Ne’er Moving Man


No audience

Gathers round the

Catatonic

Ne’er moving

Man;

Like a mime

Without

The empty airs

Of pretentious

Performance –

He stands eternal

In marble monument

Watching over shadows

In silent duty.

 

 

 

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The Heart-breaker


Cryptic crafted

Beating heart

Of mortal man –

What fragile

Construct,

Felled by a

Breath –

A live death

Stitched to an

Ego

In perpetual

Caricature.

 

Totalitarianism Topples


Charlatans – infallible

(In minds made theirs)

Order oppressed living obituaries

To propagate propaganda –

“To publicly proclaim perfect pretexts to total truth”.

 

They urge all under them to

Question questioners

Whose thoughts have travelled –

Now having returned

Need to be jailed or put to work.

 

Overt braggarts,

They declare their own divinity –

With covert lies clad with

Logic-defying, stupefying speech

Strikes mass in stupor.

 

Upon these conmen-

Illusionists of the dusk

Who paint every shadow

In blood – save for them

To support selves as salvation. –

Downfall fixates it’s eyes

Strikes – but once.

 

So uncovered is –

Scam and scammers

Swindlers of the soul –

 

Freed defrauded devotees

Wander, wondering when

Their angel’s flesh will roam

Again.

Sights Of Surrealism


A chink of charcoal light

Coats my cracked mind-

Opening my effulgent eyes to see that

On the brink of insanity

Is a man who sells stories

For 23 thoughts and half a reason-

And with him is a legion of lizards

Laying leaves of gold.

The chink closes-

I am left, lost in a vision

Left to interpretation. 

Refuge From Death


I

Alone, the oak stands-

The shelter of a desperate man,

With blood on his hands

And fears, rain and tears

Merged on his gaze-

Alone the oak stands.

Refuge without retribution…

II

Awake from realisation,

He who slept in the sinners respite.

That running, running night, buried.

All things are covered and revealed…

 

 

 

Thinker among the 29 fools.


Black eyes melting slowly to gray,

A thinker among the fools,

Linking the chains while sitting,

Looking for wisdom in the rain,

Seeing things not yet understood.

He sits, with hand on his face,

Wondering, what really is this place?

The man gets off, it his stop.

But his thoughtfulness still lingers in his step…