Ink That Speaks Fire


Blacken the blank fields
With thoughts of thine.
Cracken the soulshields
With rhyme of fire.
Utter no words of human’s design
Though cut the cords
To bring down the liar…

I am a poet.
Maybe they think I’m a jester…
They don’t realize:
I am but a man
And noone knows who I am.

Next:
Grim Ace

Echoes laughing
Come at me!
I’m alone, cannot you see?
In the dim room of my mind,
Chamber black of eyeless blind…

Cecite knave,
Left alone in the cruelest rave…
Love forlorn,
Feeling only utter scorn…

This is the time
And that’s the place.
Wipe out my race
And hear my rhyme.

There’s no disgrace
But fear of fall.
I’ll take my toll.
My name is Ace.

I’m the grim Ace…
What I do is grieving…
Sad, the flowers are leaving
When they try to gaze

At my forehead symbols
Of the true abysmal…
“Front et Baiser”-spirit,
I’m longing to hear it.

Ye sands of time!
I’m not sublime!
Tell me, am I yours to grind?

When my lore is left lorn
Tell me, will you adorn
My soul left at the gates of the dawn?

Levins fall; raindrops roll
Down my eyes; comes rattling call;
Fairies crawl hiding from the toll…
At the end I shall recall it all…

Next:

Kismet in the Wind

We are nothing more
Than blades o’grass
In the gust o’the wind o’sore.
It is written our foreheads upon
That we’ll struggle forevermore…

Into the dungeons we hide our talents, our dreams,
Obeying the so-called destiny’s little schemes…
The fate’s like a snail
And it crawls its tail to prevail…

Our souls are light
But eyes are dim…
We dare not say to ourselves…
As no-wit machines we vim.

One wanted truth.
I cannot tell for sure,
Though I say forsooth…

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LI 5.09.15