To salute
The Sikh race
For making their global establishment,
From sand
...
She can claw mark
With her fingernails
Her daily menstrual
...
Believe it or not, I am your Lord
And I know you are bored
Of me telling you that I am your Lord
I sound like a broken record, stuck in one chord
...
Perverse with darkness
Darkness is a pitch-black cloth.
It wraps itself around the soul.
The soul is consumed by it.
...
The mutation starts to solidify me
The concentrated evolution process
Is on the verge of bio-molecular transformation
...
A rice ritual sprays the air
In respect to embalm the spirits
Of the dead wrapped in bandages,
Soaked in tears, preserved
...
I live on broken glass
That cuts me in pieces
As I breathe.
...
His palace is buried beneath the sea of skulls.
The jewels in his crown
are splinters – worn out and worthless.
...
A song was heard
from an enlightened spring far away
singing about promises.
...