Distant thunders of wars threaten
my peaceful
landscape of sleep,
in bed I twist and turn
shocked by the cries of
people getting killed for
reasons hidden or unknown;
when lives get complex
like tangled knotted strings,
for death to snap it
hardly needs any reason.
Bombs explode and light
a wild fire of destructions,
creating an illusion, that
it's just a happy fire works.
Misery has it's reign everywhere;
women are unconsolable in grief,
men are in moral turmoil.
Waking up I realize,
nightmares come in waves
soaking up waking hours with remorse
in our sad sordid times.
Bad dreams at night are merciful
as one is insulated from
being a nervous wreck.
how could one look away
when one is bleeding from
the eyes like a martyr?
Mothers are wailing,
fathers go missing, all of a sudden
children are made orphans
with no place to call their own.
Nobody seems to be concerned;
no one any more is
the keeper of one's own
brothers and sisters.
The world collects statistics
and explanations dutifully,
reports are written
and stalked in shelves;
all hyperbole, lies and nonsense
signifying nothing,
in a wold broiled as
love had gone missing.
In this silent night, smelling blood
of sacrificial lambs,
a pale moon hangs low
like human conscience;
silent witness or accomplice?
We stand here in the shadows confused;
"Aren't we trudging back to darkness?"
Oct 29, 2011
Oct 29, 2011 at 9:37 AM UTC
Distant thunders of wars threaten
my peaceful
landscape of sleep,
in bed I twist and turn
shocked by the cries of
people getting killed for
reasons hidden or unknown;
when lives get complex
like tangled knotted strings,
for death to snap it
hardly needs any reason.
Bombs explode and light
a wild fire of destructions,
creating an illusion, that
it's just a happy fire works.
Misery has it's reign everywhere;
women are unconsolable in grief,
men are in moral turmoil.
Waking up I realize,
nightmares come in waves
soaking up waking hours with remorse
in our sad sordid times.
Bad dreams at night are merciful
as one is insulated from
being a nervous wreck.
how could one look away
when one is bleeding from
the eyes like a martyr?
Mothers are wailing,
fathers go missing, all of a sudden
children are made orphans
with no place to call their own.
Nobody seems to be concerned;
no one any more is
the keeper of one's own
brothers and sisters.
The world collects statistics
and explanations dutifully,
reports are written
and stalked in shelves;
all hyperbole, lies and nonsense
signifying nothing,
in a wold broiled as
love had gone missing.
In this silent night, smelling blood
of sacrificial lambs,
a pale moon hangs low
like human conscience;
silent witness or accomplice?
We stand here in the shadows confused;
"Aren't we trudging back to darkness?"
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