Amaranthine; a blog of original poetry

 I see silhouettes of soldiers run by Over the orange background; Burning lightly Over melting branches, And roofs kissing the earth. I see silhouettes of soldiers run by, Stepping over some blackened pot, Some, Some doll once beautiful now different With melting eyes And swirling limbs… Like a human dropped from a building, With his hands and feet in all directions… I see silhouettes of soldiers run by, And I run to join them. I see quiet kids and loud adults, I see kisses, I see veins thrown upon the windows, The iron bars, A flower still white and smiling Amid the grey wreck. I see silhouettes of soldiers run by, And I join them…

 I see a ladybug on the petal, Moving like a red old Volkswagen  On a bumpy road, Over twigs and fallen leaves Which jump onto the sides… Not out of respect Like soldiers on either sides, Bowing to the king… But to avoid being grinded under those wheels; Wheels without their rubber hoodies, Scratching the skin of the road To kill it Bit by bit… The car itself is dead; A ghost, Riding around with no driver, But only a radio in the back seat That plays the happy birthday song Everyday… I saw a ladybug on a petal, Moving like an old Volkswagen Which moves on its own Only after death…

  I bought color pencils And drew the sunset like a real artist; I can hear my bird’s chirp, And feel my mountains go warm on one side As little rays grip the rocks Like climbers who have lost their footing, Holding on for dear life... Eventually letting go and falling Until the rocks go cold And the grass sleeps in the cool purple wind… I bought color pencils And drew the sunset like a real artist, Immersing myself in it. Yet, I’m scared. What if they steal it? This masterpiece, This diamond in a coal mine, This knockout, This victory… I’m scared. What if they steal it? So I rush to it And find it in the hands of a child Resembling me. I find it in the hands of a child With a black crayon... Drawing black lines over my masterpiece. I rush to grab it. “Stay back!” he cries. “I drew wires so those who try to take it Get electrocuted.” I laugh. I thought I was smarter now… How I’m wrong!

  I see a gentleman Reduced  to a pair of lips in the dark, Smoking a cigar; It’s blue smoke only visible When it reaches the shaft of light That creeps in through the gap in the curtains… I see a gentleman Dressed in bow and hat, But never going out To make the ladies laugh at trivial things, To make an infant cry with his stern face, To see the children play While pretending to read the newspaper, Holding it upside down… I see a gentleman Often looking out through the windows, Trapped within himself In a place darker than the room around him… Able to see everything, But not observe… Able to see everything, But not feel… For he is trapped in his coat, Which has no skin to do so…

 I go to the stream to meditate And get distracted By the gargling rocks; Forever sick, Being ripped off the moss… Going bald everyday; Bald like a vulture On the lookout for prey To fall on its knees like an impailed bull; A sack of muscle conquered, A Gulliver tied down by little people For the time being, Until it finds strength; Lifting its muscular arm, Flinging the rope, The sand, The people… It lifts its muscular arm And grabs its mighty hammer To strike the clouds And make thunder… I go to the stream to meditate And get distracted By the gargling rocks; Forever sick, For the water is fresh And has no salt…

  There is light at the end of the tunnel, And we run for it Like stallions in a dark forest Emerging from yellow mist, Needing no knight to whip our necks. There is light at the end of the tunnel, And we run for it Through marshes, Snow, And our own dust… With red eyes, And starved thighs suddenly muscular, With bones wrapped in blue veins That pulse and pulse With every stride… Coming out of our own dust Like heavenly warriors With hammers And wings of steel, Looking through the clouds At the world below To keep themselves entertained… Because all the world’s a circus And the people are merely clowns…