Whirlwind

Limbless hollow:
A cantankerous purveyor
of vehicular artefacts, flowing thunderously
in a god-like fury,
that confounds even the conveyed.

Me, gutless?

An enigmatic whiplash,
with an inert rage strolling skywards
in frenzied circles,
all consuming, all encompassing.

Or, is it true?

I, who swim
in the oceans of the wind,
listening to the martyr’s silent screams.
Do you remember the one-legged masquerade
at the market square, whose shadow flees
into seizures while chanting rhapsodies of blood?
My liquid womb flew into a rapturous rhythm,
while the gatekeeper mourned the lame martyr’s betrothal.
A new resolve was born that evening.
Never will the loin of the hunter king go hungry again.

An ode to a recluse!

Like candlesticks in a celestial palace,
I stood guard of his cascading waters.
The orphan knows me.
You dare not ask him!
I’m his friend.

The slumber of the weary wayfarer,
his makeshift hovels and battered spirits.
I think he knows me.
Please don’t ask him!
I’m his friend. Yes I am!

My fiery breath, whispers of horror.
The fire in his bosom, of course I am!
Well, you could ask the distressed;
but please, not the mother.
I’m his friend, the mother knows.

My ancestors; they dare not try,
for I dance at their expense,
I come into the market place, even they flee.
I’m their friend.
They dare not say no!

The heavy blow that sent the man reeling,
causing subtle ones to feast on him.
My fingers, red hot embers, Oh! how I soothe?
My soul crypt, their pilgrim’s welcome.
What else?… Yes! they all owe me.
The bond of friendship.

Like play! Like play!!

The tyranny of a soldier,
right at the market square.
Bloody civilian! Come here!
How dare you touch me?
My uniform, so sacred.
From cap to my shoe sole,
naught was there without reason.
A slap.
A kick.
Another slap.
Another kick.
Another…
Another…
Severe pound of mortal flesh.
Khaki mauling unlimited,
not without its attendant ”Sorry Sir!”
The dumb’s plea to the blind.
Blood.
Gushing waters!
Blood.
Dripping, gushing.
Gushing! Dripping!
Cascading waters into distant seas.
Like play, like play.
Sudden collapse.
No! A faint,
Deathly hush.
Like play.

Heartcry!

At a friend’s mum’s funeral…

Yesterday!
It was twilight at dawn.
The sky tumbled,
the stars bled from the hearts.
Poor old woman!
She went wild in the patter of rain.
Her tumbled heart in convulsive gasps,
as she forces a joke to make amends.
“Once upon a joke” she said amidst tears and sighs.
The rhythm finally subsides as the cock crows.
It was the stars, then the milky way.
Agonizing heads in discordant symphony.
The claustrophobic atmosphere of darkness;
the agony of going over the brink into the limbo of time,
tearing through the flesh of her soul.

Caught in the throb of the drum.
shackled to the blood-stained chasm of oblivion,
she whispered to her lonely self.
“We don’t say goodbye in my city’
Yes! We don’t say goodbye.
And our final epilogue bound by this harsh law,
forever bask in the eloquence of silence.