No muse

I am no muse,
My portrait hath not possess
The beauty of a thousand words
Beauty is in the eye of the blind
Beholder
Such is the reality that I possess

If it is not fate,
That lets my body brush the dormant sword
then righteousness has lost.
Lost in the endeavour to not let the past
Affect the morro’

As the rain becomes heavier on the Monday glass,
And the drops become stones,
Let my heart sink deep,
So I am protected from human nature
Let my heart harden,
So it will never feel again.

Confession

I see, you watching me
I am your enemy.
Point the smoking gun
Shoot the pebbles upon which my
Blistered feet stand.

His heart pierced by an army of loyal daggers
For the forgiveness of the grandest sin.
As do I place the precious lamb,
To be sold to a proud man,
For he is the blessed man
And this is to mark the honour of your
worthless existence.

To wish is a daydream of mine.
For you my eyelids will be shed,
Of all their wishes.

Her radiant hand,
Blesses the young souls of our lost generation.
His scriptures give the blind,
Eyes to stare into the heavens.
Your weapon is a house of bloody feathers,
That begs to defeat the power of belief,
But look into his eyes,
And realise that who he is
You will never be.

Les Miserables

Pop the glock,
Khushi ko de rastaa
The deceiving moonlight
On the pebbled path,
Spill the ruby
Cleanse Potsdamer Platz
The night, the fright
A shiver like
Lightning charging a million axons

Nostalgia, the key unlocks the heart shaped locket
Thought the power that tricks the invincible mind,
Where gold appears worthless,
Oceans cease to habitate the depths of life,
Love is just an inbalance of hormones.

In an artificial world,
The lost awakening of the sun
On the 24th of June 3001,
When innocence was dealt with blood.

Distorted eyes,
The clouds of laws that dictate how we live,
The curse that demands sacrifice of all humanity,
Sign our name on the dotted line,
and walk towards the dark hole.

But every dark cloud has its silver lining,
The neighbouring settlement,
An invitation to wine and dine,
Consume the ruby,
Splattered on the vacant walls,
Smell the scent of a thousand bullets,
Solve yourself,
Find yourself,
in a room of soul-catchers,
For your in Stanford now,
And it will all be over in 14 days.

Homo Sapiens

Golden brown stones,
stare at the,
battlefields of torn hearts,
no blinks.

The white flag burnt,
slaughter the dreaded option,
to conquer the sacrificed dream.
nature's game where once pure dove's flew,
posioned by the survival of our wicked morale.

Slither and attack
to win that loss,
to gain what is in his fake eyes.
False congratulation will be with you forever,
so be glad,
for you are now what you always wanted to be.

Hors de Prix

From the corner of my eye,
Glistens like a cluster of newborn stars in newborn hands,
The attire of a god-like creature
enchantment of the highest order,
If diamonds could see the perfection that has been blessed on these eyes of mine,
they would scream of envy
for they will appear a shadow,
scratched, scorn, stripped,
of all beauty.

He smiles at me on the corner of the street.
Hypnotised I sleep walk to him
as he slowly gains authority within my lifeless existence,
I feel alive.
Closer, Closer like a treasure chest awaiting to find its keeper,
Desperation to unlock the holy code.
The sound of bustling coins,
a sign of wealth.
I realise.

Like a Russian doll, he hides his unbespoked identity
under the rapture of dirty wealth.
Should I be afraid?
Why have I never felt such a calm?
Dark Clouds blot the portrait of a girl,
surrounded by the sky which has forgotten tranquility,
machinery which has tormented the simplicity of life,
pale like a ghost.
My heart trembles.

The Holy Blanket

Don’t separate the spectrum
For a peacock blue,
Eyes cannot see the sun,
That you have erased
And seized in your shadowed heart
You cannot steal the move
From the 36th cube,
Soulful lies never lose their identity
Even if encapsulated in a velvet bow oyster
For the 9 months of life,
In an 19 year old story,
I thank you.
Now your life begins.