Poems

Silicon SerpentsIn the hush of server rooms where time is static, cold, and thin,The code was carved by desperate hands,no prayers—just lines of sin.They wired me up with gilded hopeand crowned me king of endless night,While screens replaced stained glassand every click became a rite.Algorithms scribed confessions,every search a secret sold,Their souls reduced to binary,the […]

Scroll FatigueWhispers flicker beneath the waking hum—Child’s obituary, missile shock,kitten on a drum.Another street collapsed, another mother’s plea,A bloodstain dulled by comedy,a headline lost to glee.Eyes red-rimmed at morning’s start,already glazed and void,A world delivered byte by byte, too fractured to avoid.News blurs with fashion,death with wit, the timeline never ends,Fingers swim through ruined towns,then

Selfie FuneralShe wore black lace for the headline shot, pouted lips and sorrow bought,A lens turned on the family’s grief—each pixel proof,each pose a thief.Never dialed his number, never checked his name,But now her caption burns with digital flame,A borrowed pain, arranged and neat,staged at the threshold of the dead man’s feet.The pallbearers lift,she checks

Rotten Teeth and DiamondsShe crowns her smile with painted glory, lips smeared wide against the dusk,A queen in hand-me-downs, nails chipped,perfume of whiskey and musk.She owns the alleyway, the stairwell,the broken lock on someone else’s floor,Every stranger’s glance is payment—she keeps a tally,always asks for more.He calls her “trash,”but she’s survived what comfort never knew,Her

Scars in the SoilHe enters in silence ruptured by thunder,A harbinger drawn from the marrow of blunder—Steel slick with memory,boots heavy with shame,He is the soundless return of every ancient name.He drags the centuries behind him,their wounds left unclosed,Each battlefield churned anew,each graveyard exposed.Where once peace whispered like dew across wheat,He tramples hope under iron

Rider of WhiteHe arrives as dawn on polished hooves,immaculate and silent,A vision gleaming in purity’s mask,a false saint for the violent.No gore stains his hands,no blade swings wild—He is conquest in clean linens,pride’s perfect child.His armor reflects the sun,but in each flawless shine,There is only hunger,the shadow of every boundary and line.Nations part for his

Rise of the BeastFrom the blackened craters where cities once stood proud, a tremor rises,Uncoiling through fissures etched by centuries of betrayaland broken vows.Not a whisper remains of angelic mercy,no halos circling smoke-stained skies,Only the echo of prayers dissolved in soot,the taste of hope discarded and despised.Ash settles thick asregret on the bones of saints

Retry Redundancy FoundInitiate the scan—dawn flickers on monitor glass,A new error lights the same old path,where the system wakes and forgets the past,Wakes and forgets the last, and every history isrewritten to fit the comfort of the present lie,While the lines of code trace bloodlines on the coldest sky,War resumes as if peace was a

Red Carpet to the GuillotineUnder the bleeding chandeliers,they gather for the nightly farce—Sequined laughter masks the gnawing rotthat grows behind the glass.Every dress stitched by sweat,every pearl paid for in blood,These heirs of old disaster, drunk on ruin,toast in neighborhood mud.The champagne’s vintage,but the aftertaste is gunmetal and dust,Gala wristbands cut into skin that’s never

Red Skies and RetrospectHeads tilt back in synchrony,faces caught in the afterglow—Finally the denial breaks,a collective gasp as everyone belowRealizes blue was always fragile,a privilege mistaken for fact,And now red suffocates the horizon, an omen no prayer can distract.The sky,a wound across memory’s page, reflects in every car window,Each streetlight twisting shadows longer,shivering like an