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Jeevan Jan 2018
Journey with me to the void, I hear the stories all end there.
Anchor chains we can destroy, but neither can they be repaired.
Claim to know how fable goes, disregarding certainty.
Likened to the sound of prose, anchored with all courtesy.
Yearn to know within and out, mooring's meaning in the end.
Now it's known without a doubt, they are all that you intend.
Come with me.
Jeevan Jan 2018
I hear your notes of solid green.
Purple hues which writhe and teem,
on currents held within your ears.
No finite laughter, or subtle tears.

Strings quiver from your every touch.
Fingers dance in measured time.
Silently, both embraced and clutched.
Enticed with trances so divine.

Azure tints spit from the wood.
Taking stock of where we stood.
Speaking of love, lost then found.
Unaware of its resound.
I hear the tales of gloom and woe.
It's infectious touch.
With venom it's sowed .

I fear the end as tempo ebbs.
Advising sounds to take their place.
But softly you contort and blend.
Never losing tempo's pace.
I always like to know what you think
Jeevan Jan 2018
Members of the board, I urge for your discretion.
The issue we accord, is key to our ascension.
Look closely at the chart, the numbers which decree,
Inflation on the market, the rise of destiny.

You are all here today,
because we must make a decision.
We... thought they would obey,
under the proper supervision.
But now we must evacuate,
this city is now gone.
Little people acuminate,
The monsters still press on.
Look outside this glass, to the ants below.
You see the power, the hunger, the pain,
the pure are devoured, so we obtain,
an army of gods, which forever grows,
and in our grasp, shall the controls we hold.

With this power shall we ever reap,
a generation of our own,
our presence will cause the world to weep,
our new future will soon be sown.
As helicopters descend upon us,
I ask of you again,
With reputation on the line,
our choices looking grim.
Do we end the project,
that rends a city from the limb.
Cause's pain, and evil, with sin.
Should we keep the genome within
This was written about a pop culture subject.
Jeevan Jan 2018
Where smoke and fire scar a scene we've lost to history.
Comrades leave the corpses, those naive to victory.
"But armor does not tire, even hanging onto bone."
Those ragged men recite this creed, when they die alone.

Leaders speak of fate and fear to hopeful crowds of eyes.
"No one makes the tacit choice of death without reprise."
Solace leaves the hearts of those wise enough to know
awful sights, which wait out there, and its audio.
"Can you hear the thunder of a thousand steel boots?
Will you heed the call of gods from armored metal suits?"

Iron plates and sundered fates rest the minds of men.
Even though they never know how it starts again.
Irrelevant as it's all become,
death never breaks with morning's sun.
Below white clouds, hear the tantrum drum,
the stinking sound of melee begun.
This poem is a loop.
Jeevan Jan 2018
Every word's inflection holds a meaning I don't say.
Regardless of intention, or the method it's arrayed.
I try my best to say it, and hold my breath in hesitation.
I know i said it right, but now, I face an allegation.
I try to explain as best one can with lifeless words i weave.
They carry force which you assess, and meaning you conceive.
I Snake the text 'till they possess a meaning I control,
but my expression was impeccable,
on a platform with no soul.
All about how you say it.
Jeevan Nov 2017
This padded snow is seeping in.
My breath is hard and rash.
This girl has made a fool of me,
the fight was just a flash.
A glint of silver is what I see,
I move on intuition.
Perhaps I can get her to agree,
surrender as admonition.
But incendiary eyes,
are what comprise,
her unmitigated fury.
Her weapon whips,
through air and sky,
personifying her jury.
She missteps, and I imply,
gently, with my compound's eye,
the meaning of my words.

Iron chafes the ground of grass.
Her body shifts with fluent ease.
Reverent speed I can't surpass.
Her saber, bringing death's disease.


She contemplates all that I've said.
My eyes are locked on savory skies.
Life and death are on a thread.
Her maxim's pact she can't defy.

My steadied hand can take the risk,
with no regard for identity,
of moving blades, as I am frisked.
Another piece of my weaponry.
Assassins grace will carry through.
Perhaps to be my remedy.
Her hidden blade makes its debut.
Restoring lost integrity.

Silence permeates rotten skies, as snow flakes hit the earth.
My limbs are feeling ragged, my breathing is overt.
Calamity is added, by the blush she can't desert.
I wrote this based on a picture which depicted the end of a brief fight between a human and an elf in a fantasy setting.
Jeevan Oct 2017
“Hello, and welcome to the show.
My name is Captain Sin.”
As Dancers tumble to and fro,
protected by thick skin.
“Release the snare!”, the Captain yells,
gripping a chair, metal strikes bells,
The audience roars with anticipation.
And the tigers temper, is just causation.

But Captain Sin is never through.
Lacking neither whip or mood.
He swings his crop and hits it true,
confidence is what he exudes.
The tiger rears to claw his face,
But Captain Sin just seems displaced,
too quick to see or venerate,
a cause for cheers to celebrate.

Another crack across the skin,
the beast now seems subdued.
Another smack across it's chin,
the monster takes review.

The cage is closed to mournful eyes.
For those who thought of Sin's demise.
And Captain Sin, takes a final bow.
He removes his hat, to cloak his brow.
Sin shades the line of red they missed.
As music plays, the show persists.
Let me know if it reads smoothly.
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