--To Rudyard Kipling


The Sword
Singing--
The voice of the Sword from the heart of the Sword
Clanging imperious
Forth from Time's battlements
His ancient and triumphing Song.

In the beginning,
Ere God inspired Himself
Into the clay thing
Thumbed to His image,
The vacant, the naked shell
Soon to be Man:
Thoughtful He pondered it,
Prone there and impotent,
Fragile, inviting
Attack and discomfiture;
Then, with a smile--
As He heard in the Thunder
That laughed over Eden
The voice of the Trumpet,
The iron Beneficence,
Calling his dooms
To the Winds of the world--
Stooping, He drew
On the sand with His finger
A shape for a sign
Of his way to the eyes
That in wonder should waken,
For a proof of His will
To the breaking intelligence.
That was the birth of me:
I am the Sword.

Bleak and lean, grey and cruel,
Short-hilted, long shafted,
I froze into steel;
And the blood of my elder,
His hand on the hafts of me,
Sprang like a wave
In the wind, as the sense
Of his strength grew to ecstasy;
Glowed like a coal
In the throat of the furnace;
As he knew me and named me
The War-Thing, the Comrade,
Father of honour
And giver of kingship,
The fame-smith, the song-master,
Bringer of women
On fire at his hands
For the pride of fulfilment,
Priest (saith the Lord)
Of his marriage with victory
**! then, the Trumpet,
Handmaid of heroes,
Calling the peers
To the place of espousals!
**! then, the splendour
And glare of my ministry,
Clothing the earth
With a livery of lightnings!
**! then, the music
Of battles in onset,
And ruining armours,
And God's gift returning
In fury to God!
Thrilling and keen
As the song of the winter stars,
**! then, the sound
Of my voice, the implacable
Angel of Destiny!--
I am the Sword.

Heroes, my children,
Follow, O, follow me!
Follow, exulting
In the great light that breaks
From the sacred Companionship!
****** through the fatuous,
****** through the fungous brood,
Spawned in my shadow
And gross with my gift!
****** through, and hearken
O, hark, to the Trumpet,
The ****** of Battles,
Calling, still calling you
Into the Presence,
Sons of the Judgment,
Pure wafts of the Will!
Edged to annihilate,
Hilted with government,
Follow, O, follow me,
Till the waste places
All the grey globe over
Ooze, as the honeycomb
Drips, with the sweetness
Distilled of my strength,
And, teeming in peace
Through the wrath of my coming,
They give back in beauty
The dread and the anguish
They had of me visitant!
Follow, O follow, then,
Heroes, my harvesters!
Where the tall grain is ripe
****** in your sickles!
Stripped and adust
In a stubble of empire,
Scything and binding
The full sheaves of sovranty:
Thus, O, thus gloriously,
Shall you fulfil yourselves!
Thus, O, thus mightily,
Show yourselves sons of mine--
Yea, and win grace of me:
I am the Sword!

I am the feast-maker:
Hark, through a noise
Of the screaming of eagles,
Hark how the Trumpet,
The mistress of mistresses,
Calls, silver-throated
And stern, where the tables
Are spread, and the meal
Of the Lord is in hand!
Driving the darkness,
Even as the banners
And spears of the Morning;
Sifting the nations,
The **** from the metal,
The waste and the weak
From the fit and the strong;
Fighting the brute,
The abysmal Fecundity;
Checking the gross,
Multitudinous blunders,
The groping, the purblind
Excesses in service
Of the Womb universal,
The absolute drudge;
Firing the charactry
Carved on the World,
The miraculous gem
In the seal-ring that burns
On the hand of the Master--
Yea! and authority
Flames through the dim,
Unappeasable Grisliness
Prone down the nethermost
Chasms of the Void!--
Clear singing, clean slicing;
Sweet spoken, soft finishing;
Making death beautiful,
Life but a coin
To be staked in the pastime
Whose playing is more
Than the transfer of being;
Arch-anarch, chief builder,
Prince and evangelist,
I am the Will of God:
I am the Sword.

The Sword
Singing--
The voice of the Sword from the heart of the Sword
Clanging majestical,
As from the starry-staired
Courts of the primal Supremacy,
His high, irresistible song.

There, she lies on the altar
Almost held the sun she—
almost in her hands
Opened up, a rose-bud chaste
petal by petal by blood, with
a sting, oh, so sweet and sweet, as
sunset reborn a bee; she was
gold and silver and black at once.

Almost held the sun she—
and no wax wings used
Oh, Icarus, loved you did a wild sky,
— yourself a light-licked doom  
as your father cried,
Your father cried for you.
A veil, as purity, as tear-coated eyes, she wore
as wings of wasps
as beetles she giggled—

Icarus, flew that you,
—and with tongue-tied elation too
Icarus,
she rambled on for hours long.
A letter she held in spring kissed of hands
—I will wed you to the sun,
her father had sworn.
The sun—and oh a sun he was,
child of the sea, some sword in honey
dipped; now her awaiting.
And blushed she did herself a dawn,
a fall's first bronze, a flicker's
childish song—

The altar, on the altar.
Almost held the sun she—
Swallowed a mayhem for the father's sin.
Icarus, tell me of the plummet.
Tell me of the greens you saw,
of blues, of whites,
of the whirling world—

Men tread around around her
their leather-hard soles all ready
to crush lost skulls an empty moor.

Twirling,
the dust, like may have, her hair
before the wedding day
Strands and strands, gently styled—
Of rays of stars, blurry through clouds,
of boughs, of wings of swans.

Spears, swords,
rubbed and rubbed to mirrors,
to lakes' lifeless serenity.
Armours, and ships laden with life, with
sails, the fluttering doves;
As the winds dance once more—
as harbours vacated, as waves torn apart for the horde, as move they on— on too the sun— as
She still lies.

Icarus, Icarus, was it the ocean
that cupped its palms, or did the soil cave in
as down into the dark's slick throat you slid?
Surely, was soft
the sea's well-loved mouth,
Surely soft or true

She lies on the altar
a trinket glossy
on a hoof, a ****** in the bell,
how does one say—
the valley of lilies, she grew it inside.
Spilled out on the stones, they are fed
to the flies.
Almost held the sun she—
Icarus, must you know

You did not sleep a wretched silence
within the womb of war.
No crescent blades you drank
down a leaking throat—
She lies on the altar,
Vanquished for moon
— for metal upon bone
for blood, for blood, for blood.

A father’s green promise—
Seasoned to rust before the king
a wilt, a quiet; a plucking, a rustle, a quiet once more as the shore is cleaned—
a speck of brown among
a thousand more
beneath the feet of the sky.

Icarus, on the altar she lies—
as insects swarm about
a ripened land far, far away—
Icarus, Icarus,
on the altar

Don thy best armours
For your heart flies
a lock of her shining hair
betwixt the spear shaft
to pierce the hearts of men
their broken forms lay strewn
across aphrodites battlefields
Beware you glimpse
such grace as ever strode
the folds of firmas breast

observing the ardent eagerness of the wind
it is clearly understood
that nascent pollens are overflowing
the niche of her heart  

in response to the signals of the river
she keeps on ringing
all long the month of earth-quakes

the bench of the rail-station
wants to hug her

the medicine-counter of the ***-end of the day
beckons her with the hand to come nearer

in the assembly-hall for musical demonstration
adorned with ash-trays
going on the rehearsal of her dancing and singing

she also distributes some life
to the meticulous dressing
of the magnolia

2.
let the swimming pool be fully absorbed  
with its dark-room

when the feather of your fore-finger
becomes green

the merchant of venice
will leave his business of photo-coping machine
to start walking directly
in search of new earnings

evening sets in
on the boiler of the delta

putting on yellow-dress comes
the water-vessel of the paper-balloon

there is no singing bird
shivering with cold
in the fold of the dear bed-sheet  

it is possible that the boldness of the metro-railway
may give some wood of tamarisk
on the expanded palms  

yet oh the western page of night
do tell today
why so much tamed polythene
are here in our cohabitation

3.
after so many days
published in the wind
painted in wings
the recent heart’s desire
of the doors and windows

they have rolled up their fairy-tales
from the ignorant drawing-room that wanted
to set her mind to the hill slanting downward

they did not want to know
how much rheumatism is there
in the hands and legs of the bark
to whom is delegated
the control of the mason-made bus-journey

sleep hugs the eye-lids of the rivers

though there is no postage-stamp
within the reaching-point

then what magic is there
in the hill slanting downward

why the wall does not learn
how to swim like a fish

truly it is he from whom
those negligible moments of man-ism
itch for blue candle-stand

4.
the ***-appeal of the telephone
and the bugle of the carnies-breaking ****-crows
are all harmonised seamlessly

the noon in the blood
is flowing along the river

all the dialogues are covered
with misspelling of men and women

the tailors want to increase life
cutting rightly the walking of clothes

after the vanishing of collyrium
from the eyes
there is not a single being
in the relief-camps

as far as the eyes can travel
i can notice in the ear-lob of the village-boats
the water-colour of fire-flies
twinkles

then let an agreement be signed
with the defence ministry
on the right
to enter into private bathroom

5.
in the air
on which flowers are engraved
the union of the betel leaves are making their outposts
anew

before the calling of the next pine-woods
you all the butterflies do take on board the tram
to go to the south-pole

is it well to incline so much
towards the tv-screen

who can say
the waves of the terracotta
would never make revolution

i’ve sent some full-moons of winter
and some water-bodies
into the holes of the handkerchief

the lacking of the colours
may kindly be excused

the birds that are blind from their birth
has been singing till now
the songs of the cave-civilisation

there is no question any where
this eclipsed-valley is adorned
with the answers only

6.
i am to be blown off on the first bombardment
then it is to be flown
in the crowd of  fire-flies
on the bushes of the scented-lemons

and it is to see the memory race of the grown-up girls

it is to see more
that after the opening of the sluice gates
one by one  
how the gathering in the hindu hotels
increases
by leaps and bounds

the pores of the skin of the body
whose hoods are open
and who are running up
along the spiral route
that leads to the top of the mountain

their child
due to late-marriage
now only knows
how to move on all fours

7.
under the table-glass
i  unfold the life-chronicle of one lakh year

and in the olive-cabinet
all the applications for living

from the monsoon-noon to the winter-afternoon
the lines you draw on the parchment

none of them is so condensed
as to touch the palms of a sailor  

from the numerable timber-joists
come down the swarms of personal white ants

no spring seems to become corporeal
without the spell of misunderstandings  

so of late
besides the dry statistics
with the cough
comes out grey thermometer

prickly-heats spread over the whole body  

the sticks of young antenna
shake off their wings

behind the bath-scene
lies the succulent hailstorm

8.
there is no lovely add
yet the market-value of your headache
is going up day by day

all the noon send her mad
the intellectual kisses
the coos

or is it the running about of the tennis-ball

so much pop-corns are flying out
from the draw-well

or that sound of foot-steps
in the north-east

may be
that is of some brown horses
or some horse-drawn perambulators

when the moon spreads out the platinum
does it judge the recipients

thus the bin-leaves can ring
from head to foot

it unfurls an incorrigible right-angle
in the early-evening

the troop with armours
open a shop of ******
beside the vainglory of the lake

--I. M. Edward John Henley (1861-1898)

Where are the passions they essayed,
And where the tears they made to flow?
Where the wild humours they portrayed
For laughing worlds to see and know?
Othello's wrath and Juliet's woe?
Sir Peter's whims and Timon's gall?
And Millamant and Romeo?
Into the night go one and all.

Where are the braveries, fresh or frayed?
The plumes, the armours--friend and foe?
The cloth of gold, the rare brocade,
The mantles glittering to and fro?
The pomp, the pride, the royal show?
The cries of war and festival?
The youth, the grace, the charm, the glow?
Into the night go one and all.

The curtain falls, the play is played:
The Beggar packs beside the Beau;
The Monarch troops, and troops the Maid;
The Thunder huddles with the Snow.
Where are the revellers high and low?
The clashing swords?  The lover's call?
The dancers gleaming row on row?
Into the night go one and all.

Envoy

Prince, in one common overthrow
The Hero tumbles with the Thrall:
As dust that drives, as straws that blow,
Into the night go one and all.

Oh, here I am confined to the walls of my sadness!
I am lean and weary,
my heart thin and dreary.
Oh, how I've longt to wander yon mountainous hills again,
this time with thee,
descending the steeps, our bare foots brushing against the heath beneath
blending into the hilly surroundings
under the laughter of the joyful heavens -
o how riveting the bank underneath shall be!
O how delicacy shall reign my frame abruptly -
bequeathing its foreign spirit gladly,
so that I am showered with its frantic idyll
with adversity whose love can never forget!
O how this joy shall conquer any rivers of indignation,
drive their disdained yoke away
along with those conceited tears
of sullenness, hatred, and amorous gluttony!
But unreachable art thou!
O Kozarev, my prince, sole prince in these silent wintry dreams,
how thou appeareth like a gleaming apparition,
soothing my reposes, making whose armours complete,
with smiles can bear all my gloominess away,
whose lovely jests are warmth to my soul, my yearning and choking soul,
in the deathlike bursts of this misty day!
O Kozarev, in today's laborious air I shall think of thee,
thy stately figure, thy youth of ardour!
Thy grin the star to the fading sun;
thy words that calmeth sorrow; and sendth thrills through my bones!
O mumbling lips, o trembling horns!
My little treasure, if only thou could hear my earnest longing
my very earnest desire; sincere yet tempestuous
that I shalt lift my hands around thee
Just how those rocks stand firm on the glaring sea
Cheers in its coldness; praises its bland waviness
Like a small boat unyielding to the melodious storm
when the last harmony is no longer sounding!
O, how I long to share this fondness with thee!
Kozarev, my demure pleasure, my belated fate!
My firing snow, my blazing sun,
the handsomest flower of my being!
My lithe little heart might be of nothing to thee
I am unworthy, yet I yearn for thee so willingly!
Kozarev, amidst the rolls of my dreams I devour thee,
wherein dwells the upmost of our affection
and sits our sheepish little village!
And adjacent to the gentle fireside
upon our wooden squeaking chair
brimmed with love, smeared with laughs
I should rock by thee
sew thee into my very own loveliness
and ****** thy grace
to the faint redness of my lips.

You are ashes and bones to me
just so you know
Sorry, but my self-protection dragon must set you ablaze
Sent you off and away
Don't you know I move on to a different land?
It's not all castles walls and guards now
I'm all free!
Free as can be!
I'll mingle,
mingle and laugh happily...!
She released me from your shackles,
for the sake of my sanity
There might not be a knight...
Neither in shining armours,
nor galloping in on any horse or phegasus...
Nor am I my own hero,
or learned to fight for my own...
But my dragon,
she'll swoop me flying to places--
She'll keep on protecting me
Showing places we could never ventured,
you and me ...
And that's okay
Because she'll protect me,
and I will always be save
So I'll fly,
Goodbye, my love ...
In this imaginary grave,
I'll store your memory
Until I'm ready...
At least for now,
You never are, never was, and *never will be

We are the unsung poets
who toil in day for the harvests
then write at night as the wick burns
in the dark slips of our meek turns

We are the unseen poets
who invisibly raise armours
swing pens as the dark evades the light
a strip to the core of the soul,our right

We are the trampled heroes
whose halos are out-shined by thunder
and tongues tied to a word twisted silence
Our heavenly seduction of a naked dance

I am the unsung poet
inspired by love and rhythm of life
transpired by the ounce of human experience
My eternal contract that only makes sense

I stay amid the land of snow
and read my life on carven walls
in places barren, by war and plague
I slumber among these darkened halls

Remember well, the times of dread
fierce we fought like dragon's kin
swung our swords, as swift as wind
with armours hard as dragon skin

Mountains we scaled, in sheer frost
sailed the seas with storms about
journeyed on while facing death
willing to die without a doubt

Blood was spilled, and mixed with sweat
infernal rage burned in our hearts
No man or God could ever stop
our swords from tearing worlds apart

The end was red, just like our eyes
vultures dined like kings and queens
nothing was left, the corpses stared
In anguish I looked at harrowing scenes

My brethren gone, it's been so long
I reminisce now, those memories grey
that golden past now lost in time
it leaves me with no more to say

Thunder echoes.  
Flashes through billions
Of hailstones smashing against
Trees, leaving clouds of

Crushed leaves hanging, slowly
Blending into the chaos of
Angry weather, then: Nothing.
I worry for my windows,

Pounded with ice and shaking
From relentless thunder.
Nature, now, is an angry
Woman,

Child, heirloom or love stolen.
Furious fire, skies dark with a
Thousand wings.
Drop your swords and run,

Men. Your homes are in
Flames. Your armours as
Useless as your wet pairs of
Long johns.

Did more than just flip the script
Threw it in the fire
Watched it burn
Told you I was down
To sing a brand new song
Hoped yall were willing to come along
All those dark thoughts
Watched them circle the drain
When I washed them away
And every inch of me has been cleaned
Prayers under starlit skies
Now I've pieced together this life
I'm ready to start again
Postive vibes, clearer mind
this life I'm living is finally mine

I'm happier now
dug out all the doubt
Feeling confident
in the decisions, I'm making
stopped all my body parts failing
My heart was shattered
and maybe it'll never truly be the same
But the blood is still pumping
Yeah it is still running
With a little care,
these emotions that were
locked here in my chest
Have been set free
And now that I can just be me
I know I'm right where I need to be
Living this life happily

Deserted wastelands
a mere memory for me
Try not to take too much time
Reminiscing of darker days
I find my self-basking in positive rays
The sunlight shines on my face
Feel the warmth in the form of a wave
The heat that hits my skin
Heats me up within
Where holes in my soul once laid
The stitched up scars now faded
I've been rejuvenated
The torment that taunted me inside
I've erased it
Memories cleared for new images
Now a rebooted system
Refreshed, I'm ready for new heights
I'm ready for new moments
To be captured through these eyes
Thinking all these positive thoughts
Now I can share all that I've been taught
All those battles I'd fought
now on display
In this museum filled with words
These are all the things I've learned
What it took to get here was earned
And well deserved

I'm happier now
dug out all the doubt
Feeling confident
in the decisions, I'm making
stopped all my body parts failing
My heart was shattered
and maybe it'll never truly be the same
But the blood is still pumping
Yeah it is still running
With a little care,
these emotions that were
locked here in my chest
Have been set free
And now that I can just be me
I know I'm right where  I need to be
Living this life happily

Cut everyone off
That was dragging me down
Less negativity in my life now
Sure it was a little lonely
But I found the ones that truly cared
And with a little help
They raised me up
To this place, this feels like home
Comfortable in this skin, I've been gifted
Only reminiscing about the times
That truly made me smile
Childhood friends,
Achievements that made me proud
And I've been writing better than ever
I can't be thrown from my throne
Got my rightful crown on
Armours strong, demons are gone.

I'm happier now
dug out all the doubt
Feeling confident
in the decisions, I'm making
stopped all my body parts failing
My heart was shattered
and maybe it'll never truly be the same
But the blood is still pumping
Yeah it is still running
With a little care,
these emotions that were
locked here in my chest
Have been set free
And now that I can just be me
I know I'm right where I need to be
Living this life happily

©2018 Written By Benji James

Our advice is loose a few pounds
You're too round, they said
They frowned and drowned your silhouette
We'll kick you to the ground

Our advice is take up less space
Women with grace should know their place
You're a disgrace
A women should not leave a trace,
For this is a mans place

Our advice is speak less
Your opinions are too excess
Just go fix your dress
You have men to impress
Don't depress them with your free thoughts

Our advice is cater to your surroundings
These stings of femininity are your duty
But you see you cannot flee
They key to your freedom
Hangs around the neck of ****
Beaten till you're numb
Look what I've become
Come come, look what you've made us do
Beat you till you're blue, because you flew

My advice is, crush the bones of your oppressors
Put on your armours, grab your spurs
Smash the words of your oppressors
You deserve answers not slurs

My advice is gracefully place your furs on your throne, built of their souls
Throw away their scrolls into the coals
Admire the fire within your porcelain chest
And create a bonfire for the blessed

Their advice is done, you are no longer their nun
Now teach these to your son
Or he may too be, thrown into the sun.

-CP.

A tribute to a master

Auguries of Innocence
By William Blake

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage
A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons
Shudders Hell thr' all its regions
A dog starvd at his Masters Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State
A Horse misusd upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human blood
Each outcry of the hunted Hare
A fibre from the Brain does tear
A Skylark wounded in the wing
A Cherubim does cease to sing
The Game **** clipd & armd for fight
Does the Rising Sun affright
Every Wolfs & Lions howl
Raises from Hell a Human Soul
The wild deer, wandring here & there
Keeps the Human Soul from Care
The Lamb misusd breeds Public Strife
And yet forgives the Butchers knife
The Bat that flits at close of Eve
Has left the Brain that wont Believe
The Owl that calls upon the Night
Speaks the Unbelievers fright
He who shall hurt the little Wren
Shall never be belovd by Men
He who the Ox to wrath has movd
Shall never be by Woman lovd
The wanton Boy that kills the Fly
Shall feel the Spiders enmity
He who torments the Chafers Sprite
Weaves a Bower in endless Night
The Catterpiller on the Leaf
Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief
**** not the Moth nor Butterfly
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh
He who shall train the Horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar
The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat
Feed them & thou wilt grow fat
The Gnat that sings his Summers Song
Poison gets from Slanders tongue
The poison of the Snake & Newt
Is the sweat of Envys Foot
The poison of the Honey Bee
Is the Artists Jealousy
The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags
Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags
A Truth thats told with bad intent
Beats all the Lies you can invent
It is right it should be so
Man was made for Joy & Woe
And when this we rightly know
Thro the World we safely go
Joy & Woe are woven fine
A Clothing for the soul divine
Under every grief & pine
Runs a joy with silken twine
The Babe is more than swadling Bands
Throughout all these Human Lands
Tools were made & Born were hands
Every Farmer Understands
Every Tear from Every Eye
Becomes a Babe in Eternity
This is caught by Females bright
And returnd to its own delight
The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar
Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore
The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
Writes Revenge in realms of Death
The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air
Does to Rags the Heavens tear
The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun
Palsied strikes the Summers Sun
The poor Mans Farthing is worth more
Than all the Gold on Africs Shore
One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands
Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole Nation sell & buy
He who mocks the Infants Faith
Shall be mockd in Age & Death
He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
The rotting Grave shall neer get out
He who respects the Infants faith
Triumphs over Hell & Death
The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons
Are the Fruits of the Two seasons
The Questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to Reply
He who replies to words of Doubt
Doth put the Light of Knowledge out
The Strongest Poison ever known
Came from Caesars Laurel Crown
Nought can Deform the Human Race
Like to the Armours iron brace
When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow
To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow
A Riddle or the Crickets Cry
Is to Doubt a fit Reply
The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile
Make Lame Philosophy to smile
He who Doubts from what he sees
Will neer Believe do what you Please
If the Sun & Moon should Doubt
Theyd immediately Go out
To be in a Passion you Good may Do
But no Good if a Passion is in you
The ***** & Gambler by the State
Licencd build that Nations Fate
The Harlots cry from Street to Street
Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet
The Winners Shout the Losers Curse
Dance before dead Englands Hearse
Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born
Every Morn and every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to Endless Night
We are led to Believe a Lie
When we see not Thro the Eye
Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night
When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light
God Appears & God is Light
To those poor Souls who dwell in Night
But does a Human Form Display
To those who Dwell in Realms of day

The girl i like ...
is beutiful ..
Like a motorbike..
But not Ducati...
She moving softly
Like a motorbike
But not Yamaha .
Neither Harley...

She is more like
British bike.
Triumph ..
I like her sound.
I like her shiny armours..
And ride..???
Ooo...what a ride..
Smooth and silky..
And..what a bike..
God... is beutiful and shiny..

I know
she maybe like the man ..
The rider ..
Her own
Dark ...
Ghost rider..
Maybe ..?
Me.?

I have scars and bruises
in places where you'd have to
know me better to notice them.

                      On the corners of my heart,
                             in the ridges of my body,
                                   fuelled by my dark thoughts,
                                          engulfed deep into my soul,
                                    
                            
                                          they are all here.

They are very different,
as you might see,
because all of them are really
close to who i am;
every atoms of me,
and
                            every time I love too deeply,
                             or care too much,
                              too clingy, you know,
                               they re-bruise
                               and re-open.
                                  
Some people just know why
i always have so much armours in me
and dress up in colours
                        to bandage them up,
                                                
            ­                                                       and it terrifies me
                                           no matter how much i told them,
                                                                           they are just
                                                         passing   by.

I'll change
Everything I am,
Everything I was.
And my turn has come
The armour is set
The orders are done
The "game" now is on !
The battles have begun
Jaaved'aani jaan'aejaan
Don't yawn back to sleep
Post Renaissance
Go !
No holding on to root
Which hinders that pursuit
No plunders, wars,or loots
No rapes and guns
No violence or those
Tease or Boo's or hoot  !

Change !
Everything that's bad
All children who'r sad
All oldies ,goldies ,mad !
No touching, judging, *******
To the nuts who're simply glad
For
the time has come ,
The armours is set
And the orders are done
The "game" now is on
the battles have begun .

Change !

Change !

I'll change
Everything I am .
Everything  I was !

Change .

-Gautam vasisth

In the crisp of morning, does edge of rest approach. For in the tents of great men do the warriors awaken in preparation for battle.

Sharpening their swords, fortifying their shields, girding their spears and dawning their armours - a crest for honour. Though amid the steadiness, do they await the word of their beloved monach.

"Sar-Shalom!" be the cries heard, echoeing upon the voices of the wind. Reaching even beyond the battlefields. The name of the monach, adored by the great men, anticipating the words to come.

Alas, wisdom comes on the voice of the wind: "In the vallies, will you victories come". Bewildered they stood, asking themselves "why?" But, their monach adorned in their love does their loyalty stand.

So, to the vallies do they march. Upon the word do they stand, anticipation honoured by their trust. For a hard battle will they fight, yet a grand victory will they know - a relief from their beloved.

From the peaks do they descend, and to the vallies do they arrive. The battlefield marked for honour by their seeing eyes;
Unsheathing are they ready, for the accusers come - but unexpecting are they, for the assurance declared in the meeting of blades.

The divines surrounding their accusers, is the battle endorsed for the victors. As they cut down even their final Goliaths. In the praises given up on the voices of the wind, does Sar-Shalom hear the chants - His great men, now the victories of Eden.

Now the journey do they cherish, in returning to their home. The tents of great men, now victories on the heights. What more shall be done? But to sing in glee. For the enemies borders are lost in the restoring victory.

Their wounds shall heal, and bruises shall fade, but the songs of glee shall ring out through time, eternal;
Oh, the voices of the winds chant forever "Victory in the Vallies!"

lets build tree houses
and blanket dens
forts to be reckoned with
no one will infiltrate our
dreams
beneath these woven armours
dusk to dawn warriors
duelling with the notion of infinity

playful glances
and
everything i never said

my body already knows
way before my mind can read the cues
to connect on a level such as this
is rarer than july snow
and surely just as beautiful

he holds my face
cradling softly to meet his gaze
thumb and forefinger the lightest vice
but
i know these hands could never break me

intimacy is not something to be explained so readily
or easily
it should be
bittersweet raw honesty

lets build tree houses
and blanket dens
forts to be reckoned with
no one will infiltrate our
dreams
beneath these woven armours
dusk to dawn warriors
duelling with the notion of infinity

playful glances
and
everything i never said

my body already knows
way before my mind can read the cues
to connect on a level such as this
is rarer than July snow
and surely just as beautiful

he holds my face
cradling softly to meet his gaze
thumb and forefinger the lightest vice
but
i know these hands could never break me

intimacy is not something to be explained so readily
or easily
it should be
bittersweet raw honesty

Look who just went
and broke my heart
All over again
Luckily this time I was prepared
Pen in hand, armours marked
But I'm not dead
Of all the lies
that I've been fed
I think yours have been the best
And I don't know what to believe
All those words that
come out of your mouth
I still can't ******* figure you out
There's no finding our way back
To what we were now

You can hit me with
I've never had you
But you've never had me too
So I'm giving my heart
To a girl that's just not you
Sick of having my heart
Thrown to the floor
This just ended like before
Except for this time
I'm the one walking
Out of that door, Yep!

Should mark my album with your name
Nah I'm just going to turn the page
You and I
Are never going to be the same
Don't come running back to me again
I'm a whole lot of over this
Nope you can't fix this
No, no girl, I don't want your kiss
You can't fix this,
You can't fix this

Ouch, ouch,
Wait, did you just say
I'm the one who doesn't care?
I'm pretty sure
I'm the only one
Of the two of us
Who even cared at all,
You were always looking for a way
To push me away
Then you'll realise what you did
And I'm always stupid and forgive
But this is it, I've had enough
Of this one-way street love

You can hit me with
I've never had you
But you've never had me too
So I'm giving my heart
To a girl that's just not you
Sick of having my heart
Thrown to the floor
This just ended like before
Except for this time
I'm the one walking
Out of that door, Yep!

Should mark my album with your name
Nah I'm just going to turn the page
You and I
Are never going to be the same
Don't come running back to me again
I'm a whole lot of over this
Nope you can't fix this
No, no girl, I don't want your kiss
You can't fix this,
You can't fix this

Been sitting here thinking
Maybe I'm wrong,
Just kidding, I'm not
Are you getting frustrated
With this whole situation?
Back and forth in your head
Can't make decisions all over again
I don't need you, I don't need this
All I need is a number one hit
And I really think
that this might be it
And I'm smiling through my teeth
Can you see, can you see me?
I'm not trying to attention seek
Oh stop it, please

You can hit me with
I've never had you
But you've never had me too
So I'm giving my heart
To a girl that's just not you
Sick of having my heart
Thrown to the floor
This just ended like before
Except for this time
I'm the one walking
Out of that door, Yep!

Should mark my album with your name
Nah I'm just going to turn the page
You and I
Are never going to be the same
Don't come running back to me again
I'm a whole lot of over this
Nope you can't fix this
No, no girl, I don't want your kiss
You can't fix this,
You can't fix this

©2017 Written By Benji James

Dear daisy
sorry I have been so lazy to write to you,
you have the right to know,
training has been intense,
with little time to rest,
the war and it unrest
has left us with little time to connect,
I miss those hours,
we hung around the beach,
as we fish in the middle of the sea,
we are moving to Afghanistan,
to settle the crisis,
nicely,
I will be back by may,
maybe when peace has rein,
I have a confession to make,
hope it won't cause you an heartbreak,
I shot a kid at the lake,
the other day we went on a mission,
to there region,
he couldn't take the pain of death,
as every breath of his,
was his last release,
he was harmless,
and I got armours,
now my conscience,
is wailing in unrest,
I just want you to know,
I will arrive by noon sometime soon,
pray for me so I see the moon,
cause my enemies within,
are planning a coup.

A bartered dark
of full shone armours
gallowed brooks in
shins of alder
trod the clays of stilted copse
that crest the low slung chestnut rides

To inglenooks of scuttled hamlets
strung in river- maiden's hair ,
a haven for the last ascendant
flinted from the steeping turf.

A subtle art of arcane movement
starboard cupped
in stone- pocked pewter

sparks the grailed pain
of foxes harrowed
in that sudden wood.

If only I knew how to mold bricks out of lone
I’d build you a house
And paint it with flowers
That mimic the colourless
hues of your gaze

Leaves, I’d tie to stooping fingers
Of our barren talks
Fruits with moonlight in their stout tummies
your chapped lips
They envy the sweetness of
Do you know?
(Too bold a flattery, you say—
Dare me then; dare you)
Gentle I’d go
Show them the tree
And they’d make their nests
In its laden boughs

A crown on your head
Weaved out of patience
I’d softly place
If only I knew a way past this barricade
That together we built
A thousand years ago
I’d be a flock of wild geese
Guiding you out

Oh, my fluttering wings
Calmed in the sky’s blue embrace
I’d soar around in winters cruel
I’d watch and watch
The edges of our land

A bed I’d carve
Out of roses and dawns
Hang up my rivers
By the glass windows shivering in our storm
Oh, there is a kingdom
I would like to save
A bunch of bluebirds, and a quiet queen
The slender moon far, far away

If only I knew
A melody strong enough
To cure this aching rebellion
Oh, if I did! If I—
I watched, and watched the shores
Of our land
No ships came with their armours ready
Your own bluebirds,
They fight now the flowers
They ravage the fruits

If only I had a drop of divinity
Sulking somewhere inside me
I’d banish their light souls
Out of their bodies
But bluebirds,
Are pretty
And so is the mayhem
And so is silence,
And you aridity

Lurk at a distance,
I know not
What to build out of this lone

He spoke not even a word
Face showed danger(hatari)
Enemy in line was his daily bread
Born to fight in the space of time.
Stood in a distance watching closely
they feared to raise their armours
As they sounded their trumpets
Not moved even an inch
when their bravest approached his skin
He fled that the blade couldn't
penetrate his skin
Moved 10 feet back
To the terror of a bold man
Allergic to smiles
With a scourged face
like he had nothing to loose.
His mouth released a word
that scattered the soldiers in attack
they had no pinnacle over him
As their prey was to wild to hunt down

When the stars twinkle for the person in front of you,
Look behind you, they maybe invisible to the next person
And then you appreciate the sight of them.

If the oxygen you take in
is being paid for, would you have been here?
If nature was a tourist center, where golds and diamonds are the gate pass
Would you see them often?
What if the skies are the roofs for the blessed
And the ground only holds the purest of hearts
Would life be beautiful to imagine?


You never look at the diamonds in the other person's hand
And compare it with the pebbles in yours
You don't look at the beauty in the other person's face
You look at the beauty in your eyes
And then you appreciate you

As It is war between the two sides of you
The one who regard you and the one who doesn't
Each fighting to be the ruler of your soul

So sharpen your sword and put on your armours
Guide your horse and glide through the valleys
After all it's not a war happening anywhere
It's a war happening within you.
And you choose the one with the Victory