Digital Salvation

Sitting up in front of the console at the unearthly hour
Fingers fidgeting on the keyboard in anticipation
thoughts running down dreaded dark tunnels
Will she reply back with those
Three little words I so want to read?
Or will she ignore me and message never more?
A cold sweat breaks upon my forehead,
As I see her tab on the taskbar blink
My shivering hand grasps the mouse
The click sounding louder than a nuclear blast
A hot held up breath escapes my sweaty nostrils
As the words i wished for stand boldly printed
‘Yes I do’
This is my digital salvation

Banish Foul Chronos

why be ye ruled by chronos?
that snivelling squealer of old.
with beady eyes set above his craggy nose,
he fumes whilst in peace thee snore.
tis him, that treacherous half-wit,
that every morn tauntest thy sweet mother
to deprive from thee each extra minute,
beyond thy set hours of slumber.
He that gave life to chronos,
what runneth in his mind then?
didst he not halt to ponder,
the curse he wouldst unleash on men?
alas, the simpleton ne'er pondered thus,
his invention hadst shrouded his mind.
gagged his soul from speaking out,
loosening the reins that held the beast inside.
Hence now ye stand at the mercy of chronos,
the fiend that maketh the laws.
When thou shalt rise or thou shalt slumber,
tis his call to decide.
why shoudst we remain in this fashion?
canst we not rebel?
to return to days of the virgin world,
when life was ruled by sun and moon alone.
to whenst no devilish face upon the wall shone
with twelve scars and two revolving limbs.
that from within bellowed the orders of chronos,
scurrying folks on preordined chores.
join me now my fellow men
and let us war against this fiend.
for peace and bliss for us to relish,
dependest on banishing foul chronos.

The Ghost Who Walks

Deep in the heart of Bengala
Where the Bandar pygmies reside
Lies a cave fashioned by Gaya
In the likes of a human skull
In its dark mysterious entrails
Lay treasures hidden from avaricious eyes
And a dark keeper to watch over the earth
Masked and clothed in the colour of night
A broad black belt of leather
Hugs his waist with pride
Held by a buckle of solid metal
Death’s head on it styled
At his hips in menacing holsters
Nestle handguns ready to blaze
His most powerful weapons lay silent
On his fingers on either hand
On his right the ring of Death’s head
To mark villains for eternity
On his left the ring of Swastika
To mark folk under the ghost’s protection
And thus he sits on a throne of stone
His faithful hound Devil by his side
As his keen ears stay receptive
To heed when the helpless cry

Far in the distant jungle tom-toms resound alert
The keeper they call ‘Ghost Who Walks’
Stirs with deadly alert
With a swift stride he mounts Hero his white steed
Beware villains and enemy of men
Here comes ‘The Man Who Cannot Die’
Wrong doers and law breakers everywhere
You can run but you cannot hide
For not only is he lord of the virgin jungles
Through concrete jungles too he rides
Disguised in a dark trench coat
He strolls under the name of Walker
Appearing at the appointed hour
From the shadows to take evil by surprise
He is 400 years old the legend says
And will live forever through time
For as long as evil on earth exists
He will never age or stop doing his bit

Through the hearts of bad men fear though he drives
He is not blind or numb to love
For in a warm corner of his vengeful heart
An angel’s image resides
Diana Palmer his destined bride
And queen to rule by his side

Though by many names he walks the earth
He is known by all folk good or bad
For whenever the delicate balance stirs
The Phantom from the shadows will rise.

To She

I can't be a saint, I wont be a sinner,
I'll only be me, and that's your lover.
You fathom friendship, I deduce deeper,
You claim it's affection, but I am already a weeper.
You had a choice and you chose right.
It's my fault that i face this plight.
You're not to blame, you never did sway,
It's entirely my fault for not keeping it at bay.
Alas! i have said it, and ruined you most.
Cursed neither with friendship nor nuptial toast.
It's only right that you despise my soul,
There is nothing i can now expect in whole.
I am happy for you and what'll become of your life.
I hope you remember me and my meaningless strife.
It's come to this, sad but true.
No more can I be anyone more than a who.
You've gained your desires, your future's bright blue.
For me though, in a different way, it's all blue too.
With what's left of me this love song i write.
Knowing this is the first and last time it'll ever be sung right.

The Song That's All Wrong

Crimson roses on the lawn, your
rubber touch for they long
booger stained naked fingers, cause
morbid fear that shrivel their tender petals
death untimely you curse them with, through
disco memories of last nights bliss, when
roach he did touching you there
white your cheeks turned with baffled stare
red his face grew, his innocence revealed
black your heart felt, not accepting his need
blue his eye turned, you punched him there
heights of wrath were stripped naked and bare
cuts and bruises he carried back
blood on his shirt advertised there unaware
imagine if he hadn’t made his move then
allies you’d have been without a care, but
matches are not made in heaven alone
fire resides above ground, not just below
reject you did, his advances were wrong
silver were his unspoken promises and
gold his unsung song
armor of just, you did wear, when
sleep together he suggested there
eternal your hatred grew towards such thought
sunrise will never gaze upon his plot
dawn on him did reality then, that the night’s
moon would jeer at him ever since then
used he felt for all the years he spent
panic took over and apologies he lent
music grew louder fading his words
light grew dimmer as the party began to disburse
dark the night outside did laugh
chaos broke out in your tender heart
takeout this pain to the skies you yelled
unwritten words marked your spout
law you felt should strongly be held
blink you must not when delivering a spell
guns went off resounding your wrath
roses you tended grew weary at last
avenged you left him wounded and hurt
sometimes it’s just to do as is must
alone now you walked back cursing the fact
die he must you wished for his act
scars that you gave will last him forever
insomniacs watched while you did enact
abandoned by love you behaved then thus
obsession you thought of his warm caress
fall in your sight he did by his act, and
bite like serpent he was ministered at last
anarchy of feelings he had displayed, the
arsonist in you he had awakened
crazy it is now, when you think of it, while
music from your transistor breaks into a yell

thus tending your crimson roses, this morn
you wonder if what you did was wrong

Unglued

Born in one piece
To be shattered amiss
Again and again
The abuse repeats
One single tube
Of icky stuff
Persistence limited
Till the last sticky glob
Endurance unshaken
To last the night
Bed wet again
Eyes red shot throughout
A well trodden path
A last promise still fresh
But again and again
The path seduces
Back on the track
To be trodden upon again
All that knowledge
All that was learnt
Forgotten in a wink
An inviting smile
A familiar discomfort
Building up warmth
A shorter span than before
Back on the street
Dazed at the result
Unwilling to accept
Shattered again
For the nth time
Pieces now so small
It will take time
There’s still some glue left
Though the tube’s growing thin
This time it will hold
No more straying bold
Another pretty face
Another angelic smile
Back in the queue
Waiting familiar fate
Another fling shorter than last
Broken at the end
Even worse than the last
Shattered again now
Broken several times over
Pieces now too small
But managed to gather
Reached for the tube
The one with the glue
Never realized before
But now know it’s true
A limit is evitable
The end has been reached
No further lay roads
Only barren fields
Took for granted
This heart for too long
Now in shambles
No more glue to fasten

Overwhelmed

I know you don’t love me
But the smile on your face in the morning
The moan of satisfaction from the first sip of coffee
Your look of concern at the day’s job list
I love it.

I know you don’t love me
But the feverish craving for food
The temperamental outbursts of disappointment
Your unquenchable thirst for success
I love it.

I know you don’t love me
But the uncompromising need for perfection
The agitated demand for respect
Your unnerving effort to belong
I love it

I know you don’t love me
But your simplicity amidst all deceit
The determination to last till the final blow
Your goofiness that weakens tyrants’ knees
I love it

I know you don’t love me
And that knowledge I despise
But what else can I be than a true admirer
An addict to the drug that you provide
I against your will love thee.