There used to be a time when the now recent acts and appearances were abominable,
Now all that we rebuked are seen as usual,
All condemned, now accepted.
All deadly, now managed for survival.
Why do we have to accept that?
Why do we have to leave our former life comforts?
Do we not miss then, when we had all things freshly perishable?
Do we not miss our sane healthy souls?
Steadily we discarded the good histories,
Rapidly we accept vanity.
Sorrowfully our hearts weaken,
Only for the falsehood in our recent vain existence.
Truly over time, we have corrected our historic wrongs.
But what else do we do, when we damage the already corrected wrong.
What else do we do but let the right ways rotten?
Leaving only dead and empty flesh we call society.
Now we only live to die soon.
Friday, June 24, 2016
Monday, June 20, 2016
SERENA COME DWELL
Sunny mornings, bright wake, what I hope to see.
Joyful heart, cheerful soul, the only feeling I want.
After all these, life will never be what I hope it'll be.
Now darkness, sadness.
Tears for all I want not received.
Heaviness in my heart I wish to shed off.
Loneliness for what I feel alone.
Praying now everyday, I find peace
Praying I find the light
For all I need now is Serena
To come dwell and ease my pain
Friday, January 22, 2016
BLACK SUIT....
Alarm sound, Loud buzzing sound
The morning breeze with its strong touch
Dawn breaking, cracking, quaking to the
Morning light to rise and stand guard.
Staring through his window by his bed side
Watching the sky brighten by the dawn's break,
He hurries for as he looks, he sees he has no time to spare
For as the morning comes, so will the night come
Clock click on his kitchen wooden floor,
The black soles of his black leather shoes act
Actions like that of a soldier off to war
Actions of a fit warrior dedicated to his course
The smell of hustle, the dew on his fore head
The chase for survival and the struggle to fulfil an existence
Discouraged yet committed, "My own quota must count"
His song, to ready himself for the Rest to come.
The morning breeze with its strong touch
Dawn breaking, cracking, quaking to the
Morning light to rise and stand guard.
Staring through his window by his bed side
Watching the sky brighten by the dawn's break,
He hurries for as he looks, he sees he has no time to spare
For as the morning comes, so will the night come
Clock click on his kitchen wooden floor,
The black soles of his black leather shoes act
Actions like that of a soldier off to war
Actions of a fit warrior dedicated to his course
The smell of hustle, the dew on his fore head
The chase for survival and the struggle to fulfil an existence
Discouraged yet committed, "My own quota must count"
His song, to ready himself for the Rest to come.
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