Death

Death.

A concept.

A reality.

The state when a life is plunged into a state of nothingness,

Absolute and empty.

This world is not a slave of time.

It is far beyond it.

It is the emptiness,

The absolute freedom.

No words.

No reason.

No reality.

No time.

Nothing.

It is the state of absolute nothing.

It is the state of absolute freedom.

It is death.

A concept.

A reality

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Child Soldier

War is that point of negotiations when whords are no longer enough.

Now, its all left to who holds the best.

Brick by brick falls to pieces

desperate yells silenced.

The sun glares. The rain screams

Thunder- the orchestra of the explosion of grenades,

while lightening rips across the sky, slicing the empire of the clouds, the same way

the sword slices human flesh-

like butter.

The moon is red. It bleeds, collecting and attracting blood from the sliced

decaying remains rotting on the fields where the war was silenced, the same

way a magnet attracts metal to itself.

Ceasefire cleanses the clamour of the previous night.

After all, no longer is the child soldier compelled to fight.

Years fly by, like the birds who’s wings rule the kingdom of the supposed heaven.

The sun smiles now.

The moon is gentle.

Thunder is soft.

Lightening is spectacular.

Flowers bloom on the forgotten battlefield-

red, blue and a rainbow of colored petals with a jade green grass background,

covering up the previous horrors brilliantly,

just as a bright smile does.

Yet, the child soldier,  now turned adult holds the eyes of a warrior and the grim smile

of one who’s soul was snatched away

by the Gods of this demented warfare.

Blood

Nothing has changed.

Knives tore flesh apart.

Knives were stained with blood.

Knives tore us apart.

Today the same knife is a bullet,

shot from a gun-

one trigger, one finger, one thought.

“blood lust, blood gore, blood sabotage

what more do you want?

blood enemies, pick up the knife,

shoot the bullet. end the universe tonight,”

At one point, this was the language of adults.

Today, this is the dialect of childhood.

Oscar Wilde once said,

“Every man must kill the thing he loves,”

Nothing has changed.

Shoot the bullet.

End the universe tonight.

Follow the light.

Don’t bother putting up a fight.

After all, you did know-

Satan is always right.

Shark Tale.

The sea is vast.

Blue, green, silver- water.

It is the realm of water, where fins, tails and

gills are predominant;

where the human limb and lung is nothing but

an inconvenience.

It is the food for the carnivorous fishes-

seasoned with seaweed an sea salt,

served cold and raw- catering perfectly to their tastes.

You can swim with them, with your heavy black

scuba gear but the moment you try to hunt them,

recall your child being snatched away and its heart being pierced

in front of your eyes.

co-exist. or do not exist.

Addiction.

Smoke curled from the ends of your lit ciggarette.

Alcohol stained the air-

Vodka, Rum, Tequila-

who knows? who cares?

The nights are blurred.

The days are dazed.

faces forgotten, words ignored.

Time lost.

Anger to ecstasy-

emotions heightened. An emotional roller-coaster.

Stop, but don’t.

Reality’s overrated.

Let’s start a new trend.

Confusion is the anthem of the youth;

the dominant trait of my chameleon soul.

Dreams abandoned.

Thoughts forgotten.

Aspirations stolen.

Music drowned the words.

Leave, but stay.

Stop, but stay.

Its a paradox.

Death is my remedy.

Blood is my addiction.

Confusion  is my permanent state of mind.

Repulsion are my thoughts.

Cruelty is my nature.

Redemption is false.

Peace is an illusion.

Indifference is my pathway.

Stop, but don’t.

Its a paradox.

Let’s start a new trend.

Moving On

Inspired by ‘Wetsuit‘ by the Vaccines at 12 am.

Sunrise. Sunset.

Dawn. Dusk.

The clock ticks, seconds fly-

Like the birds whose wings rule the vast sky?

Each feather gliding down carelessly,

Like the white cotton clouds that glide across the sky.

What is the horizon?

The point where the earth and sky meet.

It’s an explosion of colors-

A thousand shades converging at one single point.

It looks so close but the moment you begin to reach for it,

All your fingers grab are the invisible strands of the winds,

Gentle and calm- they’re in a good mood today.

The horizon escapes, playing a game of hide and seek,

Just as you played with your siblings and your friends as a child.

Sunrise. Sunset.

Dawn. Dusk.

The clock ticks and seconds fly,

Lying on the grass,

Idle and free,

Watching the days glide by.