Ashes And Bones
By Fiza Pathan
Mind your language when you talk to me in earnest
May I pause your conversation to pull out your tongue
Which speaks such harsh words, against the lover poet?
Hark I hear the echo of a scream coming forth
From the past with a lot of violence.
Hurry you mortal and hide before the pestilence forthcoming
Drains the life force from you.
The curse in the night knocks upon the poet’s window
But I dare not let the vermin inside.
Woe to the heavens that brought me to such a plight.
There will be ashes and bones for everyone who hears the poet talk.
Inhale my putrid breath and exhale my worries
With drops of yellow filthy bile.
Hear me you gods you make the weak more stronger every passing day,
By making them vomit out serpents from their hearts core.
Lo one knocks at the door again
To bring forth gems and money into this crumbling House of God.
I don’t need jewels shining brightly nor the scent of the expensive note
What I need is ashes and bones to play with
Like an insane prophet till my soul fades away.
Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan
Image courtesy: http://www.morguefile.com/archive/display/210138