me died.

The perfect crime, is to forget you,
Erase your existence, his words I feared,
And before my eyes, I ceased,
I ceased to exist, with every laughter,
The perfect crime, he sighed, as I disappeared. 



- Tim

The Chronicles of Lady Death - Ya'el

"Oh righteous woman, of the tribe of Kenites,

Let me rest my head for a while,

Lest I be captured, tortured  and killed,

For my iron-bound chariots are stuck,

Stuck at the nature's mercy"

"Oh righteous woman, of the tribe of Kenites,

Let me rest my head for a while,

My foot is sore, and my enemies close to heal,

For my iron-bound chariots are stuck,

Stuck at the nature's mercy"

"Oh righteous woman, of the tribe of Kenites,

Let me rest my head for a while,

I, Sisera, the commander of Jabin's army, am lost,

For my iron-bound chariots are stuck,

Stuck at the nature's mercy"

"I am Ya'el, of the tribe of Kenites,

The first wed of Heber,

You may rest, oh stranger, I plea, you rest,

For a prophecy looms in my shadows,

And the plague of death in yours"

"I am Ya'el, of the tribe of Kenites,

The first wed of Heber,

A blanket for your tired soul, oh sleep,

For a prophecy looms in my shadows,

And the plague of death in yours"

"I am Ya'el, of the tribe of Kenites,

The first wed of Heber,

A jug of milk, for your parched throat, drink

For a prophecy looms in my shadows,

And the plague of death in yours"

"I Deborah, the judge of the mighty,

And prophetess of the lost, says,

Raise your army oh Barak, raise it against Jabin,

Victory will be yours, against the mighty Sisera,

A victory honoured by a woman."

"I Deborah, the judge of the mighty,

And prophetess of the lost, says, 

The night would be rough and nature cruel, and behold

Victory will be yours, against the mighty Sisera,

A victory honoured by a woman."

"I Deborah, the judge of the mighty,

And prophetess of the lost, says, 

Cannan is yours, yours for the taking, and descry, 

Victory will be yours, against the mighty Sisera,

A victory honoured by a woman."

The hour struck late, and the prophecy fulfilled,

As sleep swept in Sisara's dreams,

A tent peg, in one hand, and mallet in other,

A strike, and two, victory followed,

As Ya'el drew the peg into Sisara's temples.

Ya'el (Jael) - Wiki

The Chronicles of Lady Death - Prologue

Hold still my love,

Let me caress your dying breath.

Hear my heart beat,

In wail of the approaching death.

Hold still my love,

Let me caress the amber sun,

I promised love, 

Ah, pain of the departed one.

My heart raises in fury,

My heart burns with anguish,

The sight of you, my love,

Hell maketh best,  I wish.

Hold still my love,

Let my anger burn down valleys,

Hear my silent plea,

Oh death, I cherish my malice.

A child lost, a love lost, 

My love, I daresay,

I shall burn the cities,

I shall parade them in hearse. 

The Chronicles of Lady Death.

What if the world was round.

I ask my self,
Do ships sail north, or round,
I ask myself,
Do the birds fly south.

I ask my self,
Do the seasons change,
I ask my self,
Does the sun set, ever.

I ask myself,
Does the moon know the path,
I ask myself,
Does the wind just randomly blow.

I ask myself,
Do the tides raise, or just die down,
I ask myself,
Does the spring last forever.

I ask a lot,
I ask a bit less,
But I do ask for sure,
Is the world really round?.

City of the Sleepless

The sun sang the lullaby, 

As it bid farewell to the earth,

What a waste, what a waste.

The nightlings waited, 

As children for parents to leave,

With darkness, merrymaking. 

The moon stepped the lights,

Ambient white light, you may call,

The night was alive, revelry every where.

The night grew intense, cold wind swept,

And with the raising chill,

Merry making reached the peak. 

Old and young alike, wandered the streets, 

Matching their steps, a drunken dance,

To the low hum of the night wind.

At length the star of the night arrived,

Clad in the frozen coat, 

The mystery man, Sleep they call.

And each being, young and old,

Matched the steps to the cold,

As Sleep danced, to the trumpet ball.

Soon in the dead of the night, 

The party reached the end, 

And as the first rays of sun hit,

The day woke, blissful to the night.

The Street Light

The eyes of the kid, street urchin, 

Shimmered, with a distant dream, 

As he lay wrapped under my light,

Skies and stars, reflected in his dream,

And he slowly faded into the sleep.

Her mind was fixed, thoughts calculated,

The pen poured ink, on the blank paper,

Hope filled her aura, blanketed in a yellow tint,

Hope to achieve, as she sat under me,

Hope to lighten the burdens of her life. 

A tear of joy, a tear of sadness, 

I couldn't tell them apart,

She sat cuddled in her lovers arm, 

A good bye I reckon, or a sense of comfort,

My light made them whole, as they waited.

The redness of the pool, dripping, reflected orange,

As he lay gasping, against a blinking headlight,

I wish I could help him, but alas I was not moved,

The wails of a distant siren, caught my ears,

As I saw his life, disappear, under the cold yellow light.

These are my stories,

Every night a new tale,

Every night a new life.

I wait, for someone, to look into,

I wait someone to talk to.

The Song of the Southern Wind

The Sun Spoke, 
The sweetest of the words,
That befell any ear before,

'Whom are you waiting for',
A shy smile, replied.
'A love I reckon',
The sun simmered. 

The clouds gathered,
A tale they longed to hear,
Of love, of longing, of the wait.

'Why the blush', the sun teased,
The smile gave way,
'Its a secret', she replied,
The clouds awed, women of the same feather.

The rain had a different tale,
'Who are you waiting for',
They chimed, a drizzle of words,

'Why don't you clear off',
She, rhymed the rhythm,
Rhythm of the thunder,
as it echoed through the clouds.

And as the rain parted farewell,
And the sun geared with joy,
And the clouds that dispersed with awe.

He stood, all in his glory,
Seven colors, majestic, royal,
Her blush gave way to joy,
And the southern wind smiled.