It is trite that elephants collide with vigour,
But only the grass suffers
Nay, grasshoppers have no respite
The food chain remains one for feasting on;
Only this is a different kind of feasting.
Welcome to the dungeon, a hell of a cell,
Where the only break outs
Are the ones where dead bodies of inmates
Are hurled out like a discus
Symbolic of how they suffered in circles
The dungeon is more or less a circus
And inmates, the subject of dark humour.
Not long ago, there was no dungeon.
Now, the inmates' home has been ransacked,
Upturned, into a pitiable, deplorable cell.
In the abode that once knew peace,
Albeit a different kind
Imagine a meadow in winter, in a cold war.
The elephants are like hail- scratch that:
Deities hailed that bless us with hail,
Descending arrows of a disintegrated moon;
Amidst the chaos, they descend in gory glory.
Oh, how resplendent the disorder!
How thunderous their landing!
How pleasing, sweet-smelling the sacrifice!
For soon, the grass and all that is within
Will be unearthed.
Behold, the prisoners of an unending war,
Whose only rescue is internal displacement.
YOU ARE READING
Velvetrip
PoetryVelvetrip is a multi-layered, intricately written collection of fifteen poems, which address the following themes, among others: Moral Ambiguity, Entitlement, Pride, Peace, Cowardice, Conflict, Greed, Social Crisis, Nostalgia, Rediscovery, Revival...
