Healing a Portrait

You are the halo of a starry night,
They are the ashes of a cigarette,
In dark hours you shimmer in light,
As they shadow a sunrise into sunset.

Heal a wound for a future fight,
Ascend above them without a regret,
Show a sickened society who is right,
And the wrong they will surely forget.

Hope within me you would always ignite,
So, falter not and join me to get,
A family’s portrait, a city’s highlight,
A royal welcome to Romeo’s Juliet.

So do not worry, everything’ll be alright.

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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.

Protect You, I Will

Whisper to me,
Interrupt my vision,
In euphoria,
Emotional trance,
A heart’s utopia,
Hands wrap around,
Bodies buried within,
Harmonious collisions,
Self-portrait unmasked,
Bloodshot eyes,
Ragged clothes,
Wounded mind,
Scarred knuckles,
Fading into loud sirens,
Shadows gathering,
Few coming into focus,
Gravity seems powerful,
Time is out of reach,
Hopelessness conceived,
Soldier resurrected.

Fighting for Her

The one in a billion being brought to light
In a dark era where many bark and bite,
And a passer-by noted the infringement
Of the laws in a dystopian society,
And he saw the predators hunting the wounded angel,
Now that Time has shown a different face
Discharging electrical shocks that shocked his mind beyond repair,
And he tried to stand firm against dust storms
Crippling the minds of pure beings,
She was indeed falsely accused, involuntarily resurrected,
And I have sworn to evacuate this polluted era
Such that she may feel alive, at least once, by me,
An objective and a burden I carry until I succeed,
For she is one in a billion brought to light in a dark era.

Breathing a Life

Torn between two dimensions,
To live a lie amongst old lovers,
And treat newly sliced wounds,
Here, now, I can’t breathe right,
Neither can I walk well nor talk,
Nor can I bright my own eyesight,
And I am torn here for over there,
The lovely change of my new life,
Pages in my own history written
For more years; abruptly ended,
To live in my own: free, for me,
Selfish, undeniably, but at least
I will be able to breathe again.

Change the System Not the Climate

Now, you just need to write
It down like you did before,
Something you are angry about,
Something about this world, or
Something you are passionate about,
Something that you want to protect –
No matter what,
Something you want to forever erase –
No matter what,
Write about the voiceless justice,
Or about the cries of rotten rats
That swarm the news headlines,
Billionaires owning what we hear,
What we see, and what we read,
The one percent guiding us,
The ninety-nine, into believing
The benefits of their mastery over
Our voluntary enslavement,
A charitable movement from us,
The ninety-nine, towards them,
The one percent, and indeed,
We allowed our men into war,
Maggots feeding on the sizzling
Dish to be served on golden
Plates and royal cutlery that
Become tomorrow’s headlines,
And we believe in their heroism,
We cheer for their deaths,
And we cheer for their return,
Returning wounded and voiceless,
And if any exposes the buried
Atrocities, then we accept
The system that puts them
On the menu for Today’s Special,
And we vote for the one percent,
For their beautifully carved thrones,
A burden that we choose to carry,
In our name they decree airstrikes
On hospitals, schools, and places
Of worship with cover stories to
Allude us into dancing our feet
Off the ground until we believe
Our transformation into celestial
Creatures; angels that protect
The world from corruption,
From demons in their own lands,
The lands of the ninety-nine,
Resources sucked out dry
As their thrones continue to
Expand in our sacred name,
And as we smoke our air
Into smithereens because
The system is meant to be
Treated that way, we await
A dance ritual from the one
Percent to alleviate our
Suffering, and what we,
The ninety-nine, see are them
False banners about the attempt
For climate change in the next
Few decades, a hopeful bait like
A carrot to a donkey’s journey,
And one day the carrot will
Burn and the donkey will
Run in reverse failing to
Notice the enclosing floods,
And indeed, in our sacred
Name the planet will survive,
The one percent in their jets
Will survive, but never us,
The ninety-nine of us
Will continue to roll a die
Into the inevitable homelessness,
An acceptable collateral damage
Discussed in their board meetings,
So, no need to find a solution
Since there is no problem
In this profit-driven system,
Devised by the one percent;
Meanwhile, we applaud their
Beautifully carved thrones as
They dust us out of history.