journey through

Judas I have seen thy lips and they are folding into a kiss. The rooster has crowed thrice. It is thy night, come and perform thy deed, come and betray the son of a woman. Come and sell him out. Come up and pick what is yours, the thirty pieces of silver. Ready your kiss, Judas, and hand over the son of man. Ready thy tongue with words, to bind the son of man to a tree. Light a fire with thy tongue, so the son of man can be scorched, burnt and forgotten. I want to see his mother cry, and I wasn’t to see his father weep. I want to see sorrow, on the face of his brothers, she that loved him, and they that sang after him. I want to see the faces of men turned away, as they share in the pain of he that you accused. I can see you pointing fingers, and I can hear your sleazy whispers, but where art thou?  Where is thy face, Judas? Why hidest thou in the dark? Why do you snuff out thine light? Why do you remove your shoes? This place is not holy. It reeks of sin. It smells of what you ha...

I have warned you Lament not when the time comes. Cry not out, for I have warned you before, and I have told you that this is going to hurt. You are falling hard upon a rock just like a nail falls to a hammer, or a moth to a glowing flame. You have dragged yourself to a land dry and barren. You have allowed yourself to stand on quick sand. The sun shines not on this side, and for centuries not a drop of rain has found its way here. It is a land of darkness and gloom, an infested marshland, a zone of war. You are walking to the land of the dead. Run while you still can, while you still have life in you. Save yourself and save your soul. Love, I am only a zombie, and in my soul I have ghosts of the past that was and never. I am not made for love. I am not made for you. Look at yourself, a creature of silk, and look at me, I am made of mud and sticks. You are made of gold and silver, but I’m fashioned from rags and stones. You know not how much I crave to hold you, but oh, you are too br...

Murder Yesterday I walked down the road, to see if I could find the tree we planted, but it was not there, instead in its place a tall wooden fence. The tree was murdered, her fruits left for the birds, and in its place came a mighty fence, its heart plastered smack at the front. I walked by in a hurry, lest I got down and mourned, and I went up the hill. I climbed by the meadow that once was, and then to the place that the birds once nested, a barren patch of land. They had cut down the young flowers, and in their place stood demeaning posts. I got up the hill and searched for a place to sit. There was no grass like there had always been. There were no willows like they once were, and there was no life like there once was. Death and devastation was what grew there. Pain and desolation was what we left behind. When last were we under the tree? Oh, the day we fought, and I believed you would return the next day, or the day after, maybe the day after the day after, but you did not retur...

Anarchy He littered the streets, upset the tables and threw them all onto the floor. He snatched morsels from the children’s mouth, and grabbed the last of bones from the stray mutts on the road. He walked through to the city in the sun, and turned off the sun. He stormed into the hearts of men, and replaced manhood with the nature of beasts. He carried in his hands the gift of disease and pestilence, and he ushered into the door a new age, the age of the traitorous, of hunger and greed. Parents hide from their children to eat in the dark praying they hear not a crunch and wake. Infants and toddlers hang on to withered breasts, and careless whispers become a death sentence. Oh it no longer is a town with people but ghosts. Dissidents tip-toe across the streets, carrying with them wordless words and accusations, whispering into the night to unhearing ears and unseeing eyes.  When the children of the town were young, they prayed for joy in life, but when sorrow knocked their doors, ...

Curst be it Thunder and lightning strike inside mine eyes. Those red clouds above are inside my eyes, and the searing flames are in my shoulder holster. Curst be it, curst be him, who receives the sharp end of my spear tonight. Curst be him, who hears of my song tonight, and curst be he too, who sees my shadow crawl into the evening. The walls are breaking; oh the river is breaking her banks. Run and hide behind thy dykes. Take thy wives and children and shield them with vanity, for the water is coming in, fast and full of fury. I have served enough time in thy prison, and I have lost enough time behind the walls. So let it be cursed, the day we met. Let it go down in history, the day our paths crossed, as the day my world came to an end. Let it go up in flames, the memories we forged. Let misfortunes land upon that day, and like a swarm of ravenous locusts, let it consume the day as it was, eat it whole and the tatters too. Let it tear apart and float in desecrated wind like a forgot...

Yardsticks Thy yardstick, long and wide, and once I saw it I knew I could not measure. I took thy shoes and stuck my legs in, and they slid into a sea of nothingness. Yet I gave up not. I chased after thee, my own tail. I played your game and laughed at your words, till they lost their taste. I was in love with thy virgin self, dripping with innocence and naivety, and I was of the crave, to pierce all corners none had ever seen, to be the first to conquer lands yet known. I laughed at your mistakes till they became a bane. I loved your curves, but sadly every passing day they became creases, and time was catching up with you. So I was in love with flesh, but with time they became bones, and my patience ebbed out till it was no more, and I was of the question whether to have and hold or to have and let loose. It took too little a time for your words to become empty sayings. I had seen every corner and touched every curve, and sadly you no longer were sweet of taste. You became a regula...

If thou must judge If one day you wake up, and thy hands are of the feel to pick a stone and cast, take a look within thyself, and search deep inside your soul. If thou art without sin, then cast the first. If ever you itch to point your finger at one accused, and pronounce them guilty in front of the mob, look into your closet and pick out the bones. Sweep thy doorstep before you call another’s backyard filthy. If your tongue scorches with words harsh to say, and your lips overflow with sayings to scathe, then look deep within yourself and find the bubbling pot, and put out the fire that makes it simmer. Be not of hurry to curse, for it is better to bless than to rebuke. It is better to give that to purge, to offer than to grab. Look inside the deep fog that makes its nest inside your heart, and the darkness that lurks where light cannot arrive, and know not to condemn others. So if thou must judge, look within thyself and pluck the log you harbour within thee, and then condemn the s...