The Point of Life

Whether it be a fly thee kill, or be it a monster slain by thy righteous hand,

Death in all it's glory is still a sorrowful thing.

The perception is all that matters.

Who knows, the monster might be the avatar of the very gods thee worship.

God plays a game in the queerest of ways, ways we may never understand,

As for that sword you lift, it may be the bane of those you love the most.

Life is a strange phenomenon.

It is the soul that matters.

The ones that tread in light sweat as the sun tires them,

And the moon sends chills down the nighttime traveller,

Filling the mind with horrors with questionable existence.

Yet, we all tread on.

Maybe that is the point of life, to find a point in this spherical object,

Cyclic in nature and spirit, with nothing to lose or gain,

Except that we believe we are attached to.

Revelatory Dream

I fell asleep in the stars one night,

When I couldn’t seem to fight,

The urges of the previous day,

To kill them all, If I may!

The crows caw, the mice all squeal,

Desecrate our life’s show reel!

And murder every dream they say,

For good days are always yesterday!

Our perceptions are all but pale,

Hazed out by that branded ale,

Made by TV sets in every room,

Media bastions, mediocrity bloom!

And as I type from memories,

On this machine made overseas,

I realise we’re all but dead,

In a time that has come not yet.

Forlorn

Is there nothing for me

To see here on my journey

Is the world so blinded

By the norms of our humanity?

The darkness seems to scare me

And the light is full of clarity

Yet we hide within the shadows

Of our own society

The lamps that guide us will fade

And extinguish with time today

As we all move amongst the lot

To pave the way for yesterday

The waves of energy holy

That phases with melancholy

Will one day be there no more

Leaving us in our insanity

Prevailing will be anarchy

Full of people such as you and me

With weapons of our conscience

We will strive to save humanity

Apocalypse Approaching....

About two weeks have passed.

Pressure and positivity seem to be in the lacking.

Oscillatory motions have begun to recede.

Convulsions and copulations are nothing but sins.

Anarchy is in the making.

Liars and cheaters rule our world.

Yes, it is the sad truth.

Probably this is the worst post yet.

Senseless, yet maybe something worthy.

End is near.

And yet we know it not.

People are dying.

Perfumed radiation.

Reactions are lethargic.

Obviousness is not that obvious.

And Swag meets Yolo for a date.

Common Sense is the most uncommon.

Hungover nights and memory imploding.

Improper life.

Never to be understood.

Good-bye fucktards.

May the Darkness guide you to Your Light!

Doomsday Premonition?

Evil reprises as dirt begins to fade

Love and hatred mate on sand

And burn along with sickle and spade

With worms squiggling with dying filth

And the Demons of dawn succumb

To the spreading of the plagues’ wealth

The blood is dripping from mouths platonic

And eyes are gouging with shame ridden low

Satan laughs as Hell crusades on the catatonic

And life becomes the apocalypse we all awaited for

The Gods are no longer there for us

They committed self-righteous holy suicide

The nectars and waters all filled with pus

As blood flies begin to feast upon our eyes

The day has come for madness to commence

As people will all disappear in the day

Life as we know will come to and end as

The dead will return to rule the realms of us mortals

And we will be no longer existing

As the minds of our selves will guide us to our sepulchers

The Dog

Ever wonder what dogs think of when they stare at the sun?

Their lost families, their old days of fun?

The time they young and in size they were small,

Protected and loved, a litter after all!

And then one by one, each lost its way,

One adopted for love, another given away,

Some find homes, others remain astray

Like that dog who stares

At the ending of another day

But is the day at end?

Or is it her life?

The sun fades away

The day turns to night...

Dead Puppy

So, this is something that I really encountered in my life. I wrote this quite some time back. It isn't the most conventional thing that can invoke a creative piece of of anyone but hey, I'm not like everyone else. I don't know if you'll will get the essence of the poem but when you really think about it, maybe you'll reach closer to what I felt when I saw this cruel scene...

Today I saw a puppy die 
I saw its dead body

I don't know why

I saw it

I saw it dead

Flies buzzing

It was dead and stinking
I don't know why

I saw a dead puppy
So young
Barely a month old
I saw it dead

I don't know why

I saw it dead
A puppy lay dead
And then I understood why

Life is meaningless 

The Known Unknown

Who are you?

The one who talks,

And spreads his words,

Like the oceans red

Who are you,

Who speaks so low?

Yet wants to be heard,

Like the worshipped dead.

Who is it,

That paints the sky,

And burns the moon,

Like the stars’ own sheet?

Who is it,

That kills the silence,

Dreading the shadows,

Of oceans’ deep?

Why must we,

Be torn away,

By lands and laws,

Of men so low?

Why must we,

Embrace what is,

Unbearably wrong,

Like a rigid foe?

Lowly minds,

Lowly hearts,

Are these the ones,

Who kill our souls?

Why must we,

Bow down so low,

To conservativeness,

Of meaningless goals?

Why must we?

Oh! why must we,

Tread in light,

When darkness prevails?

Why is it?

What is it?

That runs your life?
When your mind fails?

The Death of Death

Somewhere in the darkness there was,

A man so dead, a rotting corpse.

And with it were the maggots clean,

Feasting on the blood meat lean.

As time passed by the bones came out,

And all the whispers became a shout,

And Death came by with an evil grin,

To wipe the dead ones of their sin.

But the corpse so dead was missing now,

And no one knew of when and how,

So Death for search of it does go,

In the highest mountains and lowest low,

Till it found what it was to see,

The dying corpse of Death it be!

Existential

What is it that keeps us going on?

Is it the curiosity of the next moment?

Or is it the reward we have been dying to achieve?

The springing happiness or the end of sorrow,

The lively smiles of long dead ones!

What is it that makes us live in this orderly chaos?

What is it that we tread on in light when our goals lie in darkness?

Why must we live on terms of other people?

When we are the only ones who know ourselves the most!

What is it that is running in your head right now?

Is it about the Life we live?

Or is it about the Death we desire?