Friday, August 04, 2006

Death of a Martyr

My friends and family lie convinced,
i drape a curtain over their sights.
The person they love, they think, is
a result, of imagination's flight.

And that a wolf lurks beneath,
the finest coat of wool, on a sheep.
That one day, these jaws will snap,
on those caught in my image trap.

I lie poked, and stabbed, but still,
not to move, lest those shrill,
voices utter their terrible cry:
“ This man's life is all a lie!”

And yet, if I not respond to their,
jabs and jives, nor their stares,
My guilt, they shall proclaim.
My silence, a reason to maim,
Damnation, would they joyfully declare..

All because, I never did mould,
to the shape, ordained by the world of old.
All because, I listened to my heart,
from servitude, did I depart,
onwards to my destiny..

And because, i spoke in a tongue,
they understood, and they tried to run.
But my vision, did theirs shorten,
as it tugged at longings, long forgotten.

Ashamed them to admit,
they felt as I did.
That it's not a crime, to dream of being splendid.

That all of us, beneath the skin,
are flesh and bones, kith and kin.

That the only god, lies within,
the walls of conscience, untouched by sin.

That the wealth of the heart, greater than gold.

This new world is the same as the old.

And we live in a world, which worships vice.

Backs are stabbed, deemed a fair price.

It hurt them, when I called their bluff,

All their money would never be enough.

For one who cared not a pence,

Of how much land lay within the fence,

You set up, to cut yourself,

Off from the rest of the world.

I cry, not for the wounds,

Them, I do not mind.

Saddened, while I see,

My race remains blind.

To the glory, that awaits the one,

Who, all appearances, temptations,

will shun.

Bring forth, the knife, that will end,

Be it may, the final stab, of a friend.

Let me close my sights, on this,

World that has forgotten, it’s heavenly bliss.