Metamorphosis Poems

It will be painful, generational. Hard to keep up. The old will resist fight the loss of their world. Change will be blinding, the fabric of civilization fraying turning to dust. Everything known will be obliterated. Humanity loses its identity.

One time in my youth my color was green with vim in my veins I swam with the stream I went through a change that the chrysalis take went to sleep as a raindrop awoke as a lake. Now music

It’s a fluttering dove, No…mayhap a trembling rabbit, Why does it sound so loud? The shaking, the trembling Now the throbbing, the thudding In my ears, a stampede, The gasp that awakens, confirming It’s the beat of my heart, Out

In this blood-watered land forms flow fluid as serpent becomes lizard, lizard becomes turtle, turtle become cicada, cicada becomes sea urchin, becomes sacred owl with onyx eyes In this soul-fed land fugitive figures fuse into each other, my breath becomes

Neath the boughs and eaves; a soul all withered, weathered; grieves. For a love once unfurled Of promises made; and hope assumed and vows murled…. Scattered and battered in the undergrowth lies a heart that has found no rhythm no

I feel eternal and immortal as I don’t realise it is my breath which is keeping me alive I am not bothered to know every breath that I am taking is leading me into my grave Upon Good I feel

Overturned, years of stasis Paralysis by mental blockade A political metamorphosis. Afoot at the general election; Vengeance of the Manifesto. The interregnum, the entrenched vote Tranches appear, on Revised Register Deceased coded, in numbers resurrect. Beyond the grave, claim their

I travel between two worlds World of imagination, another of daily settings. I work, I talk, I sleep and eat And do all things, all for common blessings. My essential hours guide me To assume my conscious self Amid the

He awakens To a wicked world Of His own design Where the Damned Live amongst The Divine Their perfect little lives An illusion Fueled by vanity As He searches The darkness for light And His sanity Rythm of the heart

the hunt begins after sunset under cracked moon, blindfolded clouds start visiting volitionlessly: the nesting eagles, I choose this bitter absurdity of large wings under the sun, where they will announce the shade, a lonely patch of life, of signature

the end of a thought is never for its death, but for a new beginning; there is always a meaningful silence, a metamorphosis, I do ever find, between a stop and its succeeding word like that of death into birth

Wrigglers dripped again from hidden heights. The red river changed its course furiously. The wave climbers abseiled from a lethal boat to wipe out the beach memory. Timeline sneaked to put the blood signature of a cult on the glass

Difficult it becomes, the secret of the judgement and metamorphosis of the painted cotton into a stained truth. To save the present tense. A dangerous crowd of vowels to express the incomplete moment of watery teeth, so hung, while misspeaking

Are angelic neurons fleshing inside a trans-Inquisition tavern? Another kind of speaking, pontificating globe? Can we feel the burning and sexing of the four seasons with the four elements, recycling earth, water, air, fire, to produce the quintessence of your

oblong face like an opal grape crag of nose guarding coinpurse mouth how strange after a brief oblivion – eighty years in the grave leapt an exhalation of moribund mold – body produced as a conjurer’s trick shaken out of

Blessed by a firm, wealthy and loving family You went through trials, hardships and burden… You married young hoping for happiness… You yearned for love and faith… You didn’t trouble anyone… You did them all alone… Faith was what you

Delhi the mighty city, I love to hate, has withstood time and is steeped in history. With its harsh climate and its harsh reality it doesn’t give excuses, doesn’t sugar coat its being. With pride it says i have it

I remember her, she remembers me For a life-time like a simile, for a life time like a family It’s high time she forgot about me It’s the right time for her to release me Ask D’angelo maybe he will

And when we walk into the twilight gold, if we do I’ll tell you tales of battles lost and won In hospital corridors. Of teeth chattering grit And diligent fear, That rises like seawater From toenails. And when I talk

I seek the knowledge of nature, With all its bounty and glory Of the twinkling stars, of the burning lava, Of the flying birds, of the crawling insects, Of the animal hunger, of human minds. I seek knowledge of the

I dreamt myself a ghost woken Of a morning by frigid rain pitiless, needling, painful, unknown From my indistinct fore-life My domain an irregular bowl A well bottom a warm, still Kingdom to float swampy vapors Possessing to the precipice,

Young love alighted one day on my hands, As though a bird that perched to rest from flight, I let it leave as freely as it lands, Lest it would die if caught and grasped so tight; Or I may

Is it all worth it? The question asked through the ages. Even sages had no answer for me. “You have the answer within your head” They said. I delved deep into my mind, my life, finding strife thus far. Had

What they told us about Capitalism: We were told capitalism creates wealth, we were told capitalism brings the best in man, and with it, individual’s potentials are certainly attainable; we were told individual dreams and aspirations easily come to fruition

We always glorify the bygone days We refuse to believe the present is as beautiful and worthy as past We Live mostly in past and dream only of the future We tend to overlook the past sufferings and only remember

I listen and I hear them question “Why Me??” I overhear the way they think things should be, These are emotions I just do not feel, My feelings on this I know are so real. It’s a phrase I have

Let’s look together, in the tight, dark corners. Look in the tough, raw twilight– Once, I thought I found a bed, under a dome of stars. I tried to sleep. The world is always fresh. Everyone is always looking for

In my reverie I live And reality is only a reflection In the mirror in my backyard Redemption is what I seek today Cos’ yesterday was drenched in sins Memories keep me awake all night, A walk through woods and

On a dull and dreary day When the sky was overcast With dark and dismal clouds I sat feeling so despondent Absence of warmth and sunshine Slowed down the routine business The day seemed longer than usual As if time

I am an African man I am strong and healthy Each and everyday I walk out of my home Hoping to find a better job for my family Where will I find a job while there is still corruption? It’s

An individual can create a movement, so large and monumentous, it swallows deprivation whole. Fulfil missions from God, for family friends, and even foes. Angel of darkness, do not misinterpret though. Not crazy or lazy , step back and listen

White pill, Red pill – We’ve both taken ours; Yet the divide between, Is still unseen – And cursed beneath our hearts. The measure of men, acceptable when – You beat me at my part; But I bleed for you,

Peek a soul-peeking into an unghostly, sacred ghost — in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, until I find myself more flimsy than a goldfish ghost with bulging, story-telling eyes, standing, staring, balancing on the mental-emotional

Stop laughing Start crying Stop trying Start dying Giving up Now giving in All because you think you can’t win This race isn’t yours You don’t keep score Anymore You hit the floor You say “I can’t and won’t take

Nothing in life is free! Everything, be it- Love, Work, Friendship All incurs a cost. Nothing in life is free! Love- the dose for sustenance Requires a fidel give and take. Nothing in life is free! Work- the dire necessity

Positive expressions I may try to impress But you are expressing The art inside your hearts Your minds are full of moves And jumps Already reached the outermost Level The fast moves more than fast reactions Bending your bodies like

Well there’s Hooverville on the edge of the river haint nuttin boot flimsy cardboard e’en with clothes will shiver waiting for tension to be released like a arrow in a taut quiver major organs ready to burst open cuz day

A New Dawn Justice Eluded her But she was On Run Till last gasp But soon surrounded The foul air Lies and deceit Confusion thicken With Past ,pre past links of delinked Whither the path? Now energy lost Treading forward

Your bewitching face I etched on wet sand And embellished it with a design grand, My work I looked on with pride, Which Alas! was undone by a tide; I carved your sweet name on a tree And thought it’d

Inside the freshly renovated library they’re cataloging blood bags: those Rh-negative are honored on the upper shelves where nobody can reach them, those from universal donors are less valued, but they are very much needed in the emergency hospital for

35 years of living should have inured me, if not prepared me, for surviving this planet; but no matter how much of me gets spent, no matter how much of it becomes me, I will always be an outsider; like

If a picture paints a thousand words Then where does that leave me A pen for a brush and ink as my paint And the words are what you all see If the pen is mightier than the sword Then

How to begin the journey of truth? it was moving away from all paths. No concrete answers were there, questions loomed large, a moaning confusion reigned. I moved inward, to open the door, I had to talk to my poems.

Imagine the dark opening forth light imagine the light breaking forth sun with beaming of rays upon the morn could it be as a darkening storm Imagine and insect on a fallen leaf Imagine the drunken sot asleep on the