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Yash Feb 2020
Bleeding, missing platelets
Like a fountain, Exsanguination
Carcass, skin and bones left
Bury me, burn me, you better remember me.

Boy, get your paws right off me.
Growl, howl, gnaw, all you want.
Do not defile me. Leave, run for your life
Go face your reflection and scream, monster.

Snaked Nile, blue and white
carry the scratched Sarcophagus
to the end of the world.
Mummified monster.

Relic of the dark past
Monster of today
Destroyer of the bright future.
Don't let him escape, I pray to Horus.

Oh, the divine one-eyed one
heed my prayers.
Isis, guard him like Ra
Fear him like Apophis.

Otherwise, like ISIS
he will destroy your dreams, Mesopotamia.
Possessed by Set, blinded by red
Constrain him before he kills your Osiris.

Swamp, sudden snap. The jaws of Sobek
One monster to the rescue of the other.
Great Khnum, carry the golden coffin to the sea of chaos
destroyed by Isfet or swallowed by the black snake. Keine pflege.

Nephthys. Water, flood him
bury him deep within the death bed.
Vater, Moustached black man
Ich werde dich nicht vermissen.
Just to help understand this, this poem uses a lot of Egyptian mythology references and the end of the poem uses german words.
Yash Jan 2020
Tick tock, Slow clock
Piercing sound of Silence.
Disturbance of tranquillity
or is it the silence of the storm?

Eye of the storm
Hands of the clock
Wings of time
Ma'at or Isfet?

Coming of Christ or Kalki
Impending doom or
Time of tranquillity
What tidings do the stars bring?

Frozen, bloodied dove in Berlin.
Blaring sirens of the apocalypse
or news of the red man Gorbachev
which sound will come first?

Carrefour, welcome Hecate.
Blanche´s final invitation or
Lisa´s ticket out of Dissocia
which ride is it going to be?

Sylvia, Blanche, Lisa, Sarah.
Mahavira, Buddha, Moksh.
Time, Destiny, Moirai, Jury
What is the verdict?

So much sound, yet no voice from the trachea.
So much company, yet paint can only last so long.
So many words, yet not a single syllable spoken.
So much, yet none of it.

Storm of Isfet, Impending Kalki
Blaring apocalypse, Final Invitation.
Snip my scarlet line, Atropos.
Slow clock, Tick tock.
This poem is about the unnerving silence and what follows. The poem is a person wondering what will happen next, is it the silence of peace or the silence before the storm?
This poem was inspired by a moment in my life where, in the dead of the night, only the loud ticking of the clock was heard in the entire house.

— The End —