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.


Awaiting Her Transformation

Worn out from the
Remnants of natives,
Here I lie atop the
Graves of ancient civilisations,
Cultivating my heart for
A well-choreographed dance,
A birdsong making its way
Towards the doors of heaven,
And there I meet her, an
Exotic figurine, my stellar angel.
Passing through the realms of
Humanity day and night,
Beams of halo surrounding
The inner core of humanity,
To relieve the slaves from their
Eminent fate of bottomless pits,
And to revive the smiles of a forlorn
Youth deemed to be among the forgotten,
So, here I delve into her inner cave
Protected from the creeping eyes of others,
And I see, and I hear, and I touch,
As I explore her caged emotions,
So please, let them out, O stellar angel,
And let me absorb your enraging tears,
For as long as the heart beats and the lungs breathe,
I will protect you as you await your transformation.

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.

Urbanisation of the East

I dig into the graves of the butterflies –
Once soaring over the habitats of men
To share a dancing ritual in a ceremony –
And I find the final jigsaw puzzle piece,
Puzzling my peaceful self as I unearth the truth,
Concrete cremating our buried Mother Nature.

Memoirs of Bones

I lay flat on a mossy graveyard,
A majestic hall once upon a time,
And I await my resurrection to
Introduce a new age for the pirates,
Alas, the white rounded piece of
My elbow has itched for eternity,
The hollow area in my skull brought
Me chills over my body – dead body,
And sometimes it whistles loudly
To attract a creature’s attention,
Yet, only lizards and weird insects
Creep nearby, alas, no humans!
If I was fortunate to meet a mage:
Like a famous person in the old age
That was able to track the hidden
Golden charm under my ilium,
But that is a big enraging IF that
Effed me with delusional hopes
For a couple of mossy centuries,
And it’s itchy! – just go away –
Ah, look at the clock, it’s tea time!

Two Dimensions

The tongue will not speak up the words
I am willing to share with this bright world.
Time has given a divine accusation to
A crumbling soul: split between two
Dimensions separating the limbs towards
The opposite polar – the nasty negative
And the pure positive – having a go at
My delicate heart burning it to ashes
As the blood boils the magnificent mind
Into accepting the fate of its bodily
Joints to get twisted beyond repair.
There I typed it since the tongue is still
Not brave enough to free its twists tangled
Between two very different worlds; each
Going through an enormous phase of
Continuous collisions. This begets an
Aspect of life lived for the lies of others;
Only hesitation would creep into
Mine as I put on an act for an audience
Deemed to become a mirage. But since
The mask is a bit crooked, loosening it
Is the only option, so I try to take it off,
But then my world would disintegrate
Below the earthly dust and form a
Massive grave that I would just have
To voluntarily (in pain) crawl into.

On the Verge of

Tell not the mind about the palpitating heart
As it surfs freely onto its emotional waves,
Keep the logic at bay to feel a heatstroke,
Just once, and maybe give it a sunburn, too,
Something that would bring joy after sunset,
Like an aromatic summer sun-kissed morning,
A breakfast to my longing lazy hazel eyes,
And as the world utters heart-full songs,
(An adventurous journey of many silences)
Mountains cry aloud many silences,
Waves crush wildly into many silences,
Thunderous lightening shocks many silences,
Until many silences shake the earths of our whispers,
A volcanic earthquake to erupt the
Palpitating heart while the mind is still at bay,
And then another heart-full song about
A hopeful journey of a dehydrating branch
Of a disillusioned tree that follows
The rotten stars into massive graveyards,
Tombstones carving elaborate false banners,
And as the morning cries many more silences:
Sacrificial ones, peaceful ones, hopeful ones,
Ones that would rehydrate that particular branch
Towards the heavens to soar over clouds of bliss.