Earth,
that fine, pneumatic
piece of gem from space,
bulbous, bluish with
the hand of beauty
adorned with furry clouds,
yet in closer sense lies
senseless to internal
doom.
Dark frame of mind ensconces frontiers
with a blanched dapple of strife.
Hell is let loose on Desert,
bewildered by new griefs of a listless heaven.
Camels hit by flame-tailed arrows
soothe their flayed humps;
other alien beasts hone in one stretch of prayer,
reminding God of the promise of Rainbow.
The prepuce of Desert reclines and
peels off, revealing the whiteness of Death....
......
I couldn’t be more sure
Of all the nostalgia I’d endure,
If I were to explore
A calf love crisis
That was so hard to cure,
How your mummy, she knew mine,
They’d been friends
For a little time,
And the time that you explained,
......
Yesterday reclines on the tenuous
breath of ancestral drums,
and summons protocols for the crowning
of tomorrow.
A martinet, yonder, celebrates the sepia
aura in the spine of the vista of the last days;
atavism unfetters the imprecation of hastening
Dawns.
And angels lengthen azure apparels,
......
Deluge aftermath
lies on a pyre of laughter —
sardonic laughter —
holocryptic in its litter of
charms and pangs of incense.
Deluge aftermath
swears oaths of allegiance to
waning day, refraining from
tales of calm and religious prescience;
......
Between the altar
and the belfry of the village cathedral,
an ancestral differenceꓽ age-long toll of the bell
and
historic quiet —
all to measure the heartbeat of man
and ascertain the valour in him.
It's wartime, we are sadly reminded!
The sounds of bombs come with both
Heart-cracking noise and necropolis-silence.
......
There’s this phrenology we were taught when the
World still had her intestines intactꓽ when the skull mounds
Up on the forehead —the sinciput of grace —
It is a head of crisis.
Like the new moon, a New Crisis has risen above us.
Darkness mumbles loud words, of a swarm of
Ridiculous locusts, which has pillaged our fields,
Harming every single blade,
Runcinated and monstrous to the eyes
......
Calm.
Grinding gently the ingredients of patience.
The somnolent waves mourn.
There are no tunnels under the seas,
But vistas cut open through
Creeping lights foreshadowed by the
Debris of epochal wrecks.
Calm.
......
Snooze of peace reigned on a collage
of sacred impulse for serenity of shelter —
bower-girthed and soul-inundated —
but along the line, a stampede, peccant
and harlotic,
framed the sun.
Yesterday reclines on the tenuous
breath of ancestral drums,
and summons protocols for the crowning
of tomorrow.
A martinet, yonder, celebrates the sepia
aura in the spine of the vista of the last days;
atavism unfetters the imprecation of hastening
Dawns.
And angels lengthen azure apparels,
......