See the flood
Human faces
Overlapped
Unfocused, misaligned
Yet one that fell like a shining coin
Average to some but among many, unique
For most, just a random sonnet that was forgotten
For one, a narcissist who spurned affection.
Still through inadvertent
Darwinian grace
There remained a casual symmetry
Framed carefully within the dissolution of my mind.
This inchoate mass of trash and twisted pillars
Once it was a temple of silver and gold
A river sang and washed its stones.
But without warning or annunciation
Hurled on the ides of March
In semblance of retribution
To crippled Caesar render thus: a wrecking ball.
The inevitable and distracted collapse
An arbitrary destruction of something once beautiful, now mangled
Ink slashed image by an impatient architect,
Irritated by a ineffable malaise and distinct ennui,
Eager to leave work for an early dinner.
Human skin, now marred by acid.
Small rabbit hopes that hid from long teeth
Deer with toothpick legs that fled
Yet a heavy fist, a dull stare
Relentless in motion, absent of emotion
Oblivious to scream of pain,
The wriggling to get away-
Paints her nails and styles her hair
Twists limbs for a slow fracture
The sound of splintering wood
She goes to the gym and texts her friend.
Small dreams
Survivors of plagues and holocausts
Flung away casually
Raped on every seam.
Moth that fluttered towards the light
Caught by methodical fingers
Under indifferent and distracted eyes,
Wing from wing- pulled apart,
The careful placement of a finger for a burst abdomen.
Stars fell, shatter on pavement stones
Streetlights once that glowed
Glass shards in the dark lie scattered.
This earth of mine sings a song of blood and sin
But it has a certain beauty that only truth may bring.
Give me this cup of sorrow, so I may drink
Today will forever be the past, cursed is my tomorrow.
At nightfall,
When sun falls and muslims sing their prayer call
I will drink my Vodka and sit by my window,
Watch Soldiers laugh and talk as they walk below.
If my soul was only vexed, than life I could live.
Yet, though I breathe and see the world,
My heart lies stripped and pale
Plundered under a setting sun.
It is a fallen bird, black against winter snow.
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