when everything else fails

Savouring The Massacre

outside my window a wind full of cries
blows in, with the sound of a gunfight
knocks on my door, pretty soft and calm
yet my instinct suggests otherwise
oh how i adore a genocide

blood on my floor which sneaked through my door
paints my delights in red lights
asking me out, to drink under moonlit skies
yet the rabbit isn’t that white
just to fall behind a mysterious ride

so i sit tight in the dimmed light
and paint in red what’s in my mind
screwing the brush around i wonder
“by this time at the corridor
they might be dancing in total wind”

amidst the beautiful massacre outside,
with my friends and family i dine
drinking fine old wine in candle light
oh the irritating noise and the kicks
on the damned door, might left me deaf

with tanks roaring outside the door
with bombs tracking the pain of my window
i don’t feel so safe myself in this war
and not with a thick puddle of blood
on the tip of my toe

every waking day i cling to this bloodshed
and with my passion for it and for I’m humanist
it kisses me on my pale forehead
and with it’s rotten sense of humor and my weird luck
i never had bled

and with my gun under the bed
and with this shade before the bend
there’s not really a war to attend
and with my club foot, the limp in my heart
nothing much I’ve got in me to mend

pale veil of the moon or the sun in the noon
are same to me, i got neither of them in my room
so the sight stayed outside, all gloom..
but not the sound of the drums of doom
the tune was uplifting..

clear panes of my back side windows
near planes of the war eaten black meadow
are not very far from one another
but who could have felt such heat
they all have their feet covered in thick leather

gory and bruised,yet careless whether
the zombies savour the massacre..
the mutilated soul from the ill weather
like a fairy hidden in feathers
despite the distance, stay together

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One response

  1. fallenelegy

    wow Awa, this is really long. (ya a wonderful piece of poetry from my friend Awa:crownlessxx on my blog, thank you:)) I knew you are good at writing about war, instead of describing war this time you have tried to view a side, which people are afraid to talk about, even some people deny the very existence of it. The war mongers, those who savor war, every drop of spilled blood with delight. How they grow their lot from other people’s agony. How this person is oblivious to the pain of what is going outside his “window”.

    Even this is a straight forward poem about war, I like to see in a different light. The warmonger represents all the rest of his trade, those cheaters who we meet in our everyday life. We wonder where is their conscience. How they are capable of doing evil, are they a device of the devil. Actually who is this “devil” controlling them, their own mind? We like to deny the existence of these cheaters. (the one who stole your pencil at class to the one who cheated billions on the stockmarket) We like to believe our world is a splendid paradise. Oh how we deny our paradise is lost. It’s infected with evil. We are fallen, but we are unable to accept.

    Nice one Awa, and thank you very much for this poem, every time I read this, I see it in a different light. I purely believe this one dwarfs all your previous attempts and all of what I have done 🙂

    December 17, 2008 at 3:58 pm

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