When you visit the museum,
The old paintings are taken to the back
New painters hang on the walls,
Hope my poetry will be remembered


Even a RAT dines

Whites castles and silver plates
Melts scented candles 
The light from bronze chandeliers

If these walls can shrink,
The heavy air within
Fills my lungs with lays of dust particles

The old wine tastes dull 
Must be these faces around the table 
Filthy and expensive

The rugs that blur their nudity
But not their souls

Void and dark

Their selfish hearts and smirks
Decays meat in their teeth 
From a last kill you fouled hyenas

The blood,
And no decency

Smiley hogs
Their grunts known to the sun 
The wind must have come with aplague

The winter streets
Frozen and dead
Cries a Raven on a broken cart

Even a rat dines, 
On marrow of a dead king
Should the sky turn grey

Monsters and men

Of monsters and men
oaths taken upon steel
their scarlet edges
to never dry on a winter night

Brothers and foe
knights on horses
their shining armour
riding to meet blades of death

Bows and arrows
the silent assassins
raining in from above
the ultimate test of good luck

Heroes and villains
if legends live,
as stories on mountain rocks
then castles shall ruin

And the damned shall live
within their walls
their tears and blood
all for nothing

history can’t love,
then sure it can hate
the monster
that made the man

So we both,
Live on


Let’s whisper unto the stars,
the secrets of our wishes
Unicorns and fairies
a princess and her knight,
If beauty is to fade,
and happiness is to seek,
so he wears
the crown of Persia,
a ring of immortality
holding a scroll of literature,
romance, and history
A gladiator’s aura
Fallen in the sand of the arena,
A dove in the sky
Across the black sea
If my soul finally crosses
Walking the moon,
Among my forefathers
The birth of a new star

Beauty and history

Time devours beauty of a maiden,
Like a flower withering in a prevailing drought

It pulls down the bright petals of her youth
To ruins of a deserted city

Mighty, once adorned,
Of her great walls and golden streets,

That whispers of her riches
Echoed the high mountains and valleys below,

As swans swam up her Jordan,
To the tunes of the eastern parrots

Finest, smiles like a sunset,
And the melodic voice of her highness

Now, behind shutters of broken glass,
A ghostly structure falling into oblivion

Deserted by kings, counsel men, and soldiers
As her streets crawl with beggers and the unclean

Her walls falling brick by brick,
As the wind pulls one strand of her hair at a time

But, she smiles, touching the smooth surface,
Of the glass, more like herself

And whispers, “for every city that fades from glory,
The world must raise another, “

“and for every queen that ages,
The kingdom must crown another”


The knights of darkness

Sleep stands a few steps away from me
Watching my pathetic body cycle in weary
My mind aching in ceaseless frenzy

After long hours of a short day,
Counted two at most,
That slowly passed like two long dull centuries

I was reading, vampire chronicles,
Buried between the black ink and papers,
In the great imagery of fine wording

The beautiful scenery of dim evenings,
Masked by moonlights and lanterns
Along streets of the late eighteenth century

An artistic painting it seemed,
Old fashioned, tailored coats and hats,
Queued in long lines awaiting the curtains of the Opera

When theatre truly boiled blood in human veins,
The excitement, delight, clever poetry
Written softly on tender walls of their hearts

Listening carefully at the sounds,
Wagon wheels on tiny rocks of the dark streets,
Through alleys where stray cats made their little roars

There were gasps of terror,
swift advances like a wind,
Cold, that death smelt in the dump air

Then, screams of the fading,
Echoing on walls of moonless nights,
As their skins turned white within the reaper’s grip

Inescapable, truly before the face of death
Creatures of the night, lone predators
The knights of darkness

Beautiful, ain’t it?
Fascinating, the metallic smell of fresh blood,
Dripping from sharp canines, a fresh kill!

Ah, I felt the hunger, and truly did,
But was lost to this world,
Oblivious to my own problems, “food”

That now, dark, you understand,
Why I can’t leave this house to find “food”
And can’t drift smoothly into that pool of sleep “nightmares.”

Ah, nightmares! Hunger!

~sad ~

Fallen king

The dusty lobes of your eyes,
Dark news of a king’s wellness they carry
To the masses,
On raven wings of a light tongue

Broken, the spirits of her citizens,
Surrounded by enemies of blades and chariots,
Camping under the hollow moon

And before dawn,
Shall they throw rocks of flames,
To the sky walls of this city,
Commencing, the day between jaws of desolation

Mothers shall run,
Hidden,  faces of their cherished daughters,
Behind loincloths of their ashes
And sons, besides their fathers,
The rising spirits of the dead

How easy it is to set fire on a pine forest?
So easy it is, to seize a city whose king lies,
Covered in wool and animal skin,
Fighting the inviting winter of an after world

The place where time defines no history
But an abyss of oblivion
A throne without a heir,
And a name,  to vanish like smoke


The masters

Rivers of sorrow
Valleys of shattered souls
Stolen childhoods, 
Self interests of the masters

Beastly hunger,
Rewarded narcissism
Luncheons of meat and wine,
Decaying flesh and blood

Tainted,  fine fabric,
Disgusting games of folly
Echoes of hypocritical laughter,
On neatly furnished wood

And hidden gold daggers,
Windowless stone houses
An assassination burglary,
Lone dark nights, long

And clothed in honor,
veiled in arrogance
Despicable faces,
Masked with expensive makeup

suffocating perfumes,
A rising air across the gold mines
The soulless humans
The slave masters of the century

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