This is the world: it is upside-down;
a smile is a frown,
a verb is a noun,
a hamlet is a town.
This is the world: it is inside-out;
a whisper is a shout,
a grin is a pout,
a good man is a lout.
This is the world: it gobbles you up;
you deserve a goblet, you get a tin cup;
you deserve a palace, you get locked up;
you deserve a fair trial, a conspiracy is cooked up. Continue reading
It boils down to statistics
In a distant moment,
somewhere, in a far-off location,
someone orders them to relent:
someone murders another nation.
“We will not lay down and die!”
in anguished hysteria, this they cry.
I plan carefully the foundation of my downfall;
such a construction must be steady on the ground
so that, if the machinations may stall,
there will be little destruction to the creations around.
The skies split open; proceed to pour down
optimistic downpour: rain, the tiny splatters
straining to sustain;
a soaking, repetitive chorus
The tantalising miscommunication
blasts down a cloud of mystical malcontent.
sifts into the mesh of the humans’ souls,
shifting the little grits of goodness
deep into the crust of what once was Earth.
I am humanity
I am broken,
tiny shards of my being poke holes in each other.
I am open,
shiny holes of nothingness beckon curious passers-by.
I am bruised,
lines and patches draw maps of mayhem under my skin.