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Arkapravo Sep 8
May sweet slumber come
with you in my embrace,
and at dawn the sun feels
shy to rise.
Arkapravo Aug 18
morning
we woke up
in the mortal world
My first attempt at haiku
Arkapravo Aug 13
I can burn you down,
or scare you with a howl,
I am the wonder of the ages,
say the witches, the wizards and the mages,
Many warrior have had to fight my might,
a valiant attempt to set the scores right,
.
.
.
I love gold, and lust for treasures,
I am invincible, and there is nothing left for a measure,
How dare you compare me to a pterodactyl?
a feeble, birdbrained projectile,
My birth was kindled in a volcano fire,
and once I dance, you will soon be on a burning pyre
.
.
.
Alas! That is all a fad,
My reality is not really too glad,
I am confined to the tales which grandfather told on a rainy day,
and the farmer sang as he cut the fresh dewy hay,
You can also find me in books, movies and computer games,
as an emptiome of 'hard to tame'
.
.
.
I wish there was more to myself,
than just stories of gnomes, goblins, and elves,
I will never spit fire and smoke,
nor will I scare the townsfolk,
Enjoy reading about my feat
be it with popcorn, or from under the bed-sheet
.
.
.
As I wag my tail
only to find my place in another telltale.
Written sometimes in Autumn 2018, last revision in Summer 2019.
Arkapravo Aug 9
A poem weaves lyrics to thoughts,
the fortune that destiny brought,
the wind that the words caught,
... just enough, never a lot !

It is when, the flowers shout out,
... the birds sing aloud,
bees buzz together in a clout,
hooray to the dancing village lout.

Or, if it is the charm of a maiden's eyes,
hold my hand and tell me a lie,
as truth will only make me cry,
give me a promise, till I die.

Or, if it is for a social reason,
an anarchist on revolt season,
a dab of red, a call of treason,
a poets verse can take to prison.

Or, if words seeks the minds-speak,
psyche is for the daring, not the meek,
... a work at hand, not a walk past the creek,
can you read my thoughts at a poet's streak?

Or, if it is for war protest,
in Guy Fawke mask and a black vest,
for the plight of those in peace who rest,
catchy solgans and a chorus to test.

... then there is the drunk babble,
verses on a high, writing for a fable,
realm of the bar's loony rebel,
few moments just too incredible.

Few who talk of life ...
... and the universe, past time's swipe
thoughts never too naive,
a philosopher's table to wipe!

A poem will always try,
to make verses not too dry,
a worth of truth laced with a pinch of lie,
a flutter for the heart to fly.
Arkapravo Aug 6
I flew in the sky, and my mind seemed to leaf through a picture book.

Then the frog croaked, and the bird sang, and I found that the real world is not bad either.
This poem is motivated from the following quote by Philip K. **** - “Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn’t go away.”

Also published at my blog, https://gaffingaround.wordpress.com/2019/07/29/gaffe-91/
Arkapravo Aug 6
I read his books, to cry at night,
If God is dead then show me the light,
Where is the man on the cross,  where is the shining knight ?
... that veiled specter and the streak of light ?
Is nihilism a noose too tight ?
Are we living though our final rites ?
Is this the truth or a noise just too white.

Help me God, but alas he is dead,
We killed him and bathed him blood red,
New century, and many still go unfed,
We still wage wars, are we lacking in staid ?
Amor fati ! but I remain afraid,
Has our senses met with a touch of fade ?
A distant thunder... a storm, a hale, a glade !

Gold, Oil and Drugs - GOD to spell,
... rich to richer, poor to poorer - does it ring a bell ?
Widows cry and mums wail,
Father dies and sons follow in a war to fail,
Cruise and thomahawk don't even tell half the tale,
Our inner selves are shriveled and pale,
Where is our aura ? conscience smells stale.

Markets tumble and the poor man whines,
Leaders make speech, claim things are ''just fine'',
Elephants or donkeys, red or blue - jaded bottle, old wine,
Job dwindle, banks swindle - be it wall street or the south of Tyne,
Or cities on the banks of Rhein,
Long queues, angry mob and a shout of "you swine"
... are we cowards lacking in spine ?

If recurrence is the universes' game,
Are we zombies, or just too lame,
So much we do, in an effort to maim,
What we seek is money, power and fame,
Stare into the mirror, isn't our soul the same ?
... and we all have is an ego to tame,
Love and compassion, that is all to our name.

Good and bad, with evil on right hand,
... overflowing adrenal glands,
Our moral landscape seems bland,
Driven by media which is slave to the rich brand,
It is time we take a stand,
Be the Zarathustra, not make castles in the sand,
... else our children will not find a planet too grande!

Is it the last leg for our kind,
... and smart machines are our next find,
Cometh the superman with wires fitted to his mind,
Man was an error, he is not just deaf, but also blind,
As he lacks in sight be it the fore or the hind,
There is not much to remind,
... his death is dated and signed.
Written in the autumn of 2017. The poem expresses my awe and admiration of Fredrich Nietzsche and his philosophy.
Arkapravo Aug 4
Isn't it easy to be a Nobody,
than try like Everybody,
to become Somebody,
... and, fall into life's trap as a mere Anybody?
Written on 4 August 2019
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