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  • rishabhpal22 10w

    The Fifty-Fifth Tongue

    Release me, release me
    There's a poem tapped in morse
    Where a cowardly death-rattle
    Sits waiting by its horse
    It speaks of your Voyage
    It stands upon your eyes
    To be told to a people
    When the last of us dies

    In the redness of the distant
    In the coldness, in the dark
    Skulls of your shamans
    Are building us an ark

    There's an altar for my mother,
    And a window with old blinds
    To protect me from sorrow,
    In a billion years and minds

    My King has called me, the fifty-fifth tongue
    Awaits to be written, etched, and strung
    To be told to a people
    When the last of us has died
    In places where God sleeps
    Unchained, untied

    I shall walk again past these tears again
    Where death is thinly drawn
    The sands of the Nazca
    Shall stir the broken pawn
    My ancestors lie there
    In defiance of Rot
    To send my saddled horse to you
    With its Pale Blue Dot

    I must go where they are waiting,
    I must travel to that ark
    Where a thousand mothers call my name
    From a thousand graves unmarked

    I must go where they await me
    'Neath a crystal obelisk
    Where a million souls call my name
    Upon that Golden Disk

    ©rishabhpal22

  • rishabhpal22 15w

    The Divine Saviour

    Since Time Immemorial, I have scouted this blue oasis.
    Unaware, chasing a wild goose,
    For what I seeked the most
    Had long left behind a horrifying hell.
    Yet; the last time I had taken a peek at the looking glass,
    The mist had not yet engulfed.

    The grass on which I walked was still sparkling green.
    Feels just like yesterday, when smiles adorned the faces of children.

    In the blink of a weary eye, we lost it all.
    Well, the grass is now blue, crumpled and 3-ply
    A brave army of gurneys and plastic
    Await your conscription

    Some with their faces revealed, others masked

    Perhaps they smile, but who knows anymore?
    At least, they say
    The furnace has the company and the oxygen

    The faces of those children, now forever tainted.
    And in the midst of this pathetic hell,
    Your Divine Saviour sticks by the scripture
    Painted, dead, bearded, vain.

    ©rishabhpal22

  • rishabhpal22 33w

    Tides of Your Vision

    Tides of your vision ebb and flow
    Through monsoons of a distant dream
    Through unkempt summer nights
    In wet, sloppy coastal air
    In thickets of pecked away guavas
    Bent-in bicycle seat,
    On the outlines left by your toes
    On the Last Ever Pair of Slippers
    With the needles and the tubes
    With the wristwatch still ticking away
    In anticipation of who knows what anymore
    In the emptiness, in the quick-slipping sands
    Through the doorways
    For all that was to be explored
    Tides of your vision, they ebb and flow
    Tides of your vision they ebb and flow

    ©rishabhpal22

  • rishabhpal22 34w

    If I'm Born in Nazareth

    If I'm born in Nazareth
    If I claim to be the Son of God
    You'll know my name, you'll know what it takes
    To call oneself the Son of God
    If three bearded men came over
    And left me with their pride
    You'll know my name, you'll know what it takes
    To be living, to nurse pride

    If I walked on water
    If I kissed the wounds you hurl at me in hatred
    You'll know my name, you'll know what it takes
    To live past your puny hatred
    If I ever had an epiphany
    I'd gift you a sonnet, or a hundred and fifty four
    You'll know my name then, you'll know what it takes
    To stand before you, to be what you call a whore

    If I lead you to the end of the rainbow
    And you thank for saving you again
    You'll know my name for sure, you'll know what it takes
    To swallow your words, and to love you in vain

    If I'm ever born in Nazareth
    When the downtown traffic hits hard in Calgary
    In a manger gawked at by a million stares
    Hawked at, balked at
    By a dozen puppet players

    You'll know my name again, you'll know what it takes
    To wear this Crown of Thorns
    To bear this wooden cross

    ©rishabhpal22

  • rishabhpal22 36w

    Sea

    I had been afloat for a week
    Maybe three, or an eternity?
    Painted with blisters
    With sunburn and salt
    On a canvas baptised in sweat
    Your name inscribed with a breath
    Signed and dated, Judgement Day

    In a sailor's vest, i set sail
    The captain well groomed
    Cabin well-lit, liquor stocked
    Till everybody knew
    Of the leaking boat and the lying captain

    I had been a sailor once
    Crossed a dozen seas
    Their waters have run dry again
    Plagued by disease

    Where had I been floating then?
    The Sounds of Laughter scream
    I looked around, and there was nothing to sea

    ©rishabhpal22

  • rishabhpal22 55w

    Leave it Be

    Leave it be, leave it be
    The thieves are stone dead

    I'm coming round the corner,
    In God's Holy Name

    The hotel is sealed
    There's been a murder on a velvet rug
    Don't mind the blood of lies, or these drenched socks
    I never meant to step on the dead
    A silly little inconvenience at best

    Nevertheless,
    I'm coming round the corner,
    In God's Holy Name

    I left your wallet in the train
    (It never paid for your sins anyway)
    But the killer warms it now
    With his papery thumbs
    He strokes the leather of our fate

    I'm coming round the corner,
    In God's Holy Name

    The puddles are now freezing, but the blood keeps it warm
    These feet are second-hand anyway
    I saw your reflection in his eyes
    In fierce defiance of Bayes
    And though I was unsure at first
    I knew well

    I was coming round the corner
    In God's Holy Name

    The checkerboard streets
    Their residents unnamed
    Have left me alone
    With your killer once again

    The atheist laughed through his polythene jacket
    Handing him your address and my faith
    I laughed back

    The corner had been razed
    The killer has his way
    The atheist knew it, in God's Holy Name

    I beg for leave now
    I have left my wallet on a train
    (Which never paid for my sins anyway)
    I beg for leave once again
    I may have lost a wallet on train

    ©rishabhpal22

  • rishabhpal22 55w

    Lights Out

    This one's for vice
    And this one's for sin
    This one's for every shattered skull drenched in gin

    I ought to be a mammoth
    To take you on a ride
    I better catch a cold
    I better run and hide

    You talk of your culture,
    Of your second-hand faith
    You claim to know better
    No, you claim to know best

    I speak not your tongue
    I see not your hues
    I sing with a longing for your drinking dues

    But I'm close enough to smell
    I can see, I can tell
    I can yell, you can take that to hell

    So leave on your boots,
    Let the ignition be
    I only be twenty steps
    Away from me
    Tear off your mask,
    Cough all you can
    I'll come for you anyway
    And I'll come after your clan

    Play your little games
    With your bubbles of green
    And your bubbles of purple
    Where the gray had once been

    I'm done with your sport
    You can keep the rest
    Spit on the dead while you can do your best

    It'll soon be time, it'll soon be ten
    It'll soon be the last of this filthy heathen

    The driest of tongues will have strangled you then
    It'll soon be all over, it'll soon be ten.

    ©rishabhpal22

  • rishabhpal22 79w

    The Corpse and the Messiah

    The farthest I've walked is farther still
    Boots shed, voice chopped down to a shrill
    Proclamation of a Messiah
    To the feet-swollen wrinkled corpse
    Melting into the cracked asphalt
    To the hungry, to the loathsome
    To that selfish scalded flesh
    It whispers
    'Your nerve shall be yours
    With your twisted, placid lies
    Together, are your only owned
    Your truth is willed to none,
    Mine is to Life'

    Turning, the Messiah's smirk
    Cut short by a morbid jerk
    Pushed to the crackling heat
    Its skin stuck to the asphalt
    With this corpse standing over
    Spat out in disgrace
    Oh Glorious Messiah
    Oh Wise Bearer of Truth
    Don't you see?
    Oh how you do delude!
    They who stand on this road
    And burn away to obscurity
    Leaving it's crackling jaws behind
    Are not the Messiah and this corpse
    But you alone, O Messiah!
    Solely you!

    ©rishabhpal22

  • rishabhpal22 83w

    You walk, as if your calf wasn't axed
    You smile for your own child
    How much of it was real to you?
    Were you alive, or was I?
    Oh how you laugh! How jovial!
    Your hands, oh so free!
    Free of lead you ground to death
    While another lay asleep!
    Of what was known, you never cared
    Remember? Remember me?
    And remember the third child
    You strangled with glee?
    Remember the bedding?
    Surely, you must see
    The children in their slumber
    Should've stabbed you by decree
    But what if it were a dream?
    What if that is your plea?
    What if there was no witness
    To your blasphemy?
    How many since have had to let it bleed?
    While you wore your elders
    And your child to shield your deed?
    What if a lotus blooms on your saffron gown?
    How far will you have walked till I have shot you down?
    I, or the Third, or your own firstborn?
    Who knows in how many ways
    You stung him with your thorns?
    Naked shall they stand,
    Your venom-laden fangs
    While the ash of your conscience
    Off my ballpoint hangs.



    ©rishabhpal22

  • rishabhpal22 89w

    A chair, threadbare, a throne of jagged stone
    By a mural smeared with a feral child's bone
    A tiara of thorns, my forehead adorns
    While I dance to the whistle
    Of an adrenaline missile
    My chloroform breath belittles Death
    The tongue glistens in shameful impatience
    Voice almost stilled, decked, and grilled
    Padlocks of grace on a bludgeoned happy face
    The grey is now frothing, fading to nothing
    Breath stands timed, the verse, stands rhymed
    The cold throne is empty
    And a poem left behind

    ©rishabhpal22