The crowd...

Brick by brick,
They laughed,
Some were made of copper and some of gold,
Brick by brick,
They dismissed,
The secret universe being constructed right behind their backs...

This universe contained secrets,
Intertwined in each others miseries,
This universe contained confessions,
Which shall never be told aloud,
This universe had deep viscous mires,
Trespassers would be persecuted if they chose to enter...

The world before us was hidden,
Though it was dancing merrily right behind our backs,
We chose to ignore as they chose to hide,
They chose to cover their ears,
When the music was too loud,
They finally turned their backs to their backs...

Behold, here is a new world,
Before you enter we might slit your throat,
Just so that you can see this illusion in another dimension,
If only you may help us wash away the blood,
Then burn any liberty you have left,
To constrict you to these four walls..

Now that you have entered our universe,
Let us make you imbibe the magic potion of negativity,
It will kill you soul as it kills you,
Only to help you blend in with natures design,
Once you're done you're one of us now,
You just one hunter in the pack..

You need to shift your visions and dreams,
Away from this universe,
So that it can thrive there,
Shift it away before we kill it,
Using the darkness within the light,
Now you're one of us and you're dreams aren't..

Let the demons and jinns walk you through,
Just so that you can't run back,
Just in case you want your dreams back,
Let them disillusion you,
If you break away,
You shall be blissfully ostracized as we watch and laugh..    

Faux Pas...

As midnight had opened its doors,
We entered the fortnight of denial,
Greeted by midgets of placidity,
That writhed in vain,
The entourage of illusions of prosperity...

Little percussions of euphoria,
Walks hopelessly in the clouds of treachery,
Witnessed by the solemn territory of our gait,
On this very nonchalant Earth,
Shelters the inhabitants that delude themselves for the spite of elevation...

In this very kingdom of appeal,
A flaw is the bastard child of the will of perfection,
Born with vain,
Borne within lies,
Glamorises the dark deeds of the living...

Peace is the truce of strain,
Complacent solace with the fire of mankind,
A sin left behind thrives to follow,
Until it rests in the cavern of the relative afterlife...

Painting by Vladimir Kush.