THE HUMAN ANVIL

Tag: chance

  • Pillars


    I have seen Heroes
    Shinning alone on the battlefield
    Sword bare in bloodied hands
    Hiding tears behind their shield
    And the poets who wrote of courage
    Knew not from those sunlit tower
    That all wars are fought by them
    Who has no ounce of power

    I have seen Teachers
    Cradling books in their velvet hand
    Certain of the wisdom beneath the words
    That the world fails to withstand
    And the pupils who stay blind
    And believe in it all
    Are kept to learn the truth
    Nailed as paintings upon the wall

    I have seen Kings
    Holding heaven in their earthly palms
    Dive deep in the selfish seas
    And make fist while breathing alms
    And the people who praise the lord
    For the health of the dear monarch
    Knows not that the hand which feeds
    Is the one that lays the nark

    I have seen Saints
    Swimming in the grey, tepid pool alone
    And where hundreds had fallen
    The saints could never drown
    A miracle that belonged to them
    Not by the blessings of the Throne
    But because of the fact that the misery
    Was not of their own

  • The Lost Sense of Bewilderment

    Jayson Hinrichsen @ unsplash

    I wonder if life would have been the same
    If I had but a different name
    As common as the monsoon rain
    Somewhere between John and Jane

    I wonder who would have called me close
    Gifted whiskey or a blood red rose
    Shared laughter with a list of woes
    And left me where the west wind blows

    I wonder if I would have been happy more
    Being a seashell on a shallow shore
    Drunk with madness like never before
    Following the echo of my silent roar

    I wonder if I would have lived long
    Sang a chorus in some choir song
    Before in life it all went wrong
    For now I am but not where I belong…

  • Streetside Socrates

    Flesh and light
    Bone and stone
    Are same, similar; a synonym
    Of everything

    I gazed into the night
    Fragmented by the city lights
    Knifing the dreams dead in their tracks

    Scalped thoughts
    Hanging from the cumerbund
    Of the comedian
    Laugh with the wind

    There is no framework for fame
    Nietzsche is not a name
    And all that I know of shame
    Came from the fingers that blame;
    Et tu?
    Fuck you
    Bad words don’t exist
    At all
    For thoughts know not their origin
    But only the sin
    Of being
    The way they are

    Broken mirrors
    Cannot mend the man
    And broken man
    Never has a mirror

    Everything is going to disappear soon
    And the leftover void shall know
    There is nothing known as nothingness
    For even in silence the silence shall grow

  • Perdu

    Once I wrote a poem
    The perfect one
    For those who cannot read
    It had, commas, at all the right, places,
    And no exclamation mark!
    Or operose words one does not know
    Or any rhyme to ruin the bitter flow
    If only I had been able to see
    The invisible ink
    I would never have used the poem
    As a tissue paper