The last laugh...

The martyrs have weaken their stance, 

Subconsciously intimidated by the days of only wounds ahead,

Only moments to go until the march to glory,

The provinces of gold had intoxicated  them to the point of the sleep of reclusion...

The breeds of higher order have now not a reason to opine,

They begin their day with the solace of futility,

Commence to a voice of bigotry,

Until a different kind of transition...

For letters written in blood,

Have been defeated by the words inscribed in bonds,

Seldom acquainted with the world of gossip,

Placidly waiting in the numerous post offices of decay...

The time had begun for the fancy air of romance,

I will gift you a kiss if you please,

Embodied with the spirit of youth and glamour,

Made to suit carnal whims and mundane woes...

I shall wait for the end of your crude fantasy,

Which shall be made to sleep upon my arrival,

Awakened when I am away,

Which shall continue to torment you as you twitch and turn in your grave,

But not for too long...

Let me feed you copper candy,

So very fierce and inedible,

Let me occupy your senses with the scent of my love,

Superficial enough to slip away...

No impact has been as great,

As great as my non- existent significant other,

Who took me back to the rustic air of childhood,

As I grew many steps away from naivety...

Very few roots of passion have traced back,

The rest have faded away with the night,

Trampled on with time,

Burdened by mortality,

Just to suit the flow to the last laugh...

Hollow wallow

This dungeon is strange,
With a passage of grey,
Artless shadows that hover in its very essence,
The creek of life and death is so narrow,
To live this eccentric analogy...

Crops of disintegration were sown in the soil of the beast,
While my flower got rotten in utter disgust,
His stem wasn't enough to comfort me,
There's only an angle of depression from here...

I shall osculate this nutrition,
Introspection for the agriculturist and philosophers,
I shall assimilate all its power,
I want to cease the fire of resurrection...

Deep beneath our mother,
There is this magnet,
This core of civilisation,
Waiting to be elevated to the celestial ocean...

The salt of the waters of immersed fate,
That explores this crystal,
It can cast hate,
The germs that can battle for the crucifiction of dawn...

Wind that has gone deeper into the hollow,
While the lights want to battle sorrow,
While a different casket opened the casket to another world,
But then a shadow was left to wallow...

Picture from the net- ( amazingonly.com )

The drift...

For all the hermits in the world,
Do you whirl in peace or penury ?
While I seek to know if you exist,
Of each strand of your hair that unites to create your soulful existence,
Of your illicit pain...
You're all a part of my ilk when we're on the same path,
When your heart is idle in the monastery of your mind,
In an idyll painting,
For you can't be too obdurate while avoiding the drift...

Sugar baby love...

He was bleeding rage,
Crying isolation across the lake,
Such a good looking guy,
Never thought about until he saw seduction rise,
For even the weaker have gone ahead...

Who would have thought about his protuberant vain?
Today he's alone facing the wrath of the rain,
His laughter leads him to sly love,
His baritone voice voice leads them damsels to alive and kicking lust,
Now he dwells in a distorted city,
He masked this royal parade...

He wants water,
Maybe a little slaughter,
He wants to seize time,
This ignominious sadist wants a sonnet that rhymes,
He wants some elevation,
But did he know he grew fond of monotony?

Picture from the net- ( flickr.com)

Tears...

Fast asleep.
Dreams behind the swollen lids of heavy eyes,
She begins to weep,
She bids farewell to the Scott soldier with bagpipes.

A brave soul,
On a brave steeds back,
Restless bones,
An unfathomed track.

An unfathomed track,
He will be the one to discover,
On a brave steeds back,
What about her?

Dreams of fear,
Dreams of hope,
One last tear,
How many steps home?

As he creates melodies extracted from the soul of his bagpipes,
As he follows his quest,
Will he come home to kiss swollen eyes,
Or will he come home to rest?

Picture from the net- ( digital-photography-school.com )