bon bon

I'm as scared of philosophy as I am of chazzmatazz.

Too many under read and unread and so much more to shelf. This truant is a bible reader and now scared of not being able to hear the gospel.

the painter.

I'm lying in a mirage and its not always an oasis. Sometimes its busy paints on nimble fingers.Thrifty strokes and a menacing temper. I want to tear the f****** canvas till it bleeds by my fingers.

poker

I'm distributing alphabets and the sun is never up.

The moon is lying in a crescent as the sky is a cave.

Resonance is blissful and I'm the joker.

Princess purple stains

Your throne is in shambles
mighty pedestal drowning
in bleeding rainbows
and racing heartbeat

Did you who made her
hair flowing and big eyes
make the monster
who ripped paradise?

I don’t ask you for much
not justice or truth.
just some patience
and a gentle hand.

How will she ever  walk again?
head held high,
Little princess purple stains

As we sow, so shall we reap?
Is this the full circle, now complete?

Laughter is drowning
in the darkness of the night
there’s nothing in my heart
just frothing spite.

Dear god, why? I’ve asked you this a millionen times.
Why won’t you just retire and leave them in plight.
Is this your world? This disgusting air is far too difficult to breathe.
Your complacency is a sham that will be sung about. You look on.

Her tears will dry soon and everyone will forget. While she will live. Everyday. This haunting death.

If you are listening. Rip his heart out. Make him bleed. Don’t let him die.

_____________________________________________________________

I have always felt strongly about this issue since the very inception of my blog. Its something that I think no one should ever have to face.

Its something I've had an inlikng about and I prayed that it should'nt repeat. But well, utopia is a mirage.

Written on 20-4-13

I couldn't concentrate on my papers.

a million roses martyred

I heard last that you were growing old.
I didn’t know you as well as I’d have liked to.

But I wish your passage to the beyond
is laced with the scent of a million roses martyred
And that your tired breath is finally dispersed into the firmament

As you meet our maker
may he anoint your rosy cheeks
with the grace of angels
and may his light shine upon
everyone that loved you dearly

May every tear shed for you
be a rainfall that quenches droughts.

I’d like to sing at your funeral
because all I have is broken thoughts
and unsaid words.
Don’t we all?

Your presence was the breath in his being
And as you meet your favorite brother
somewhere in the realms of the sky
remember to find us gazing
at the starry midnight sky

Searching for a radiant star
we will reminisce of your smile
and your exemplary life
will be passed on through generations
just like the stories you told your grandchildren
on rainy days and the smell of coffee will linger on.

Let the scent of roses remind us of all that you lived for.

_______________________________________________________________

I'm writing after a year. Phew. I thought I had forgotten.

This is for my gran's sister. He loved her.