For My Self

Reluctant was I to stand ground,
My own self in total disregard,
I may lift weights overhead,
Yet, mine holding me down,
And I may talk to others nonstop,
But will the ‘silence talk’ ever start?
And I may read others’ faces,
Whilst mine buried underground.

So here is to the era of recovery,
To the morning light of my moon,
To the midnight rise of my sun:
An early bird – for a lasting lullaby,
An invention – for an open mic,
A dew – for a refreshing smile,
A postcard – for a self-reflection,
So here is to how I stood my ground.

She is not Strong

She is not strong, she is a weaponised destruction,
Think not of false prophets, but of me reincarnated,
Falter if you must be, or shelter beyond this universe,
The simple truth is just simple, strength beyond beauty,
Before one is eliminated, stand ground and raise above.

No, she is not strong, she is a weaponised destruction,
One that is always replaced, a rather used spare part,
Once blown to bits, evidently a catastrophic entity,
Such a lady is unneeded, your services are denied,
Listen to my reincarnation, think not of false prophets.

It’s Tempting

Captain came up with a plan,
We shall raid the royal ship,
Hide behind an archipelago,
And beam towards the Sun,
Forward! Right! Cannons!
Holes in their burning flag,
Battle won, their ship sunk,
And we sing on their gold,
We light a smouldering fire,
We roast a delicious lamb,
A feast ha! A feast for us all,
And while they sing, while
They dance, and while they
Eat, while they sleep, hehe,
I shall go below the ground,
All the treasure lies around,
At the centre is a huge box,
Its key is on its golden lock,
So I open it and within it lies
A dark purple slimy octopus,
So I run up towards the deck,
Back to my mates we sing,
And we dance, we eat, and
Then we shall all fall asleep.

Leaving Steampunk City

Hold the fort and wait for the cavalry, they said –
Pick our side and you will see victory, they said –
And there was a time when I believed their word,
Where I stood on castles fuming all coloured trees
To ground for trebuchets to fly us out of abyss,
But day after day we painted our great walls
With smog to block our breaths into darkness,
Gates were only opened to nature’s black debris,
Resisting was I to the temptation to leave all
Behind and hammer into similar enslavement
But on a different earth, a different whisper,
Somewhere where the greyness was never the
Symbol of life and all its essence, where our
Lost souls belonged to colours lifting us out of
Abyss without any sign of fumed destruction,
So, I followed my sailing eyes to an unknown
Horizon away from all kinds of hearts of men,
So, I let go of the fort and I picked my own side.

Lifting Depression

The mist gradually enveloped my soul,
Natural cycles of life halted,
Branches of trees snapped,
Leaves on the ground hardened,
My back becomes more crooked,
To look ahead was to open wounds,
To move backwards only eased them,
But the drums of battle pierced my limbs,
I had few breaths left,
And no chance of survival,
Then a being entered my curse,
The dark mist on my soul lifted,
The waters of life returned,
Now, my branches towards the heavens elevated.