Saturnine

Sanguine little face
 Oval and young
That's chiseled
 To the depths
Of a cursed soul
 Time slips past
And will continue
 In whose treacherous spell
Genesis be old
 Kingdoms and men be
Moss and dust
 But what shalt remain
Point back in time
 To memoirs, grass green
That face amongst
 Many masks unveiled
Now, thought
 Only a thought
To this grim faced


 Saturnine..

Fullstop

Juxtaposing contrapposto
of thoughts as words
Fingers at odds with head
scribbles on their own
on a parchment
with blood as ink
for every two lines writ
one, it strikes out
shredding 'nother parchment
like skin to start afresh..

fresh with preludes
and only to end with it
nothing beyond
In a book of
sophisticated words
an aberrant text
with exclamations
and questions
that leads to nothing
but a chapter's fullstop .

Lady of Shalott

Lady of Shalott and the lost look.. .the state most of us are in..

..different rivers..different destiny..