Long Merciless Poems
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Smashed great structures blazing ,smoking,
And trembling, hot blocks lie about all around;
Hues, cries and groans fill in with the air rising
To merciless heights far above ; yet the sound
Reaches not the intended distant deaf border
Every new morn is just the same- -uncertain, vile,
Chaotic and full of bloody tears driving toward
Strange crash ,while the most dead spirit is guile;
The body continues to feel, the benumbed, hard
Senses refusing to settle down or yield to order
The victuals, bread and the twisted needs rife,
Lying on the ground, just beside the broken doll,
Speak of the tragic story of an ironic end of life!
Why smite ,kill and for what gain is such brawl?
The boundless bounty of Nature is put to plunder
Death and destruction as in a rare painted horror
Or a nightmare on a tensely disturbed,tired night;
Endless anxiety and abysmal ,deep agony, sorer
Than any malady eclipsing survival with might!
Ages pass yet Man still cherishes life asunder !
From the Decalogue to the loud statuting frame
Ethical and humane rights in words sound high
And aye claim the voice of love in every endgame;
Win or lose, one must not leave the other to cry
Sans sympathy,the aim of life is after all a blunder.
Tansy Roekaerts
12:35 AM (12 hours ago)
Mirage
With eyes as parched as the desert I travel,
I thirst for my loss, yet do not unravel.
The sun it scorches with merciless rays,
Though heart not skin it brutally flays.
My life before me: a vast expanse,
Empty and scorched infernal sands.
Traveller dropped in foreign terrain,
Totally wrecked, blindsided by pain.
‘Not all is lost’, swears false apostle,
So now I believe, for relief so colossal
Gleams right ahead in sparkling silver,
Joy so intense, my tears form a river:
Our faces awash, in joy so sublime,
I feel such hope, imagining what's mine
Returning to me. That long cool sip
Shimmers ahead, into relief I'll dip
A desire so great. I count the days,
Striving to reach that scintillating haze,
So full of promise, till deceived I fall -
Nature lies too. Still their names I call.
Sunlight seared gold across cold tiles,
her mother’s hands moulding tender skin.
Cheeks pressed to air, she ruled with wiles,
blind to the tide that pulled her within.
Her father’s pride beneath the boards lay deep,
a silent swell, austere, deliberate.
I see her still, the child who could not keep
her innocence from the world’s weighty state.
She ran with him—a coin, a whispered trade,
sunlight congealed in a shadowed veil.
Her pulse became a ledger, each hope weighed,
each warmth exacted, each fragile detail.
Iron hummed beneath her feathered wings,
like merciless strings, the bars pressed down.
Hands—greedy, precise, exact—claimed all things,
erasing her ledger, her delicate renown.
The rope coiled soft, intimate, oppressive near,
pressing secrets into skin she could barely hear.
Her palm touched the bars, half trembling, half brave,
half in fragile hope, half sensing the grave.
A hollow bell clicked, echoing slow,
matching the pulse she could not let go.
A laugh drifted—tiny, absurd, slight—
crumbs of joy in a caged bird’s faint light.
She fluttered, recalling mornings unconfined,
bread and honey, innocence revered.
Ink smudged across her trembling mind,
thoughts folded quietly, silently steered.
Repentance coiled tight, sheets worn by nights,
Sometimes she wished to unmake herself.
Yet some pulse endured, a whisper of lights,
existence persisted, quietly itself.
A breath, a glance, a pulse enumerated twice,
moments of being cruel yet precise.
She smiled faintly, defiant, exiled,
gesture small, impossibly concise.
Wings bound, body claimed, heart betrayed,
yet she moved, unbroken, unafraid.
Even here, carved in air, her truth persists,
precise, unclaimed, in shadowed twists.
Life insists in tiny, unclaimed motions,
in fluttering wings, in whispered devotions.
And I—entangled, witness to her vertiginous plight—
behold the child, the ledger, the caged bird’s quiet blight.
Not emancipated, nor entire, yet awake,
and in that delicate exigence,
all phenomena suspend
in hushed, unpossessed potentiality,
suspended,
perhaps,
to be fathomed—
and should we linger in this scrutiny,
we cannot avert our gaze.
Tides of Life
Thoughts of my heart flowed out as tears,
The future ahead holds lots of fears.
As I alone walked down that memory lane,
I felt nothing but heartache all over again.
Once the days had been so joyful and carefree,
Those days when we were two; then became three.
How much hope and expectations had we,
What our bundle of joy would grow up to be!
Alas! As we dreamt of one thing, we realized another,
For Cruel Fate would not let us be together.
Entangled in the web of the dreams we weaved,
Happy days were few and short lived.
Had it not been for that dark and fateful night,
Such would surely not have been our plight,
This realization fell over me before day,
Oh God, what are we but statues of clay!
How your absence filled my life with emptiness!
Bereaved of all joy and full of loneliness.
The merciless turns of the tides of life,
Made it hardly possible for one to survive.
It was then that I looked into the eyes of innocence
Of one who cared and shared my grievance.
“Don’t leave me too,” they seemed to plead.
Shedding my cloak of sorrow, I embraced him instead.
With his affectionate love he kept me bound.
The last straw in the stormy sea I had found.
My young child taught me how to live over again,
And smile through Life’s inflicted suffering and pain.
The calamities of the past now being long over,
These queries of my mind still remain unclear.
Will Happiness ever think of rejoining me?
Will I ever from those memories be set free?
By: Jaishree Ghariwala Doshi
Personas have limits, boundaries veiled by the thin masquerade of pretense
They whisper promises of identity, yet crack under pressure of reality's weight—poet
She puts on her face while vaping smoke surrounds,
Carefully paints fishtail eyes , studs, and crimson lips,
satin scarfs around hug her hips
Bindi adorned when with the Janes
A sterling nose ring pierces a membrane
Azure pools of light inserted—contact’s atop
wistful deeper dark reddish brown longing lens
Riffles through a cosmetic bag,
Faberge`a final touch then off she struts
Spinning the roulette wheel in random realms
Burned through one persona after another
The mask worn smothers
Charcoal tears pour down her cherry cheeks
Personas have their limitations
Reinventions only break the tiresome tensions
Infinite shades of pale, anemic, listless
Darker are the shadows that deem
Her skin is frail, weakness fills a ship and torn it’s sail
Though her wit retains its cutting edge
out on the ledge an empty soul on trial
Tragic trends suit her
Charcoal tears won’t save her
Metamorphosis’s demise, elusive unmasked
Limited are the bounds of weakness,
Marie-Thérès Picasso’s golden muse
hung herself after his death
Now a frozen memory in the dark daze
as nothing else remains its love’s myth
She played the games we may or not resist
Gone those days frozen in merciless mist
where fate awaits
Cruelty is the first name,
Diabolism is the surname,
Forced me to lose my strength as a woman,
As tears drops from my eyes,joy filled wicked heart,
They whispered to me,
"it's a custom,and you need to get yourself in",
Detestable should it be called,
Rather they put on a coat to serve that carnal god,
Destroying the virtue of womanhood,
Deep behind the mind,they snub the result,
Merciless is that native mood,
Pertained with arrogance and autocracy,
The mind of the society is crooked,
No one is ready to abide to civilized chronicle,
I'm no more stitched to what is of God's will,
Talking about sex,
Call me a wood,since I'm preyed by dirt,
No man get satisfied by me,
...rather chastise of my best,
Though,it wasn't my choice,
Disgrace and shame is now signed,
A mother without love,
Wife without empathy,
Psychologically,I can't stay as creepy,
Emotionally,frustration grabs my nerves,
Millions spent,no solution,
"What should I do?",I question myself,
It seems I'm raptured into Hades,
If I should mess myself in a nightmare,
Admission won't be granted for a ******** to get there,
I'm steadfast not for men.
On the white altar of dreams, I twist, a butterfly caught in time's amber,
The hourglass of eternity pours its sand over my inert body.
The mirror of the sky leans over, a cosmic eye scrutinizing my essence.
On my skin, runes dance, tattoos of destiny engraved by gods,
I try to read them, but I'm blind to the astral alphabet.
Their meaning melts like incense smoke in the temple of consciousness.
A divine lightning pierces the veil of reality, a probe of divine light,
I struggle in the net of existence, my soul - a silver fish in the ocean of infinity.
Sacred blindness tears me from my bodily shell, I become pure ether.
Memories awaken, iridescent serpents hissing in my troubled mind,
I fall into the abyss of awakening, a chasm between the material and spiritual world.
Am I chosen by astral entities or reborn on the sacred table of transformation?
Exposed as a living offering on the altar of the merciless universe,
Fear crystallizes my essence into jewels of pure anguish.
Then, from the depths, the sacred spring of words gushes forth.
Poetry becomes my magical cloak, a shield against primordial chaos,
My enchanted wand weaves realities from threads of falling stars.
I am a magician of the verb, an alchemist transmuting suffering into lyrical gold.
Since then, I write ceaselessly, spells weaving the fabric of reality,
Each verse - a prayer that heals the wounds of the cosmic soul.
Poetry is my initiatory path, a road to enlightenment in the labyrinth of existence.
She was the incandescence in my soul,
the fire in my eyes
and the warmth in my heart.
I could feel her in the gentle breeze
caressing my cheek.
She was the happiness pouring down upon me
as I stood out in the rain.
We stood, together;
I her rock and she my muse.
One hell of a pair.
She became all that mattered,
all there ever was and would ever be,
more than I could imagine could actually exist.
My purpose showed in her smile,
her joy my goal and reward;
her life shared, a blessing beyond
even the poets' ability to convey.
We stood, together;
I her devoted and she my love.
A love to outshine the very stars.
Then she disappeared, ran from me,
swept away by the winds of time,
cruel and merciless as they ripped out my life.
Now the fire's burned out, my heart withers, cold;
the memories of happiness
only bruise and lacerate,
and now I don't always stand, out in that rain;
the tears fall down, hidden in the falling water,
as I walk in escape, or kneel in failure.
We stand, apart;
She, yet my love, and I her . .
nothing.
A love to make all the sky weep.
I shiver as an abandoned puppy
outside in the winter's harsh cold...
I'm locked out regardless of reason;
I'm locked out weakened and beaten,
and merciless as you are, show a glance of pity:
no amount of tears can put out this flame of old!
I'm locked out of everything,
there's no joy to go on living;
you took hope and happiness,
I'm dying in this loneliness!
I'm locked out of everything,
my day is night no sun shines;
I ignored the warning signs,
all the cheating that led to lies!
You slammed the door on me,
and destroyed what I held dear,
should lightening strike me, it will trigger more fear;
I'll seek shelter from every storm that can harm me...
I'll seek refuge in someone who has feelings of mercy:
making amends is humbleness and endless sincerity!
I'm locked out of everything, I'm at loss for words,
nights are cold under these sheets that smell of kisses;
mornings aren't very bright if I miss your breath on mine,
you held me to your breast, never wanting to wake up on time!
on merciless concrete
there's a body
don't clean up this blood
shot in the face
and run over as an inssurance
he'll never again put the blue ski mask on
don't clean up this blood
camouflaging a direct shot as ricocheted
did it even came to mind
was he still alive
when those tires
crossed over
don't clean up this blood
he was someone's son
do you have sons
what does the conscience say
does it claim a father
does that father merit someone calls him father
do your sons know
what you just did
don't clean up this blood
who are you behind that shields
who are you behind that badges
who are you behind that spokesman
who's pressing that switch to inhuman
don't clean up this blood
how does it feel when those who you pledged to protect are scared of you
does it make you feel like gods
or obedient dogs
outraged dogs
trying to silent the oppressed
who throws at you those bones from the top of Olympus
don't clean up this blood
just don't
freedom answers to the name of blood
*In memory of Carlo Giuliani (14 March 1978 - 20 July 2001)