The Coward of the City

Let my scars bleed,
For I am the coward of the city,
I dare not to look into my scars.
The hymns of evening is stuck in my throat,
And I spit out contagious poison.
I cannot see the scars in my body,
I only see the blood oozing out,
For I am the coward of the city.
The land and the herdsmen ran away,
The women and the children disappeared.
My vanity experienced a meltdown
In the battlefield,
My swords and words search for a meaning.
Thirsty and alone,
My surroundings applause at my fate,
But I demand,
Squeeze me easily, my fate.
Dare not to befriend me,
For I'm the thorny flower in the garden.
Glad that the city has abandoned
Its coward,
For this world demands heroes,right or wrong
Who looks into their scars and
Stops the bleeding.
But I'm the coward, who looks into the blood.
Spectral lights envelope the bloody me
And guardian angels fly away,
In search of heroes.
As immovability takes charge of my body,
The vocal chords form the last
Words of cowardice,
"But what can be done when you
Are given a rusty sword and
Broken language?",
Which never came out of the mouth,
For the wrong hero has
Snatched the last breath.

A.C

Comments

Reminders

I want you to remember The photograph, you loved On the wall, That reminds me Of the last spring Where the potted sunflowers At our home smiled And the hanging creepers Mumbled, Of the girl who was looking For someone. You saw a thousand figures Dancing in her pupils A Mexican woman in Her huipil, A drunken man with his Lyre; Looking for the right Strings,And A peahen waiting to mate. You admired the Vine stems heading North In the picture, The cheap beads that The girl wore And the broken bridge Behind her, From which a fish Jumped for a self introduction. And when you remember Your dear picture, I want to remind You of the Coffee cup that tasted Your lips, The laundry drugged By your smell And the mirrors that Reflected your images. And you should know that The sunflowers no longer smiled And the creepers were silent Till yesterday. But today when The rain sprinkled its drops I see clearly the pupil Of the girl, Dark and intense,...

Madeline’s Mirror

Madeline’s mirror told her she’s fat, It appalled at her shapeless dress, Covering a chunk of flesh. She looked at her broad shoulders And big breasts, which reminded her of a pile of clothes that no longer fits her. But Madeline smiled and applied her eyeliner effortlessly. Her mirror sneered at her chafing thighs kissing each other when she moves. Madeline’s mirror found her plush lips contradicting the pair of flesh on either side of it. It spotted the two chins fighting for space like contestants in the combat zone. Madeline admired her freckleless skin, and applied her favourite lipstick. The mirror reflected her flabby arms complementing her saggy belly. Madeline moved closer to her mirror, which still in oblivion, started to produce sympathetic smiles at her legs. It mirrored how her legs carry all the weight, hiding under her flowy dress. Appreciating her silky hair and perfectly manicured...

Murmurings of Married Women

I hear murmurings from the graveyard In the West of the town, Of married women, Dead and disappeared years ago. I wonder what a time they had, What a life they lived. Their husbands weep and weep and forget them, They praise how they looked after their women, Covering in glittery gold, Buying them silly silks, Giving makeup for a make-over. But still, the women murmur, Their voices seem to break the edges of tombs. They force the sun to dry out the flowers on them quickly. I lowered my face and listened to the tombs, It seems their lipstick was revolting, Their eyelashes lifted to show the desperation. They talk about the lies they had to live through, In fear of strangers' pointing fingers on getting a hint on their unhappy marriages. They call out their abusive partners, Told me to look for the broken bangles behind the kitchen for proof, The blood-stained clo...

THE FORGOTTEN STORIES

Search This Blog