As It Is Ought Not Be

Under the domes that dream

Darts a raven

The clever little clandestine one who never seems

To have e0ver had gotten over the recital to harp the clear sky in.

When the charred share a bone

To their own surprise, they hark on the simple and sad

As if a light went away

In the pariah that passed

 

On a new moon night

While they chorded on and resounded

A lesser known ghost they knew renewed

An alternate truth in midst the gullies

Where a gulp of water came, and went

To the parched soil’s comfort.

And there, were delivered to others

On the deserted night, when the sky beamed from the arrival.

 

Where the plight of the feathers came to be

With the dust settled and roared the time

Along the disarray of hosts, tryin to be

The last meal, sumptuous and satisfying.

The kind was a kin in trouble

Alone, but not singled

Parting a ghoul – a clear misery

They were trying to untangle a fold left in history

 

Where the letters lit fits in fire

And the tomb’s repraisal gauged a victory.

Neither one free

From its own satire

A way to march upon the idle tree

Cast and set upon a pyre

Where the skyline reached the land

The figures scaled flames’ desires.

 

Between ought not be and did not see

The ‘as it is’ came to be

The chair chords carefully, a sentence from words

Alas! The melody – muted, mutilated mounds to mundane.

The choir crafts a cringe coming from the binge

One that satiated the satire and sooted the flame.

Ashes to a shire – the little man’s game

Bashes the bazaar – the wizards and the vixens.

 

© Prateek Joshi and WordPress, 2017

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