Poem: That which Burns

Posted: October 20, 2013 in Scribble
Tags: , , , , , , ,

The answer
to the distant call
is deep within the secret
that you bury in the forgotten
realm of deception,
which you painted
with your indecisiveness.

High on red wine,
tipsy with insobriety,
thinking much too loudly
about things that makes no sense
with music drumming
in my head.

War is ahead, war is ahead.
I see visions of fatality
blinding me night after night
of what’s to come
in bloodshed and in tears.

My eyes are punctured
with nets that capture
my heart and drowns my soul.
I’ve had enough of premonitions
but I do not navigate
the wheels of misfortune.

My ears are flushed with readiness,
and my hands are clenching weapons
of frustration and liberation.
I am high on spirituality
as I marched towards
the never ending quest
into the unknown.

And there’s no stopping
when they come.
Oh, how they will come
without scent or sight
but that which burns
in the fires that know not control.


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