A Frailty Unmasked At The End Of October

So this is it, the endtime for the lost and the toast of the town, each bearing different faces yet none may tell what's in their hearts

For the swelling frosty inwards of a time for introspection, a frailty unmasked at the end of October for another pint of sorrow

And I am the darkness therewith, and this is my song herewith, for flowing inasmuch as a sham in the coming winter, unprepared at most

As such is the price to pay for living one's life like one wants to, a cradle of distending upturning for another frozen asset, unthawed 'til sunrise...

And for every eternity there is to which this unseamly smile it attaches onto forthwith, then none may ever hopefully discover me among the floes

For a ride in the frozen tears I have no longer a need to be human, yet I am forced still to become one for as long as I look like one

A favour ensnaring to know that it's all false, that all that I have are mere fantasies at best laid warm and gooey for some dinner served

Inwarding rewarding for cruelty of authority written not on stone, but to remember where is it that my slumber lies, like forewarnings in snow...

For last, if only there'd be a resignation letter best reserved for the likes of one so done with humanity, then let me be the one to raise my black pen

For a signature at best or caricatures for rest I don't even think I could care this much anymore when comes the newer sunrise, or the ones afterwards

And it is a nuisance indeed that my helping of myself in blasphemy of a perpetual nurture it only resulted in me living longer on this earth, minus the warmth

For what rules or what edicts pray tell that should bind me still to this mockery of Life, for better I be dead that being alone in spiritual poverty, for better or for worse...

THE SIGN OF SHAIRO
KL
2013

My Whispered Sweet Nostalgia

Unpay my restless plethora, of which no words be on no tongues can speak about it well

For this be the time I pay my homage, to the fall of every season, to the fall of every warmth

Be they in hearth or in the heart, for this be art of suffering in silence and the silenced, death of kindness

And in the depth of every shadows can you see me singing in the rain of ordained hopes and its aftermath?

And so I lament and rue the day of when I did leave nothing and crave but the grime of humanity, sanctioned

But never was I praised and raised above the pulpit of so many great heroes, nor was I anointed anyway better

Thus to the tolling sound of bells from belfries no longer serving this humanity can I be seen playing with demise

For this be the chance for the undead and the savage to serve their purpose under the arrival of the dark times...

Oh so damned this me for listening to this cadence of enraptured hollowed despair yet time and again

And so I left this valley of mourning once again, how ironic to think that I find pleasure and hope

In the month that's known for its longest night of the year, the all hallows eve prevailing inside me!

Oh loneliness does have a stack of cards up his sleeve, playing for dead or paying for debts...

And this me, he waivers as he says "I send thee flowers my lovely autumn gaze!"

To the look of stones adorning the panorama, oh such wonderful glee this depression it brings!

And look, the candles are all lit for the season! Oh mirth and merriment absolving chaos, at last!

And this me, he is merely a lilting note on the acoustic guitars from gypsies' music carried by ages!

Thus I send these flowers into the skies so crisp with the cold, that turns to seed for another winter's sigh

That culminates on me strongly with each passing age I spend on this planet, so miraculous yet dead afore

The time so precious is like a plaything for me the one with none but dust in his coffer of stones and faces

Ah, such life indeed this ilk of empirical notation for a lost merrymaking session, for the darkness within...

SAIF MINTAKA
KL

2013