Darkest winter

Darkest winter night as I fumbled blind for weeds,

spent scorching days in passion and lazy fashion,

now as poison gripped I fight to nourish my seeds,

manured these weeds I fight, lured by false vision;

end near but had to happen sometime, why not now,

for haphazard toil not given a single fruit of worth,

late now to grow new as unbending time’s bow,

bleeding hands work feverishly to clear field henceforth;

pained for weeds I grew, my only kids and legacy,

why persevere to grow other legacies over mine,

just for the visitors’ unkind valuations, what idiocy,

for though longed flowers these thorns now I pine;

weeds bled with me cruel, this night without sight,

chasing to right perceived wrongs decided by might.

 

 

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Messenger of Death

Splash of red, spill of blood,
what charge, what high,
a mad rush to the brain flood,
quench with blood, lips dry;

first hammer hard with the fist,
to warn the prey,
plunge hard with knife and twist,
if he not sway;

under the orange sun,
or in the black night,
just have your fun,
corrupt law will lose sight;

fear not messenger of death,
born to tear and plunder the earth.

It is that time

It is that time of night where there is no one around,

the streets are deserted and the prowlers take rest,

a silence calmer than the beaches where waves sound,

the cops and robbers alike were now curled in their nest;

in cities fancier there would be bustle around the clock,

not here in this slow snoring dilapidated small town,

people painlessly slumbering inside gates that lock,

yet sleep eludes me in that unearthly hour before dawn;

haven’t slept a wink and painfully dragged time so far,

not grief but excitement about future hopes the culprit,

I rise and smoke, then lie again, then rise, it was like war,

two options, to sleep and rise late, or sleep today quit;

warned not to go out, as evil games await, yet I went out to the roads, 

where normal world ceased, sins and adventures pressed with their codes.

 

Before the night is over

Before the night is over
the world shall kiss my feet,
Drunk on pride, I’ll never be sober,
all pains and sorrows shall beat retreat;

Before the night is over
she should come bowing to me,
beseeching not to be the vengeful lover
I’ll sadistically enjoy it with Glee;

My family, blood relations, friends
shall serve me stooping beneath me,
all dreams true with none that contends
or opposes my anger and cruel decree;

for this is my last night on Earth
towards hell I breathe my last breath.