Sunday 8 December 2019

Trial and the Judgement






Thrashed her life in that vicious fuscous night
Tattered her body in that mucky verdant site
Shattered her dreams in that bloody wicked plight
Four feigned civilized animals, enjoyed their bite.

They waited their turn to deracinate her
With ears and heart kept fastened for her prayer
With ineffable agony nature tried to cover
Her natural body with leafy little shower.

When tired they spared her for a midget time
And wrapped in a blanket to set a meacock crime
Wetted in fuel they fired the chad as a scheme
And disenthral the soul of the decubitus dame.

Now tell me the judgement of these cruel critters
Hang or guillotine their ugly little heads
Lynching or castration, anything you can propose
Sharpen your quills and the judgement of the case.

I’m Your Spectator

Words emerging from your quill,
Blazing with an effulgence,
Capering and crooning around,
In harmony or in dissonance.

Rhyming in a golden cage,
Flying around in splendid colors,
Or, in a greenish meadow,
Flying away in divine freedom.

The beads of words will last long,
In our minds, if threaded strong
Whether structured or unstructured
As I know, I'm your spectator.