"skiny" poems
Me counting the ticks
of darkness of horrors
and skiny demons
which arrived as nightmares
then i realise
isn't they are alike her
who is around me
since years of beingness
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 10:15 AM UTC
Wearing the red bandanna,
you tried to manipulate the bedrock.
Life had been never the same for me.
The ferry sinks the riding
deity in midstream. In polytheism,
I never had my own god.
O the chemistry of love has
changed. Meatless, my skiny arms,
lift the sage of fallen moon in darkness.
I am not ready to conclude
as yet, my epic of fragmented truth.
We were fighting the wars of lame lies.
Who would spare me to become
immortal in stones? Let us not start the
annihilation of sane shadows in the poem.
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 1:07 AM UTC