Skip to main content

General Madness

 


I see General Madness cracking open,

He oozes out as a pulp from a laceration,

He flows down the streets to places and people unknown.

He would crawl up new landings 

and conquers them like he did to mine years ago.

Some years back, he invaded my city of Head,

Which was on the verge of destruction by the civil war,

Between the groups of experiences and sorrows.

When General Madness came, the two creepy groups united,

made him their leader.

For years I carried a nuclear explosion in my head.

He was indifferent to the curves of my cursive letters,

And produced scribbles of a toddler,

sending out misinformation.

He conducted minor explosions, 

assuring the solidarity of other

inmates of my Land.

But most times, Capt. Heart from the left quarters was a rebel,

He filed verbal and written complaints in vain.

He persuaded the Lady Mouth 

to utter things unknown and uncouth.

She seemed an elegant lady outside,

with a smile, she was confident of,

Her son was Sir Gland who ran

a liquid factory,

which smelled differently every time to everyone.

Madness marked his territory and 

self-proclaimed his dictatorship over my property.

The rebellion of the civilians went on for years,

People from outside joined the movement,

They didn't back off at minor explosions and threats.

Firmness and determination was evident in their faces,

to reclaim their houses, 

to protect their rights,

to live freely.

After days of rebellion,

General madness started losing his manpower,

He saw its increase on the other side,

Unable to withstand, General began to withdraw,

Slowly and stealthily,

He left my landing one night.

But I saw him leaving,

Oozing out with his leftover army,

Searching for new weak landings to conquer.

And that night, the inmates of my landing slept peacefully,

after hoisting our flag and sending out messages,

Of the Freedom from General Madness!


A.C

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

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...
Post a Comment
Read more

A Call for One More Summer Swim

  Dear Oliver,    Last summer was not only about freshly smelling grass and ripened peaches to me, it became something more than that because of you. Your arrival to help my father taught me lessons for a lifetime. It was you who gave meaning to my summer, to my days and its absurdities. When I first saw you, little did I realise that you are going to unravel the real Elio, an Elio who was so much in love. An Elio who was so confused at the choices of his love and who showed the courage to confront it no matter what. I remember when you whispered to me "Call me by your name and I'll call you by mine", the time when I felt as if the four lettered word Elio pouring out from your mouth is all I wanted to listen to in this entire universe. But sometimes life offers us a different path, away from what we actually want.  I still remember the fun we had at Bergamo, the way you kissed me secretly pressing against the walls, never did I experience that feeling ever again. Bec...
Post a Comment
Read more

Most Nights We are Alone

  Most nights we are alone,  Trying to form a shape,  Wrecking with the pain of a bleeding heart,  In desperation to flatten the lump formed in the throat,  Trying to keep it as calm as possible Not to wake our partners beside us.  Most nights we are alone,  Clenching onto pillows,  Playing loud music,  Pretending sleep,  While we writhe in pain.  Most nights we are alone,  Thinking of faces that promised company,  Faces of people we assumed would hug us,  Hands that we thought would caress us,  And talks that we registered would soothe us.  Most nights we are alone,  Peeling off our gender,  Searching for an identity,  Making sense of our essence,  Organizing our anger,  Revolting against the structure,  Living past the breaking point,  Storming a mysterious body.  Most nights we are alone,  Cursing the dreams we believed,  Blaming the instincts that spurred...
Post a Comment
Read more