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Poem


When the enchanted 
jailors of life, 
siezed my soul 
and those
sepals unfurling
manipulative
manuscripts 
ceased to 
script a twinkle 
above screams, 
I became a 
slave to my 
own silence, 
chained by 
granite wings of 
masked butterflies, 
who have been 
bewitched by 
the first rays of the
maleficent moon. 

Kneeling as 
an effigy of 
failure, in front
of the Dark Emperor, 
I never realised
that those
depressive 
tunes of the
broken piano 
have carved 
a caged victim 
within me~ 
and perhaps, 
the chord of 
crimson chronicles 
was cut too soon. 

Chastised by a
lonesome vista, 
I've arched myself, 
along those
lunar ruins
of misty melancholy. 
But, in the
cavernous caves, 
this heart of lead, 
bearing guns, 
has searched for 
its essence and 
reminisced how
it has always 
been a carnival 
of acrylic lanterns, 
wherein flamingo 
flames flicker, 
scented with 
peony lifelines. 

Muted by an 
ivory irony, 
when karma 
crowned me 
as a renowned
culprit of my own 
desperate
desolation, 
I've realised
how the sun was 
sabotaged within 
my hazy pulsations~ 
for, somewhere, 
I chained 
the harbinger 
of my own 
egyptian dawn, 
with eagle rays
of ravenous reigns. 

Perhaps, one day, 
the tryst of 
torment shall 
be broken,
as the destiny
will bleed 
in a revolution
of truths,
midst rising of a 
'Marionette of miracles'
singing in her
spiritual awakening, 
and swinging
upon ruby ribbons
of a magnificent mantra,
echoing ~
      "Dear Lord, bestow mercy in misery, 
                  purity in plight,
    love in lachrymose tears, 
         and hope in hateful sighs... "

As I'll float on colourless pages,
    like the last drop of divine ink,
  nevermore, clinging to grief
   and stifling the spirit,
    rather, enlivening the silence
  that shall adhere feathers of liberty,
   to my winged heartbeats.

'Timeless Trinity'
breathes in me,
harnessing healing
through textures
of poetry,
encompassing
myriad secrets,
as I search
for my sunrise
within icy halos
of the third eye.
For, seeds of
rage can never
reep rainbows
amidst a
watercolor halcyon
of fleeting faith.

  "Tie my soul to a kite and
   stare me soar
  across the skies,
      as I kiss that fiery orange star,
   spreading honeysuckle furs
  upon lavish lawns,
       'Oh, but don't
          break the string
      too soon - darling, breeze!'
   And there, I float like
      the last fickle leaf
     lost in a soothing lull,
      where lethal lilacs
   no longer mourn in the
  misery of murdered mirth..."
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