Picking slowly through the myth and legends
I find it hard to decipher your cobweb caveman tendencies
All of my reserves quiver when you glance at me
Touch is foreign but electric when we chance to graze
Dreams of your sad eyes splash across my night in vivid hazel wonder

I'm not quite there yet.

You cannot hear me over her static
My soft, reluctant waves over powered by the gaudy onslaught of ****
I may know a thing or two about slippery slits and their uses
But mine is sacred, not thrown around
All they want is you
Grinding between running-with-scissor thighs
Pounding their rough and tumble flesh into tenderized shells
Your eyes are empty though, I see
Inside I burn the one for me

You have become dull, your sight jaded
Hard to even relay my hollowed heart's appreciation
Without being cut down for my trouble
Verse hammer and nail will straighten you out
Sharpen once again that quick silver edge of darkness
That I miss
Fell in love with
*Obsess over

The boats were once used to catch fish,
They say Jesus was a fisher of souls,
Today they are those who dine and wish upon hate's dish,
Our world watches as people are spilled and killed in waters cold.

"What was their crime?"

These poor few who dared to make a stand,
The news tick-tocks the politicians slime-ridden rhymes,
This desert ocean was once the Promised Land.

This small band of courageous folk,
They tried to make a difference,
They sailed and spoke with high hopes,
They took no sides, Peace was their only preference.

Blood upon the sails,
Blood upon the mast,
Blood runs wet in the desert jails,
Blood stains the present and the past.

Peace died here,
Her guts were first spliced then sliced open,
Nothing will save us, not even a prayer,

"Look up there! Do you see Death's raven?"



©Rangzeb Hussain