Tuesday, August 9, 2011


The argot was arcane

That left me desolate

Why they inflict pain

Why brethren they hate

Once called as blood

That flowed in the veins

Now flows as a flood

Leaving crimson stains

Trust too easily betrayed

In our pleasant world

Weak often are preyed

And into oblivion hurl’d

‘tis the big brother’s day

To harass the meek

The mighty devils slay

Then justice seek

In the high prison walls

Innocent prisoner cries

Cries sighs and falls

Till blood in him dries

The voice of the just

Unheard in the noise

That kills it as the rust

Even iron destroys

Pallid faces in sorrow

Colored in grief, deep

Wait if tomorrow

Happy sun does peep

‘Had some one been bold’

Has been by its use

A cliché grown old

Leaving no excuse

A dead slowly stinks

And is lost to clay

Some change in winks

Some with a delay

Time will always heal

Sometimes late sometimes soon

So shall it unveil

Butterfly from a cocoon.

1 comment:

Jose Varghese said...

This is so powerful that I am transformed by the time I reach the end. I love your choice of words and flow of thoughts. Look forward to reading a lot more poems by you!