The Castle called a man’s Heart

Have you heard or seen the dens or prisons where free men were kept? 

If not, let me tell you about it, about the little details which no man told

First, those men put their trusts in imaginations and false hopes 

Clinging to the mirror, others casted for them for self discovery

The colors they see are crazy, the views about the future vague

Painted illusions, thoughts of what-would-be light the heart

Giving a moment of hope in the Castle’s rooms, that is how it began

Hope threw charcoaled sickles up the spiky ceilings and spikes fall

Thorns weave their way out of creepy mistletoes, as wrinkled roses shrunk

When a ghost pass, her breeze push over the old tray, tumbling the ashes

And when the old clock chimed the hour zero, strange figures came to trade, 

Pricing their wares- fear, sailing through the wind like a piece of paper!

At all corners, spider webs generously stood to greet any newcomer, 

The soot from ages of Chimney burns design the walls with grim ferocity

Black hues, some on the floor, some seeming like a reddened blood patch

Also the windows were not spared, the beauty could be seen ages past

At the end of each hall, rat colonies thrive, with lots of hay and dust

In the dark evening, the night lit up with fireflies scaling the ceiling

Dancing to unheard music, blinking their lights at ghostly galleries 

No, no one, but few would actually see the imagery that lived there, 

The blood of prisoners of war, their cries and sputum and mangled flesh, 

Innocent sighs, disillusioned spirits, become a great piece of disappointment

Now men live in various castles created in their heart of hearts

The taste of defeat lure the endless stream of men to those castles

Forcing some to accept Destiny, as their only mentor and citadel 

Those who knew the tricks played by the heart of hearts of men

Will chose to stand just outside the Castle’s walls to see more


Poetale: The Vampire

I wonder why we are warm blooded
And yet men is to another, stone cold
The suns’ light hide such many things;
In the depths of wells, beings with wings
And the thoughts, which we fear exist
They come and disappear like the mist

With the appearance of the moon
The fur extends beyond the skin
Farther it stretches to a big beard
Faces torn, strange and very bold
The tricks Nature play on men:
As like Count Dracula in his den
And all fiery and fearful beings
Which I solemnly call ‘just things’

Walk not alone in a forest
By a full moon light
Dreadful creatures crawl about
Seeking for that, that gives it delight;
No conscience, but real taste
For the warm blood on the breast

And when I had a little converse
On what gives her special interest
I got a huge shocker
And I was left to wonder…

Life is not always cold
Afterthoughts, I replied
“Don’t you see how I look?
I am a fellow vampire too,
I have long ears like the elf
Lips, eye colors, all of a wolf!”
Trying to fend off signs of fear
Both of us, never to see the others fare
And for those who call out like an umpire
A quick terror of such a name, vampire

For my friend Grace Anya, for she believes she’s a vampire.


Silhouettes and Fear

What lurks in the darkness and nights
Waiting to jump on ones neck
When no light come from the stars?

What bears a fur and Sabre tooth
And follow the silhoutte of preys
Even as one walk in the lonely park?

What stands in a dark tree plantation
Running its ferocious claws on tree barks
And howling to the new moon rising?

What strikes grave horror and terror
Running after mens heels
Trying to stand before ones face?

What wears a sinister painted mask
With forbears of evil and coldness
Trying to feed on gullible peoples minds?

Nothing fearful is actually real
But when the night and shadows are gone
Fear only, He who kills the soul and body