Ballad Of Pain

And in blood shall I write
this tale of mine;
All bloody and foul,
nothing divine...

Across miles from where I stand,
all around,
heads, limbs and charred bones
on the ground...
Trees cut and ripped apart-
bloody all..
Me alone, cry and shout
and unheard call;
to nobody, though to all,
help I seek.
Through eyes closed with gushing tears
I try to peek...

Oh! the sight that met my eyes
stops my heart..
And then again, in a sudden rush,
it again start.
Pumping hard, and harder still,
it fills me up.
The pressure in me and the heat,
building up..
And in a rush, all at once,
I blow apart..
Once again I was killed
by my heart...

Lo behold!! there I was
born again..
For seconds few or even less,
I was sane...
I looked upon the bloodied parts
all around..
parts of me, was all I saw,
strewn around...
Cut, torn and left to rot,
I saw myself;
A thousand me or maybe more
beyond help...

Down came, out of the blue
a giant knife
and chopped me down, bit by bit,
and took my life..
I felt the pain burning through
with every blow..
I felt the life drain out of me,
reluctantly slow..

And as the pain was overcome
with calm and peace,
and in death's welcoming arms,
I felt at ease,
I was jerked back to life-
made whole again;
and thus goes on, my bloody tale-
the ballad of pain...

A little feather shed by a bird and carried on by the wind. They never knew nor shall in the future, that their little task has made a man smile.
The bird may not even have noticed, as it cleansed lazily, that this feather has parted from it forever. As for the wind, it would have been oblivious to the burden as it flew in through my window.
As the feather lay there on my bed, lost in an unfamiliar terrain, it caught my eye. The very sight brought a smile upon my lips. A tiny glimpse of nature glowing bright from among the artificial and man-made..
It filled in me a hope – an optimism, a bit if faith. The very realisation that there still are things left, that are pure and untouched by human hands, made me smile.
My first thought was to treasure it.. to keep it as a reminder – a guiding light. And then I thought otherwise..
I took the feather gently, careful not to damage it, walked out and placed it on the earth, where it belong, for I feared that in my room, among my stuff it would eventually loose it’s purity.
As for me, the memory of those few moments would suffice. At least as long as I encounter a similar or hopefully a better glimpse.
Until then I shall move on, trying to keep the memory of the feather alive..

-joker-

The boy in the box

At last, I have my space;
My world for me to build..
Small but large enough,
My kingdom for me to build…
Miles and miles, in an arm’s length;
Untouched, untaunted-
A land of joy and peace,
With a little moor- haunted…
My dreams and hopes,
I shall hide,
In this little space;
The kingdom of a child…

No bills to pay,
No worldly worries..
No fights, no quarrels,
No blind hurries…
In here I shall live
As long as possibly can..
For a day shall come
When I walk out a man…
And then like a mule,
Burdened by all,
I shall move ahead,
Walk, run… fumble till I fall…
Blind I shall walk
In a maze unknown;
As others reap
What I had sown…
I shall watch,
Cold and numb,
As my dreams,
In piles they dump…
I shall love,
Hope and trust,
And then watch them
Trampled in the dust…

I dread that day
When I shall leave,
This little box
Where the real I live…
But for now
I won’t fret,
Coz that day ain’t here;
No… not yet…

I shall build a world
Where not a tear
Shall ever be spilled;
Where only ghosts, I fear…
Here I shall rule,
A world untaunted;
A land of joy and peace
With a little moor haunted…

-joker-