Come the morning, we will shed
The tears of infants, painted red.
Mother's love can save the child
But not the mother from her death.
Soon the child will grow up hated,
then the voices soon abated,
when he finds wickedness in pleasure
And in blood, he finds a laugh
He is lost, they say, abandoned
Bastard child who fathers misfortune
He is crooked in his stature
Out of his jaw leaps a lie
Yet he carries out the sentence
Righteous man endures the torture
Of this world without a Father
Where the love of God shall die
Fear the son, lest he be joyous
In your twisted castrato chorus
Separating joy from voices
So that you can only cry
You will burn and starve and vomit
And your terror will be voiceless
Unless you embrace the hatred
And become as loved as I
ON LOVE VERSUS HATE
There is but one truth.
Its name is love;
It is the foundation of civilisation.
Love fears nothing;
Yet without hate, the heart cannot cope.
Love and hate dies….sometimes
They are both beyond the cycle of the outset and the demise of emotions.
They are powerful and formidable.
Love realises kindness
Hate is the beginning of upheaval;
Both are true in their concept
Through the ages, they were always there!
Tell me, Casanova, how long you’ll pine
On sodden sleeves your heart you’ve worn
Reputation on the line in decline
Sterile standing in society shorn
Of its aura of charm and calm
Reduced to tatters
With no love balm
In sight, your maneuver no longer flatters
As you once boasted it could
At your beck and call
Methinks you’re knocking on wood
Hastening your free fall
From grace as your pedestal
Driven to its knees
Slumps horizontal
With pitiful pleas
For release from the grip
The siren on you
Seems to rip
Anew
Threads of last ditch
Hope on which bits and slits of your heart hang
Primed to switch
Off the clang
In the intensive care unit
In which between Charybdis and Scylla
Where the last throes of your discomfiture knit
In the power Priscilla
Yields to snuff out
In rapid fire
The doubt
On hire that can longer respire
Gives up its ghost
In shame and odium
To a tortuous toast
On your Waterloo podium
Where spectators fed up with your pitiful pleas
Demand the coup de grace
Sleaze
To terminate your winless race to save your face.
The common hate is,
Spiritual suicide:
Love your enemies.
Extending far beyond the darkest night
Passing through deep gullies and narrow holes
Sweetly impairing him from deep within
Cry of a shattered soul echoing miles away
Within a cold glass-room, helpless
Spiraling deep down into despair
Spent days, heartless, locked in blankness
Eyes of a shattered soul feeble with unrest
Once there existed a heaven
And warmth of divine affection
Now surrounded by walls of fear
Frozen mirror appears reflection-less
Pushed off from the highest peak
Landing down heart first
Faster, deeper, as pain grows unremittingly
But there seems to be no end
Raging sky, pouring fire
Rumbling with immense might
The journey is impossible
Every drop burns like those memories created
The door of solitude before his eyes
And that is the only way the road follows
There is no turning back
Every escape has been burnt
So when I stood here and gave you everything
I really never asked for anything, nothing
Yet, you pushed me down the cliff
What is it that I missed?
The Winter Rose has faded and left with nothing but burning scars…
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