1 stycznia 2012
ghosts of a troubled world
The ghost of hate, the ghost of existence
On ‘you’- on the other side of the spectrum
It’s me, its you, it’s being
He looks and loathes, then lips then lies
On the corner of his face
He makes a wry
Churning truth and troll
Clinging onto the clear with an opaque bloodiness
Drifting to and from both ends of his wits
To capture in a foil
Pure plight and pursuit
The ghost of power
In between the digit of his penning
He weaves the will of his minions to his desired design
He speaks and spurns, you speak he strikes
Taming trust and tide
Within the circle of his desperation
lurking to cap the sign of an uprising.
Holding on to a future that is not,
With a fragile grasp that is short
And the grip of his cronies.
The ghost of greed
Turning a blind look to their dearth
Drowning in their spoils
With liberating mirage promises
In velvety silk words
And a borrowed speech
alien to his confidence
He mortgages their conscience to a lie
For a clueless time period
On a piny piece of parchment
The ghost of corruption
He soils his grasp
With their throes
To fill his gorge
Quenching his furnace of truth (conscience)
With a stained flow of brashness
Ridiculing right at the purchase of a bite
The ghost of poverty
Ash looks, pale minds
Wrinkled lines running through
Where she once flowed
Lifeless, loveless and
With a face of obscurity and unsurety
Her boughs boast of no return
Arid to the point of tearlessness
Her breasts, the sole of a fish
Dangling, drooping, but not dripping
Not one of sure strength
But of the winds and waves of blank hope
Once a source but now a curse
A victim of a struggle
A struggle without a name definite
The ghost of strife
Dark and gloomy in a rusty atmosphere
Blood and bones adorn the plains
As rustling and rattling crawl down the mountains
He wears that valour just to keep a-pace
With diligent strides in lazy days
Breaking in clasped palms
For a convene and a deal
From all ends of the table
To shed the colours of forlorn fear
Pain and disease, lack and loss
The ghost of death
It’s of fatality and finality
Spells of the end,
The end of spells
Like an ominous sign
The ghost of all
and all that was
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