The Convict (2)

The Convict (Prose Poetry)

The queer morning sun
Locked its golden face
In coyest cloud
A fact that the day would be lazy
And hazy

The c0cks yawns as it crows
Horses snorts husky neighs
Standing sideways in its stable
On feeble hooves
The night seem to have overstayed its time
And had encroached into the day
Amid these, a young man dangles away
Clinching fear in its broken wings
While another glowered

In resupination, my legs hung the air
Under a bruised face
The ground smells like my piss
And faeces
I couldn’t feel my hands
Nor could my nose sift air off its stench smell.
Apart from the tornado of flies
Buzzing around my head
I realized that I’ve passed out
Few days ago
In a manger…
Where my torturer tortured me
For answers unanswered…
“Where is he?”
My eyes flinched.

My tormentor, a very huge man,
Bald on both head and face,
With a watermelon mouth and a nose
Like a very big capital letter W
Whose nostrils can accommodate
Two coca cola bottle.
His big hands smells like one who hacks death
With one single grip…
He smells like fear!

The tormentor smiles
At me, his prey
He wielded his accouterment
At the back of his left hand
And marched slow-motioned
Like a lion on a hunting quest
He turned to my legs
And opened it wide
Like a Doctor delivering a baby
A hot iron went in between..
…I screamed….
“Where is he?”
A fight for survival supervened
A thousand thought trespassed
And a tinge of opportunity beamed
To me like a light of hope
In a dark tunnel
I spilled my tormentor’s blood then
I took my legs and fled…
But it seems my dreams
Are infringing in my trapped realities
Thus is true…
I woke up to discover that
I’ve passed out again…

The Convict (Than-Bauk)

City of fear
Who would bear thee?
The dears and docked?

Thy pules, thy ruse
That spins muse off
The use of law…

They oscillate
And debate forth
From fate to faith

Till nightfall glows
No one knows thee
That shows off crime

Now without laws
Red flags maws foul
It caws justice

Pick thee a fight
Turn its plight round
It’s right to wrong

The Convict ( Free Verse)

As I stare up the old colonnade,
Marveled by it spruce up accolade
Enthralling before my sight again fade
Into my nothingness

Isolation are my acquaintances when –
Ever I peep my heart for the last of my brethren
In the bloodless war of trust and betrayal, when
He cast me into my nothingness

Mystified in total submission
By the sight of a lass in my vision
In whose bed my frailty lays in admission
Her eyes perused into my nothingness

My last breath beat death to its dark time
Before it cut short an old prime
For my sentence was an aborted crime
That ushered me into my nothingness

She seem to be my son’s subterfuge
So tender and loving, who wouldn’t seek refuge
In her? Behold she gave me grainy febrifuge
Coddling into my nothingness

Past days were tauntingly terrific
Drifting in reminiscent repellence that’s febrific,
A memory so haunting and horrific
Delving into my nothingness

I nurse myself from my heart sores
The pain piecing my perplexing pores
I see the bubble of blood which gores
Into my nothingness

Just when i knew the cause for my release
My vein was put at ease,
But the crisis in my head seek no peace
Into my nothingness

Life and its basket of hope
Always holding one with suicide rope,
Dropping choices that one can’t cope
In my nothingness

Will I see my son again?
Will I again be sane?
I wish to feel the sunshine-rain
That will pore into my nothingness

The Convict (Free Verse)

In my head, a voice is singing
In songs of confusion,
There are faces of death all staring at me,
Each with a striking resemblance of my troubles –
The ones that bruised and scars me.

Suddenly, my head became a market place
With bubbles of thoughts hitting each other
There are haunting memories flashing before me
The dark days….

My head remains heavy
The neck could barely carry its troubles
My heart beat faster than a drum
My eyes lost its gaze
Another flash snaps at me and ….
Then i opened my eyes…
“Who are you?”
The lady before me awed!

The Convict (Blank Verse)

He’s a torturer, he’s fear, he’s death,
He’s the tool that plows damnation.
Known as the earth scariest being thing,
Merciless, emotionless and agonizing.

He has made me his toy of torment
Mutilating my mind and body at his play.
I fear that I am dead while I’m still breathing
I know that because I am death’s playing toy!

Strategising, intuiting an escape route
Out of hell’s heaven, waiting on a goof,
I see it coming, its already nearer than I think,
I need one last string to pull, death to death!

So, to kill death, life must be taken,
Its visible possibility is on the edge,
When next he comes I’ll pull my last string
Either way, one of us leaves here alive.

The Convict (Haiku)

Fearful memories,
Marauding sanity still –
Void is a calm thought.

Eyes lost in pale gaze
With confusion rolling in
Life’s camera…dazed!

Formatted old thought –
New pulse of bubble afloat
By the spoilt brain bank.

The Convict (Monoku)

…Pain is only when emotions stretches beyond the heart’s toleration..

The Convict (Haiku) (Escape)

Before the nightfall
The day would remember thee
Who made haste slowly

The Convict (Tanka) (Escape)

Carefully I looked
From the tinge of bravery
I concealed my fears
A death rope on my cuffed wrist
Choked life off my torturer

The Convict (Grook)
If the night was my worst fight
It’d see the tattoo of fear
On my face – so clear
That it gleams with angered-light
And a quest for peaceful vengeance –
For to love is to learn how to hate…
The paradox of life that decides my fate.
Like an innocent devil
Is one crime too much?
They say once you don’t meddle
In someone’s life you lose touch
Of your valued essence
My beloved city
Don’t have pity
For the weak, it feeds from them…


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