Death, Truly Imminent

A ceremony of departure ensues.
The third eye awakens, the god of muse. 
Faces appear in the water and the night sky.
They beg to decipher the meaning of goodbye.
The mouth of torment has no teeth,
yet it devours all that can breathe.
Death brings a dark treat and a gift of curse.
A smile visits the god’s face, blissfully perverse. 

© Aniket More

Mechanical Suicide

In to the night of starry skies and the figures of ancient kind, what have I seen? What am I seeing? 
A sky vomiting the moon, darkness eternal spreads across the land and the clocks resting on the tables, alarm clocks go deaf, nearing, closing, the toll of death.
TV screens flicker, no more PlayStation, a black hole appears sucking life in to the screen, sucking baseball fields, an unfriendly dream. The era of materialistic doom has come and is dancing upon our graves.
The fall of Internet, the rise of devices, suicides, hung by the cable that connected the world. Shatter proof glasses no longer bear the burden, they are breaking, machine made teenagers in making.
Earth, now a factory supplying mechanical brains while the sentiments fall deep in to vain. The rise of rebels, but their limbs were amputated, by the machines you call home, by the machines you call your own. 
The concrete society connected by cables and when the wifi is disabled, they all die in pain, the pain of the unknown. 
Real world, the old world, lost to itself, now rooted with machines, a mechanical story of blood and machine lubricant ensues. 

© Aniket More

I Speak From Above The Ozone Layer 

When the night is quiet, I will swallow the moon.
I’ll be the day and your plight, the ball of fire will now burn you soon.
The day of redemption is upon you, the day of death, a folklore, now to be true. 
I’m the breaker of hemisphere, I’m the awakening in the tides of the volcanoes, I’m transparency, see through. 
You humans, you have brought filth beyond the ozone layer and now it’s depleting, it’s beyond repair.
I’m the mesosphere, dissolving,
I’m the stratosphere suffocation, sweating, unrevealing.
I’m the death of the troposphere, I can no longer bear the fire of the flames that call for annihilation. 
I’m the wailing earth, now burning in the fires of the dark desire that you have brought upon me.
I can no longer save you, I can no longer be your home.
I’m abandonment of the moon, I’m the sadness after death.
I’m the cries of the burning man and the tears of the animals on the land.
I’m the final ray of the sun, I’m the fire in which you will burn.
I’m the flame of extinction and the curse you have called upon yourself.

© Aniket More

My Appointment With God

A palace, divine, crumbling and crushing the living in my mind.
God! Oh sacred deity, your appointment is due, come save me.
Dust, I will become, return to the land.
Come fucking save me! 
You ruthless traitor! 
What have you given to me? This nightmare called life? 
Why do we dance upon the bodies of the dead? Why do we hide behind them when we shoot with riffles? 
The ground opens a scar in healing, the world is in chaos and my God is late. He is fucking late. She is fucking late. 
Do you remember that I’m rotting in silence and time and your so called scriptures that they deem divine. 
The barrier is broken, I’m choking, dementia approaches. 
Rotting universe, rotting is the idea of being, rotting everything.
The moon shatters in to pieces, white and grey-gray. 
Uranus, Saturn collapse to the planets and are no more, the earth is no more. 
I’m floating in time and space, in life and death.
Love lost, a mental thought. 
I’m an immigrant here in space, I’m no longer home.
My world is destroyed, my home is destroyed. My god never came. 
It’s past his appointment. Where the fuck are you? 
Now it’s no more, nothing can be saved and I’m floating in dead space.
My god has finally arrived. Why, oh why did you take so long? 
And with his ascension he pushes a dagger through me betraying me leaving me as a dying atheist. 

© Aniket More

A Radium Forest

Enter the mystical realms of colour scheme.
Black and white, the sky has died and bled on our purple dreams. 

The throat of the moon, white as a stork, dirty as a feather and delicate as a heart. 
A cluster of lukewarm stars in the sky hiding it’s beloved scars.

Footprints on the sand, shimmering tides, the ocean has given its long due reply.
In nature’s hand, as I understand was a message to call me nigh. 

I awake from a desperate dream in an inviting radium forest.
Glowing scars, in the dark, my tomb held me at my sorest. 

© Aniket More