Repainting a Self-Portrait

What was once an era of devious confusion,
Now a steadfast return among my men,
Bled out of hunger in this plastic projection,
Several years lost searching in blindness,
Revelations about a distant past to withhold,
An answer to a question I never meant to ask,
Alas, a wishful thinking for an overnight stay,
Amongst Earth’s wisdom and harmonious warmth,
Not a chaotic maze but a vast fading mirage,
An illusion for a temporary rhythmic laughter,
Thus, for tomorrow, many shall be filtered out,
Those cheerful claps for my burnt funeral,
Perfidious figurines dancing at a drowning ritual,
No more – an awakening – an enlightenment –
A plastic world forever recycled for an ascension,
Resurrecting all symbolism to be a sand granule,
Repainting the true smiles of a self-portrait.

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Ongoing Deprivation of Justice

And I am a furious enraged mountainous storm,
Tied in chains to the depths of ice-capped oceans,
A recent void of an unknown origin belittles me,
Many holes poked into my ancient frozen scales,
No being dared so, except, a miniature called human,
O celestial stars witness the deception of our era,
And woe to the Time where I have to resurface.

The Planet We Protect

A help from earth guardians,
And the summoning rituals begin,
Prehistorical water dragons sound the horn,
For forest beasts to begin the invasion.

A sense of loss engulfs me,
And the lack of words leaves me agape,
Inappropriate mental weather storms
Drive me into a chaotic silence.

And as we live through climatic fumes,
I win few elderly pawns,
Alas, the queen mourns as
The guardians crush our king.

To My Offspring

I just wrote an encrypted letter,
Layered with seven coding systems,
Then I rolled it for a forgotten era,
Picked up a green ribbon for a knot,
A clear glass bottle for transportation,
And a sea for an unknown itinerary,
Forty-six months without a reply,
Trapped in a dimensionless time,
Awaiting the whispers of an angel,
Voices of my ancestry start to tremble,
The return of our long-lost kingdom was
But a mirage in a servant’s mind,
The forest trees have burnt,
The valleys became arid wastelands,
Scorching heat and starless nights,
And all I could wish for was the comfort in
Lying over our forefathers’ graves,
Keeping an eye for the falcon’s shadow,
In hope for a living, for a resurrection,
For some powerful force to guide the
Bottled letter through the nine oceans,
But it is my time to bid you farewell, Offspring.

No, Wrong

I found a blooming flower,
Less nourished, innocent,
Somewhat crooked, tired,
I set observation platforms,
And I water it surreptitiously,
Afraid – she bends away,
Curious – she bends forward,
A dance of some sort –
Yet, all I wanted was to observe –
All she wanted was a bit more –
Now, unable to decide,
Confusion overlaps logic,
Between here and then,
Keeping distance for a day,
Living together for three,
Into the unknown and into our future,
What lies ahead is what we do today,
And I need to learn to say no,
I think – to let it – cease –
Because – it is – I think – wrong.

National Day of Robotic Maintenance

Your story, main character, and world
Talked to me, to the elders of my tribe,
During an elusive era where simple
Silhouettes walk on a desert’s horizon,
Searching to settle near a fruitful oasis,
And when books were written to
Commemorate our legends, they were
Suffocated to never reveal the rightful heir,
(to a scorching throne buried in quicksand)
Yet, after decades of silence the glorious
Book was resurrected in a classical concert,
Soon to be confiscated, burnt, and our
Whispering hearts to be forever silenced,
Now, we are but drones awaiting the
National Day of Robotic Maintenance.

Of Moons and Men

What if two moons
Endure a fated collision,
And then plan to invade
The vibrant green planet,
Crashing on its crust
To pull it together or apart,
Bleeding into its valleys
Distancing its wounds from the past,
Their debris treasured
Within the depths of graves,
Men to erect totems
For a sacrificial burial,
A possible resurrection
To rule over other Men,
Lustful villainous desires
Ending in an abyssal black hole,
Woes to the greed of Men
As the moons glow in ascension.