Monday, June 9, 2014

De-flowering



The petals had fallen off,
And there seemed to be nothing pure or flowery
About you anymore.
With respect enmeshed to ground,
And ire apparent in the blood red eyes,
The angry feet could only stamp on the shadows.
The hand that had rocked the cradle-
Now just seemed a skeletal effigy
Of hatred.
Deflowered, you stood thus,
Yet unflinching, to the blows that rained-
As the popularity that had reigned,
Had only made you thick-skinned.
In a smile,
You bare your teeth-
Savagery apparent in every selfish sinew-
The cellular structure so infallible-
That time could only molest,
Your bravado.
Slyness prevailed as it coated your every act-
Too late, to be perceptible
And measured, by the innocuous.
Yet, an eye-opener, you,
Have made a Hero out of Nero-
Pulsating death into every life-
And smiling a coquettish grin-
At all that fell apart,
In a wreck, created by you.
Destruction, is what your sadistic streak
Ever loved-
Or just a puppy dog adulation.
Sad, be that deflowered face,
Whose path is nothing but impure!


Sunday, June 1, 2014

Words

Owl with Yellow Eyes

Do words inspire
When spoken in the soft shadows,
Of the veiled darkness?
Are the lips that utter,
The Holy Grail to wholesomeness.
When shredded or shrouded
In somnolence,
Are words, then,
A solace?
Does silence amplify thoughts?
And words, merely a poor interface
Between intent of fact
And extent of act ?
Should you look at the yellow eyes of the owl
As it lies awake,
A sentinel to your clouds?
Or should you let the bat,
Flap it's black wings and fly-
Carrying thoughts unsaid
Into the night sky?
Would you trust the blood moon
With it's black orb like craters
Showing a certain destiny?
Do you then see,
The shapeless reflection
Of words shared-
In and around you-
As they smile benignly?