Trotro stories #10 The dead fish

Details details, trotro 
Memories on smells that lingers 

A dead fish, a smoked fish 
An invasion of my nostril 

Must I be tortured through 
This journey home, I plead thee 

Squeezed on both sides 
Smell that engulf like physical approach 

Chocking on each breath I take 
Must I be tortured for my peswa 

Oh but who would be brave 
To vent a comment, a hero 

Come out of the cowardly stay 
And say something, say something 

Like must we suffer this torture 
Of lingering smell, dead fish, smoked fish 

Something odd that smell, so funny 
Invading my personal space 

My nightmarish voyage 
On the trotro with smell 

Armageddon, A craze

We find each others self destructive button 
In times of war, I will bring war to your door step 
And we press push until we explode

Blaming games and ping pong battle, squash 
Hitting balls to the wall with rage
Announcing our displeasure pronouncing our war stunts

Battle lines drawn, war songs sang, war mask worn 
Drums beat to heighten our anxiety 
Pulling out all the daggers with stained old blood 

We are expected to act on instinct 
Taste the blood on our tongues of our enemies
Welcome rage, live in the moment of welcoming death

Death as pleasure theirs or ours
It matters not, no one is to live this 
Stained, drenched land, let no one alive 

We came with good intentions 
Now turned fanatics breaking all the eggs
In the birds' nest, stamping on wet shells

With yolk that sludge on the side. 
Squashing them like a blender 
Mixing their essence with the dirty sand 

There would be no tomorrow, today as judgement day
There would be no salvage value none wanted 
No common grounds to be left after this dance

In the center of the volcanic eruption 
No one is to go looking for gold 
Or any such rich minerals, tell phoenix not to rise 

No one is to go talking of peace 
This as a sacrilege to the cause 
Punishable by death a gruesome death it shall be 

Now would you believe me, if I told you 
This is a romantic poem, a very romantic poem, a peace poem 
A love poem, a heart poem, just in abstract settings 

A dance with the stars

To fly or to hang

Nocturnal fruit harvesters 

Dancing in the night    

Burnt memories

I had to empty my wardrobe, every nook and crannies 
The other day, clearing it all out, the other day 

I had to go down on my painful knees 
To open boxes with dust and cobwebs hold 

I had to empty it all out, all my worth and riches 
Not leaving any behind for nostalgia and its cronies 

Outside I stood over a metal drum in the darkness of the night
Filled with papers and pictures from past memories archived 

A few I picked and lamented over for a while, memories 
Occasions past flashed, drew projected pictures on me 

Sending me to that time again, that moment again 
With all the characters and their roles played 

Then a sudden sharp pain pierced my heart 
To let go, I dropped that memory the weight so heavy 

Into the metal drum filled with my treasures of time 
Awaiting spark to burn to ashes, I will watch it burn 

Obsolete memories no longer wanted, tainted 
No longer required to be remembered, with lost value 

For each with the pain it brings as constant 
I believe I am more angered by the time 

The wasted time and the treasures to be thrown away 
The hardest part of it all, that refuses to go away 

Even after being packed in the metal drum, set alight 
And burnt to ashes, it stays, it stays and stays 

A scent, an act, a resemblance, a flash back 
A word, a laughter, a song, a date in time 

These burnt memories seem never to go away 
They stay, the harshest of it all, they stay 

Fresh as new

Bright, fresh as new stands 

The birth of a new day, green 

Seeds germinating