EXILE


44

It was Not a heart beating
On the night-shift, for it always does that
It was not the chill of memory
Not the blood in the ears
Of Fate, it was the nativity
Of time confounded by
How inept the hours felt
In the Silver factory of the void
There were indefatigable facts
That drove in the company
Of self-judgement, that seemed
Extraordinarily bright in the quiet
Night, and my heart circled
The Shadows before a rising sun.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Cloudz-451854121

EMPIRE OF INTERRUPTIONS


10

Those who have been without the longest
Thou who have Craved the Most!
Those that know their lives begin Today

Equally to perish in the wishes
Of the present’s Practice
Death to ourselves is a White Exploit

That even Cherished Goals fade
The annuls of the years transform
With symbols of fixed Delight

Retrospection, doubt, anticipation
Those who once knew Themselves
Must start again, as Achieving
Is a Latitude, with no Umpire Sovereign.

I Laid my Boyhood’s Head On The Pillow made for One


Don't Forget Me

With careful fragments I’ve built
A shredded identity, pillaged by hope
Ransacked by heart-break

I’ve customized my grief
To the rapture of my outlaw-state
In glowing morning I feared

Being left, and prophesized abandonment
In which my very atoms
In the cosmic mirror, were scattered

I couldn’t help martyrhood
Like the shell of my grandmother in me
How we give our power away

And how those authorities contrive
To judge our worth, in quick months
Of evolutionary design, bitter comments

That I remember to this day
About the kind of man I am
With careful foolishness I betrayed

The self, that wanted to join in marriages the most
A wild execution of the simplicity
That marked me from my childhood

Of having been raised in poverty
Boycotted from those simple joys
I am a frenzied bargain of dreaming cheeks
Without the spice of wonderful confidence.