Saturday, February 16, 2013

The world aghast, once kith n kin
Faces many move around, some foes, some allies
The chains that bind together, now also strangles to death,
And the kith and kin wear the mask of bare cut throat filth n sin.

The nights shadows, as stories said,
The dark is eerie, pitch scary and dead,
The ghosts in the bushes will choke your breath
And tear you apart into pieces, spread flesh, bones and blood…

The stories are not mere tales oh Dear!
The tales have taken life, breathing toxin and nails to tear
It will strangle, smother, throttle, and leave us pushed down, devastated.
And will laugh behind, mocking, as though our hands would not rise up, defeated.

Ah! That is now gone, the days when the mind fails,
As the anger, unjust, disorder, all cumulate and hit the brim of our throat, hail!
We would scream, hands risen, the power now, enormous, the mockers shall fear
the masks shall be torn off, scattered into pieces, those mocking faces, of power, ruthless power…

the young are the silent, silent like the dormant volcano,
erupting shall destroy, together or in bits, the growing injustice,
that is still mounting, like a racing horse, callous rulers with the rider,
Oh You, rulers, shall you realize, the world shall change, and your filthy masks shall be burnt!



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