Thursday, July 14, 2011

The Terror Error

Sordid screaming screeches for the lime light,
In form of sweet whistles of agenda.
No farces do we fight- candles we light,
To strike at aesthetics, no placenta.

And so the crocodiles gather to mourn,
Plastic masks, layered second we have worn.
For the namesake- names by which we have sworn,
Winners of the bullets, those who were torn.

The great fallacies of humanity,
Echo transitions to insanity.
Run your campaigns to make problems sub-side,
Run from your fears, show just tears, show your pride.
Oh! Such is one's denial of error,
Re-establishing the reign of terror.

The Conception of Victims

Projecting light,
It's stolen emotional might.
The man is breaking, waking up a madman's plight.

'' You can't reason,
You hurt the world,
Just like treason.
You wicked blend,
This is the end-
Final season. "

Mentally weak,
Happiness- Where should it he seek?
Like an unwelcome stray-dog, his future looks bleak.

" Your purely sick,
Destroy my spawn?
Is this your trick?
Sunshine fucker!
Sodomizer!
Gave life a prick. "

Two victims are found,
With sorrow they're crowned.
A disturbing sound,
Happiness is drowned.
This evil dark deed,
Society's symptom,
Of raping a seed,
Conceives,
Two of a victim.

Untitled

He ate his food with full dedication, as if worshipping the act that can be aptly defined as the significant other of sexual desire. At that moment, he was in all senses, a greedy pig.
Engrossed and grunting, it was as if the gnawing movements of his jaw switched off all the sectors of his brain, leaving behind just a spec of functioning brain matter, hypnotized by the sacred, mind altering ritual of limited extacy.
The sounds of rumbling jets drew his attention to the sky, his brown eyes attending to the yellow smoke trails left in the blue, that resembled long furry tails that ought to have been grown by fighter jets.
But alas, the small pox smoke trails were all that they were. The possibility of living machines brandishing sense pleasing furry tails like those of surrealisticaly cute puppy-faced sphinxes, was out of bounds in relation to his filtered perception of reality. They lived their own lives in his mind.






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Creative Commons License
Untitled by Mohit Damle [Infinidev] is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License