the dusted elegy of smitten ashes

Steal compassion from a tread over pebble
from old wax i carved a sloppy figure
Of eyes and ears; to hear and see better
Mine, were lost in the war.

Of comrades and battalions
of enthusiastic souls of the soil
who ravaged the battle grounds.


Ask the muddy waters
soaked now in sanguine pallor
blood of honor,
Sea weed and ethos
An entire race left behind
as we fought at the gates.


Likewise are the pawns you set after me
of memoirs and memories
And if I could rid myself of these
I’d stoop to burning my own skin,
the biggest of my sins.

And upturn the pentacles
while you burn down the sanctum of me
And a plethora of colors burst open through
In an epitaph of withered flowers
adorning my once long hair

That i chopped mercilessly
As they now slither the wet floor
I remember the journey up hill.

To the church of Iyatha
where we worshiped union
And practiced devotion.

Uproot the cross of faith and stab my wounds
But don’t un bury the grave we so romantically,dug out.
To fall in and sleep the last of ruin
To embrace immortality.

Alas, the mud lay scattered
the scene battered
Life beneath the crux of death
Where even hell feared to go.
I swum the shores to the epicenter
And let myself drown in its pull.
Like pulling and being pulled
Like soft feathers raining down my ears
And covering my eyes as you lead me on.
And I followed like the deaf would the blind.
And maybe in return i did reap
As my legs were burned and my crutches thrown
into the hungry fire.
And now i bite marshmallows with the vigor of
smitten stones, crushing, pulp of who I could be in us.
and the sea serpents in my eyes
coil around, mid neck
and to slumber they bring forth
after gulps of airless swallows
and they chirped on winter's night
and we ended with my breath
into the depths of the earth
beneath, composted.
as hail stones melted
in the air and rained on us
because of the warmth emanated from mother
as I finally proved how much of a son
i could be to the soil.
in the cleft of its arm

unlike pillows soft
they serenaded me just like those
nights we cocooned in cobwebs and watched
meteors as I lay rested in your arms.
but this elegy gathers dust before
its over
and so do words as they burn
because paper is just another enemy
to me, words and we.