Galactic Funeral

She and he: the descendants of Erigone and Icarius,
An ancient relationship between the weeping heavens,
And if I were to step forward to touch her heart,
Polaris would stand on our heavens roaring,
Virgo would shoot its stars into thunderstorms,
But the intimate feelings from my touch starts pouring
Its floral essences into her starry eyes. So we dance.
Enraging monsoons envelope our little forbidden kiss,
And I touch her lips as we ascend onto our throne.

Societal Change

What of a society deemed to
Never survive over the divine
Earthly crust that resurrects
The cries of life, buries elders
In bottomless pits during an
Era previously defined by its
Endless guidance to all men,
Except all their whispers are
Gone beyond resurgence in
A non-existent society that
Bordered light and darkness,
Where definitions of living
Has misdirected those who
Obtained world maps and
Compasses to redirect their
Lost souls into what was once
The essence and the building
Block of the lives of human beings:
Eyes darted into infinite horizons,
Ears forged symbolic understandings,
Hands… O woe to the mishaps,
Taking a turn on behalf of the
Rest of a non-existent society
Deemed to once upon a time
Resurrect at a pace unknown
To the cries of life,
To the hisses of death.

Dating a Succubus

She dresses in a lavender magical love potion,
Its fragrances deludes my dreamy raving mind,
Rings, necklaces, and bracelets glowing around,
Her black vivid eyes dart into my trembling heart,
Golden silky garments in many lines and curves,
The relic she now closes and my senses are back,
Fear strangles my palpitating heart into a knot,
Her snaky smirk hisses its tongue into my ears,
What she wants – what she asks is something
That goes against the morals of being a human,
She takes out her spidery black hands and goes
For my heart, for my throat, and my naïve eyes.

The Two Lads

The old lad and the not-so-old young lad
Started to walk together by the beach,
One had a stick and the other sunglasses,
The night swallowed the rays of lightness,
And crows would appear from the horizon –
Extremely distant that the two lads found
It excruciatingly painful to stare at, and so,
One of them sat on the snow-covered
Deserted unscathed wooden bench that
Was genetically engineered to survive
This apocalyptic world of many shadows,
The old lad went to his pockets and
Spread his palms out where seeds laid
There: warm, still, and totally silent,
The not-so-old young lad was extremely
Observant and stood firm in a great pause,
What he saw was something magical
Where extinct small birds and huge
Pelicans would soar high encircling
Those seeds, but the darkness changes
The beach and a whistling sound alarms
The two lads where they immediately
Walked along the coast in calmness,
One had a stick and the other sunglasses,
The old lad and the not-so-old young lad.

Ropes of Life

Relax and breathe as you walk
On the ropes of life to lead you
Into the beautiful gardens that
Are inhabited by mythical Fae,
And there you will be able to
Raise the infants of innocence,
And there you will once again
Believe in justice and peace
As you leave behind the cages
That rusted your hands in shackles,
So, keep walking this path
For you will surely find many
Others raising their youthful
Souls for the life of humanity.

Despised in Admiration

Elegance is a form of a walk,
Should always be associated
With, I would say, arrogance,
Indeed, only few would be
Part of the upper loyal class,
And it all starts from a walk,
It is a must in this sick society,
To distinguish us from them,
For I will never make a turn
If they are leeching around,
Never should filth be mixed
With any aristocratic human.
A piece of art written beside
A grave that is very similar
To the grave lying next to it,
How ironic will it be if both
Repelled each other’s scent,
And chose to walk a path
Of agony in a diseased era,
Only to realise that death
Not only did it not do them
Part, but also kissed fate
On its cheeks removing all
Forms of human elegance.

Tuesday, 23rdof June 2015

Red

She sits in a big diner,
Red roses on the walls,
She orders something,
Ah yes, a cold milkshake,
Crushed with strawberries,
Crimson for a colour,
From a unique plant,
It is said that it got that
Particular colour from
A sacred blood of a
Prince drenching the
Soil of a blessed forest,
And today’s special
Will be hers’ alone!

Tuesday, 23rdof June 2015