PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The chemistry of hate 
changes in a thorn’s shade. 
I start digging out the past 
for a blind sun, 
for a qualified rejection. 

He was stranded in a death-row: 
the civilians were killed. 
Was a meditating Buddha with 
a bomb, doing his routine job 
of annihilation? 


I am surprised of a god walking 
in the graveyard to find his own 
son lying asunder six feet deep 
below the burden of kisses from 
the vanishing mankind.