The Rising Dead
The ashes of the rising dead
Never seem to sway
From the wind that clears all the trace
Of the cynical and the dispondent.
Coz the rising dead isn’t a waste
It’s the ramification of the rampant taste
No doubt it was more than just a residue
Yet it trashed all its virtues
To show the ignoring and the one who
Showed it the living death
That it never deserved to pursue
It now had no bounds
From the world that ironically
So creepy that sounds
It now had a new recognition of own
Which the people once sealed
But now none can behead it
Coz it was like a dragon in the tomb
You too remember you died fella
None can knock you down to your legs
Until you allow them to
Coz the graveyard’s just place
Of your beloved one’s graves
The one that broke your heart
Was now buried away
You have no one to live for and no one to die
Coz for you to love someone
It may take a seven night’s birth
So get up for yourself
And for the ones not in the grave
Coz NOW you are captain of your soul
And the master of your fate, mate.
#review #DB #poetry
The ashes of the rising dead
Never seem to sway
From the wind that clears all the trace
Of the cynical and the dispondent.
Coz the rising dead isn’t a waste
It’s the ramification of the rampant taste
No doubt it was more than just a residue
Yet it trashed all its virtues
To show the ignoring and the one who
Showed it the living death
That it never deserved to pursue
It now had no bounds
From the world that ironically
So creepy that sounds
It now had a new recognition of own
Which the people once sealed
But now none can behead it
Coz it was like a dragon in the tomb
You too remember you died fella
None can knock you down to your legs
Until you allow them to
Coz the graveyard’s just place
Of your beloved one’s graves
The one that broke your heart
Was now buried away
You have no one to live for and no one to die
Coz for you to love someone
It may take a seven night’s birth
So get up for yourself
And for the ones not in the grave
Coz NOW you are captain of your soul
And the master of your fate, mate.
#review #DB #poetry
The Man In The Corner:
Happy looks the man
Who is scarred inside
But all he is doing is recall
Of the non-annihilated thoughts of his mind;
What you know is he smiles
What you don’t that he cries
Nonetheless he strives
To regain the happy smile;
Fails to hide his face
In front of the crying mirror
But walks towards the light
With mind full of fear and terror;
Look carefully towards the corner of the room
You’ll see a man with some liquor consumed
Is crying for his fate and the love he lost
Searching for a mistake
For which all this cost;
I wonder how his tears and sorrows
Wash his cheerful looks away
And from earth none can borrow
A lovely pilgrim for a day;
Lonely is the man
And deserted is his shoulder
With no one to breathe for and no one to live
His emotions have now turned colder;
Tears befit his lonely hours
Tears of sorrow may now fall
With no amigos to call
Nor parents to struggle-to-live for;
Now he is dead inside
With ashes that wit hide
He loves the sound of silence worthwhile
But never forgets to smile.
#review #DB #poetry
Happy looks the man
Who is scarred inside
But all he is doing is recall
Of the non-annihilated thoughts of his mind;
What you know is he smiles
What you don’t that he cries
Nonetheless he strives
To regain the happy smile;
Fails to hide his face
In front of the crying mirror
But walks towards the light
With mind full of fear and terror;
Look carefully towards the corner of the room
You’ll see a man with some liquor consumed
Is crying for his fate and the love he lost
Searching for a mistake
For which all this cost;
I wonder how his tears and sorrows
Wash his cheerful looks away
And from earth none can borrow
A lovely pilgrim for a day;
Lonely is the man
And deserted is his shoulder
With no one to breathe for and no one to live
His emotions have now turned colder;
Tears befit his lonely hours
Tears of sorrow may now fall
With no amigos to call
Nor parents to struggle-to-live for;
Now he is dead inside
With ashes that wit hide
He loves the sound of silence worthwhile
But never forgets to smile.
#review #DB #poetry
BRUISED
For if I told you that I love you
Anywhere but in my poetry
Coz I know my pen
Would Slip Away
And It would too
Give you the power to walk away
But no my dear
So for now I will write
For not manifesting my love
And never for denying it
I write implicit poetry
Words inside me that I burry
For I have mastered the art of concealing
Through experience, the techniques of disguising
Optical illusion overlaid on a lucid painting
The sourness in my eye
Veiled within a mimic smile
Lips dyed in radiant color so they occur
But a dull abstract as u look closer
I trusted once revealing my secret
But I ended up being its captive
A mistake unlocked a new aspect
And with silence I became adaptive
A weightless body floating between time & space
A glitch in a cosmos no gravity in my case
Murky blood from a ruptured spleen
A conversation in the dark with the monsters I’ve seen
Haunted by the spoken but never meant
A feign genesis from which I lack Kent
Devils resembling a facsimile saint
Words with their actions they never acquaint
Took a lesson from the repeated voice
To be stuck or to evolve is my choice
Fading in the past or living in the present
Cherishing the mistakes or frowning at the moment
So here am writing
With all I got embracing
Inscribing my pain with the ink from my heart
Palms bruised so I won’t fall apart
To the scheme of world to the pit of lie
I might be here but your deceits I won’t buy
So to infect me with your diseases
Please don’t try
Over losing this attitude
I would rather choose to die
As an authentic bruised version of me
Without a single manipulation there is to be
So for now again
I’ll let my fountain pen drain
And spill its blood out
On this half wrenched paper
And scribble the words for no doubt
And create an art ‘till the burning piece taper
And pierce my heart
And ache my head till its bursts
And till my lung stifle
And my hands go weak
And my eyes drench
And my ears bleed
And my nose drop
And my paper withers…
I will then drown out the wrapped
Into the ashbin
Until it soaks all the scrap
And then ask for something
That’s long gone into the dark iniquity
But lasts in my soul till the eternity.
#review #DB #poetry
For if I told you that I love you
Anywhere but in my poetry
Coz I know my pen
Would Slip Away
And It would too
Give you the power to walk away
But no my dear
So for now I will write
For not manifesting my love
And never for denying it
I write implicit poetry
Words inside me that I burry
For I have mastered the art of concealing
Through experience, the techniques of disguising
Optical illusion overlaid on a lucid painting
The sourness in my eye
Veiled within a mimic smile
Lips dyed in radiant color so they occur
But a dull abstract as u look closer
I trusted once revealing my secret
But I ended up being its captive
A mistake unlocked a new aspect
And with silence I became adaptive
A weightless body floating between time & space
A glitch in a cosmos no gravity in my case
Murky blood from a ruptured spleen
A conversation in the dark with the monsters I’ve seen
Haunted by the spoken but never meant
A feign genesis from which I lack Kent
Devils resembling a facsimile saint
Words with their actions they never acquaint
Took a lesson from the repeated voice
To be stuck or to evolve is my choice
Fading in the past or living in the present
Cherishing the mistakes or frowning at the moment
So here am writing
With all I got embracing
Inscribing my pain with the ink from my heart
Palms bruised so I won’t fall apart
To the scheme of world to the pit of lie
I might be here but your deceits I won’t buy
So to infect me with your diseases
Please don’t try
Over losing this attitude
I would rather choose to die
As an authentic bruised version of me
Without a single manipulation there is to be
So for now again
I’ll let my fountain pen drain
And spill its blood out
On this half wrenched paper
And scribble the words for no doubt
And create an art ‘till the burning piece taper
And pierce my heart
And ache my head till its bursts
And till my lung stifle
And my hands go weak
And my eyes drench
And my ears bleed
And my nose drop
And my paper withers…
I will then drown out the wrapped
Into the ashbin
Until it soaks all the scrap
And then ask for something
That’s long gone into the dark iniquity
But lasts in my soul till the eternity.
#review #DB #poetry