Picture poetry


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The Illusionist

The Illusionist Dwelling in the tangled labyrinth is the rover, In the realm of time and space an eternal wanderer, The inventor of innumerable creators, Having the shape of their creators And codes of life, mutable always, Suiting the beastly humane ways. Where the hell is the hell? In the abyss like well with corpses' smell Or the complex nerve cell Where all evils dwell. To once reach heaven Never do those seven. The heaven and those seven, Mere cookies baked in his oven. How did the imaginary lines that divide Relatives, contingent on where they abide And twenty-four and sixty slices Of the earth's spin come to life? After this grand illusion He too started living in delusion.
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Immoral Beings

Immoral Beings Why has God given us eyes? To see good things. Why has God given us ears? To hear good things. Why has God given us brain? To think good things. Why is it so? Because it is given by God? No. No. Definitely not. The ones whose livelihood is God, Needs us to not to see, hear, and think Beyond what secures the concept, God, As it will make their treasury shrink. The eyes, ears and brains, given by God Won't see beyond. We HAVE eyes to see, We HAVE ears to hear, We HAVE brain to think, Both good and bad. Only then we can rebel, Rebel against the circus trainer Who cages us to perform for his gain In this giant circus tent.
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The Severed Tongue

The Severed Tongue The silenced has a language, A powerful, peerless language. Each one has a tongue of their own, The one, along with them have grown, With undiscovered words that surpass The language of elite class. A language, not of elite class, And thus unfamiliar to the mass. A language forged out of experiences Unfamiliar to the mass that seeks differences. Yet in your language, we seek expression, The language that has treated our experiences with oppression.
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