31 august 2016
Night Raid
It was night sin
of domesticity. Dyed, I am loading
the white secret of pain
in the hollow of a mayhem.
Till every blunder takes a
downward flight striping the outsized
image of a kill. His flames are
now singeing the eyebrows of angels.
His foes have entered the compound.
The black was alluringly looped in
a stream of blood. Death did not
wait for a ceremony.
Lips forgetting the golden sheep,
tongue apologies for the wronged earth.
17 november 2024
Too PrudentSatish Verma
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Wielki BratJaga
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0005.
14 november 2024
0004.
13 november 2024
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0003.