Cul de Sac...

They hear the hand-grenades hurled at midnight's wake,

The dawn sees the refugees trudge through the snow. 

The echoes of machine guns ringing in their ears,

Their hearts deaf to their own beating.

Tanks force their way into their quaint villages,

Air strikes swarm their vulnerable skies.

As the adults struggle for dominance,

Barbed wire incarcerates the innocence of their children.

Bitter politics consumes common man's future,

Greed thrives on their apathy and comatose morality.

Double standards claw their way into fragile souls,

As humanity  reeks of the corrupt.

The path is frittered with blind alleys.

I keep wandering into a Cul de Sac,

At each step, whether I choose or not;

Turning a warrior into a mercenary.

Each moment I realize, my honor lies incapacitated,

My conscience auctioned to the highest bidder,

My allegiance prostituted to the hunger of the vile

Peace and Sleep silenced forever.

Russian Roulette

Close your eyes and Pull the trigger,

Bet your soul, albeit for the last time.

Sometimes prayer soothes the fraying nerve,

In this Godless Gamble.

Press the glock to your temple.

Does fear cloud your faculties ? 

Or does Adrenaline whet it ?

It's just one Bullet.

Do chills run up your soft spine ?

Do I see tears roll down your cheeks,

Is that a mild whimper I hear,

As you clench your teeth.

Honey, this won't take long

A deafening crack and blinding light.

Just momentary pain,

Nothing like what you inflicted on me.

My turn disappointed me,

All I could hear was hollow click.

The empty chamber echoing,

Of Blinding vengeance.

Tonight we play,

With odds on my side.

Nothing for me to lose

But your world crumbling.

Euthanasia

                                                                      

Ravaged in my memory's wake,

I have long suffered.

Strapped to a four-poster.

Eyes and ears wide shut.

Broken images of life,

Flash before my unfazed eyes.

My body lies still.

Unperturbed and Unstirred.

Voices of unknown origin,

Whisper in my ears,

In tongues long forgotten

Of faith and skepticism.

For long and cold nights,

I have dreamed of a blue moth.

It fluttered free- aimlessly

Through  a seamless void.

I have prayed silently,

Without an utterance.

Longing for a cold embrace, 

To greet my Passage.

  

Inferno

The Flames crackle as they rise up,

Perhaps for the last time ,

From the dying embers of  Life

An Orange glow casts long shadows.

The Skin burns softly,

But Wraiths don't feel pain.

Nor do they  have a conscience.

Their life  forged by the reaper's  curse.

Memory a tattered cloth,

Fragments visiting and revisiting.

Filling my insides with revulsion,

Tales of Lies and Deception.

Time no longer heals the wounds

The bruises continue to bleed.

But there no pain

Neuroticism has long since replaced ache.

A long path  forward remains,

With clenched fists he resists

Confusion meddling with his soul,

Right and wrong's lost all meaning.

Chorus:

Burn,

Until nought remains.

Burn.

Until the all the vitriol is gone.

Burn.

Until winter ends.

Burn.

Like an Inferno. 

Rorshcach

Accused of stealing the breath of the fresh air,

I work stealthily in the mighty Puppeteer's absence.

I pull the strings with my dexterous fingers,

Trying to tinker with the mind's clockwork.

Tying the world to my subtle perceptions,

I exhume the Marionettes' buried remains,

And use them to paint a new portrait

Of the masquerade I conspire to create.

Concealed in the languid penumbra,

I walk away from the light.

The bright iridescence from the flame;

Blinds my gray eyes - laden with murkiness.

The world spins around in dizzy blur,

I fail to recognize the passing faces.

The storyboard of life is written,

And yet rewritten again.

A broken soul slowly pieces together,

It's utterly garbled psyche.

A repressed love makes subtle appearances,

Only to be unceremoniously stifled by assassin's creed.

The torsion between the mind and heart,

Has ripped apart the soul;

Murder and vengeance came hand in hand,

Judgement became the obtuse fool.

Tear off me this blighted mask,

Purge from my sanity,this cursed miasma

Deafen me to drown the noise of this vile epiphany,

For join I never shall, this blasphemous masquerade.

Wakeful Reverie

The shifting sands prolong the hours,

Of silent poignant thought,

The visions of a pale sky blur,

Cris-crossed by flooding sunlight.

My instruments are no longer of any use.

Strings have long rusted.

I hear morning's retreating footsteps,

The windows to my room, still shut.

The bird has left it's secure nest ,

A flight into uncharted horizon.

A solitary butterfly struggles to get free,

Out of the dusk, it's cocoon.

The lissome drops of cold rain ,

Fog my crystalline window pane.

Whilst the war of thunder rages on,

As swords of lightning clash against it's shield.

Some Kind of Monster

Suspended in Time

Those moments lie

For She never returned

Leaving me to fade away in bleak midwinter.

Still waiting,

Wishing I was dead

Desperate to forget

Unable to focus on what lay ahead.

Breathing in vacuum

Struggling to exist,

Memories tormenting my sanity ,

Making me clench my fist.

Emotions are numb

Insides sore,

I knew the hour had come

I couldn't take it anymore.

My transformation had begun.

I could no longer carry dead weight,

In the wake of suffocation

My Allegiances had shifted.

During this forsaken hour,

I built my armor.

Forged in the fires of rage

Empowered by anathema.

My only objective faces me,

To tell her...

Should I ever meet her again,

"Come witness thy creation"

"Behold in front of you it stands. "

A Wraith perhaps- a pallid specter

A potent variant of

'Some Kind of Monster'