Short Spitted Poems

Under the rug it goes
So nobody else will know

Under the rug it goes
Safe, beneath trodding toes

Under the rug is safe
For an unspoken mistake

Under the rug there’s pain
And spitted, rotten, distain

Under the rug where secrets travel 
The fibers insure, nothing unravels...

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Ollie onion had never been this mad in his life
He turned all his anger on the kitchen knife
How dare you try to peel me, you interloper, he said.
The knife was embarrassed, his face turned red.

I did not know that you were alive, he admitted.
No one told me this, I am confused, he spitted.
Ollie was not in the forgiving mood at all.
He sent that knife packing, down the hall....

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have gone through 
Many murders
Throughout my life
Cold-blooded,
Savage and heart-wrenching.
Heart lost it's zeal
But the one that 
Made me to 
Live in a mausoleum 
Without getting died
Is thy love
Dagger of ur 
Love pierced my flesh
Ate my ligaments
And spitted the remnants
Like a devouring wolf
Don't murder me with 
Thy love...
Coz,i have already lost
The chime of my voice
When u losed the key
To open my heart...

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Give me back my innocence,
I wasted in the journey
When blood trickled down my last breath,
Inquisitively, I have been asked..are you dead?

So that’s why they call me devil as I die last..
I never cried tears; it was the toxins that came out.
I never exhaled air it was the repentance of my soul…still cursed, still starved.
Condemned by my miseries, I still live
Spitted upon by my own sweat……
Yes! I still live in me,
Cause the devil dies last....

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