spinning here in silence forever
wondering at the vastness of the sea
and thinking that if only each minute
would bring back tomorrow to me
living in the present reluctantly
for the future will never be now
and yesterday will never change
wanting the splinter of the soon
to fuse life and meaning for today
reaching and grasping and hoping
catching the wind in my fist
I found it only shadow and murk
the light rests unbendingly on this hour
and only in this hour can I find the way

You went tounveil your own
statue, before being shot―
dead, for telling the fiction.

Day was stranger than
night. You can discern
the oblique faces.

Handcuffed, you pick up
the pen, to rewrite the name
of omniabsent divine.

Trivial rise of surface
temperature will melt
the snow-clad *******.

A clove-scented pink―
in the hands of a butcher
does not bring a smile.

The last letter of blatant words condemns one’s thoughts
Yet, truth and lies hurt in our freedom of religion

Unbelievers speak and fight their own slanderous path
Yet, modern romanticism thrives in bitter sweet times

Writers critique riddled lyrics and light of knowledge
Yet, question wordless replies that have doubt to smile

Lame philosophy torments innocence minds like grains of sands
Yet, eternity calls outcry in the sword of defence

Unbendingly cliché, the stern morality of betrayal
Yet, our hearts voice goodwill without idleness

What do you have in the ability to survive in the external world
Yet, the division between persona and new blood Christianity exist

Mixing fact with fiction how fluid is identity with unreliable narrators
Yet, they are purged with pride though still live in darkness of the past

But, no man or woman has written their epitaph
Yet, the anonymous voice has the final say of words

Warm days receding
This could be the last
One we have
Before winter
Makes gray the sky vast
And it casts such a pall
Of embittered frostbite
Like a knife
The chills spitefully
Razor sharp blight
Vegetation life signs
And what’s left of mine
Frigid
The skin sticks to bone
In unbendingly rigid
Intractable, uncompromising
Position
Opposed to what changes I’m told
I must make
Like the seasons
Defiant
But still in time’s wake
Can’t escape state of nature
The way they were born
Can’t outpace decay rates
In my more human form