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‘Turn swords into ploughshares and nightmares to dreams’ I have not one plough and no shares in the market Insomnia has taken over my nights the rest is illusion Ambitions are exhausted and hope has no yearning Freedom dangles on the rope of puppet-less strings Vacuum reflects an echo of silent ear bursting rasping Dissonance oozes from cacophony’s apathetic rattle The heavy clanger of other’s fraudulent forge melts disowned blood Into ice in my veins as a purulent mind oozes vile battles' cries Muted by trench feet scraping bottomless mind-fields and apathy ‘Pull yourself out of catatonia’s core-less pits’ But there is no kernel of truth and fruits of desire have rotted To the acrid stench of a Self carefully lost on broken branches Snapped composure looms over a well-trodden treacherous path Carved into an involuntary hermit’s cave by a cliff edged road side It is grave in the cavern in which vacant vagrants jumble their bones Disconnect their last possession and wilfully trade skulls and bones ‘This too shall pass and so many others have been stuck in the rot’ And yet suffocation in some muddy sludge is sinking Slowly and excruciatingly tempting to join forces of evil A dark rusty anchor floats high on the unreachable ceiling Time I have endless measures of but the world is upside down I am out of the picture that has faded memories for the future Dislodged and dismembered I am a powerful union of nothing ‘Change your perspective and find solace where it is hidden’ So he who is I from the distance finally lets go of unwarranted grip Descends as far from the surface as possible beyond expectations And finds footing of the shackles where the ploughshare should be The spikes pierce my soles and my soul ostensibly drowned in sorrow At least there is pain and some place in between scars to feel emotions That tentatively nurture rescue apparently beyond impossible salvation ‘Your advice seemed hollow but there is some loving space left inside my shell’ 29th November 2019
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