Saturday, June 03, 2017

New Masters of Birmingham,




In Loving Memory of the Manchester's victims; 
May the Love be in full blowth again.
 .

The new masters of the boroughs,
Are, walking in the city,
wherein a cold blood,
introducing, the Almighty -God,
To the schools'  boys and girls
Of the metropolitan county,
To take over, or set sail,
 for the holy mission,
 To London, Washington D.C,
Or Rome-
And let the rusted- blades,
 of the medieval swords-
Go sheen, with the blood.

Swords are  held in,
 The resurrected heads,
And furious paws
Wrapped and blessed with,
 A strongly worded message of Hell 
Scribed with the flames of wrath,
The first Phrase of their Code,
To run the city of  Abaddon

              ***
Round One

On the London Bridge,
where aftermath the great war,
T.S Eliot saw  in the first episode,
 'Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
A crowd flowed over London Bridge,
so many'
His concern was:
 'He had no thought death had undone so many? '
Until before the clock -struck ten,
 And passed by a colored track of this era,
driven by the disciple,
of the ruthless Masters -
-mowing Londoners-
In the sight of the-
 Scotland Yard whose men,
  were only  equipped,
 For the dirty battles
In the heart of London                                              
with matchless clubs.

***
Round Two. (Hope never happens.)
   







                             

Monday, May 22, 2017

THE PERSIAN SYMPHONY

Friday, May 19, 2017

tempus vitae





Kay Hassan

Propelled by the God's lantern
 to fly  the power of life -where
Neither a single giant soul
Nor beasts other than myself,
except for things  beyond my ken 
 Was supposed to reside the cold-
 Of Everest.They said.
"There is no deer or tigers around."
But, with my rifle I glimpsed suddenly
 in the wild cold-  a grandeur deer on run
Followed by a streak of  magnificent,
Spotted tigers  approaching His loins,
Here and there; with giant gaping jaws  and
Thrusting paws , everywhere around Him  ,
And behind Him.
He was racing His destiny at a full swing  ,
Fighting back with His splendid
Fatal symmetry –
of the velvet covered-Andouiller- (Antler.)
(Against the Tigers' dispute.)*
Haunting the sky like a thousand Albatros
And making the noise in the scale of a giant city,
He flew, through the  untrodden,
  storm-troubled   downhill  trails
 And ran above  the sliding  avalanches –
 And down on His way The Deer,
 crossed a million barriers and rocks,
 traps, strongholds and tree stalk, 
following the lead of His instinct
He tripped and-
Fell down from a cliff to cliff
 Rolling down
 On the harshest landscape of the planet,   
And like an experienced  charismatic leader,
 manoeuvred for a thousand narrow escapes of  death,
counting on my clumsily assembled statue    
and conflicts amidst
  the ambush* fellows over the first bite.
In such a wild waste
Where still Heaven’s  glories fell on.
He ran With wet eyes and foggy breath and
rhymed bell, and as the power of will shone
More lustrous than the thunder of arms. 
I screamed. 'O Glory of the sky,
 within the triple murderers'  hearts.'
(The Tigers, Himalaya and myself.)
I felt the scene with a little shame.
watching the deer's spring and
 Tigers' ambush's attack-at once
“Have any royal-Tiger Horses.
 witnessed  such a  deer stalking rivalry.”
 He is jumping from the edge- of the world-
The hermits' suicide cliff.
"God must have made
 out  of the mountain's snow
 a river in the spring -
streaming down the valley,
like the paradise cushion'
said the first hermit I met.                                                                                                        
 ' May, someday, in the same season
the ocean's tsunami hit the height,
And take the heart of Himalaya apart ' He added.

The Tigers scrutinised the flying-
Deer in shock, and like we do
for the  glowing gods
 They held for him a highest regard.,
And came to prompt halt
We stayed, as much as we could
 hands on the hilt, and paw on heart,
 Until the Deer rested on the stream
 He swam  to where  He was out of reach,
On the other bank of the river,
He lingered across the untouched meadow
Turned back  His head without regret
And stared high from afar;
 Docilely in sorrow, for us
He saw the ambush* crumbled to lone wolfs
Each  through a gloomy trail,
was running up with no interest  in
 Their syndicate, anymore.
They had already started the climb.
Though everyone  was  gone
Idlest I was  amid the boundless  rage,
With my arm next to the sage.
Playing the dedicated pillar of the tale.  
Weaving, in shame,  a new twist,
 and brewing a universal  storm in heart
Where the death ceases to have intellect.   
And Thy court ran out of such a  verdict.

The End   


-------------------------------------
* The symmetry- in William Blake's Tyger. (Tiger.)
*Ambush-streak = Group of tigers.   



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