"We shall not cease from exploration and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started
and know the place for the first time." (T S Eliot)
"A dark and chanted verse is what I am." (
Forough Farrokhzad)

Saturday, January 25, 2014

BUTCHERED

As the night light slinks around all the walls
Of my fortress built of loss and forfeit,
And the fragrant rain beats on my windows,
I will yearn for sleep and quiet comfort.

I scare myself so much at times like these
That my exhausted heart becomes so old
And beats with rhythms of a shattered drum
For the times that it’s been both bought and sold.

I had once hoped for a woman’s kind warmth
But there’s none left to quash my nervous sighs,
Or calm me as I dream and scream ripostes
To all their rumours and their bad-mouthed lies.

A time will come when all will be cast off
And baying crowds will slay another soul
Whose trust and faith were butchered and buried
While the good and worthy measured the hole.


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