Rage
Rajkumar Panthoiren *
With a muffler round my neck,
Sitting on a nice chair
With a sound tin roof to spare me from the rain,
I'm laughing with disgust at those who are living bubble lives
And I feel wise just for two seconds.
Yeah, only two.
But I look at the way they laugh back
And point their guns at me.
I know for sure, they are just like me.
Maybe they are even me,
Those drunken bastards.
I know you are merciless like this rain
And so messed up like the drains.
I see you and you make me ill with diarrhea.
Remember this that
I am gonna hit you with my poems
And hit you sans stop till you die choked with your own blood.
Then only my black-white tinted soul will float back to the grave
Where my mother had me buried.
You, if your sh*tty brain and tarred heart remember, had shot me dead like a dog
And I couldn't do a thing right then.
But not now, 'cause I'm already a ghost that won't die.
Yes, you hear me now?
I'll scribble the words
On walls, on people, on souls, on demons,
On YOU
And scratch your black heart till red.
I won't stop
(Your god won't tell you why.)
So Dark Ones,
You'll see my rage now.
Shall trample your pride over your blood,
And dump your bodies in the lake
Where you used to dump innocent ones with pleasure.
Evil fools, go and bury your guns, your clothes and your f**king pride—
Something more evil is coming your way.
HELL, my.
* Poem written by Rajkumar Panthoiren (NC Ren) for e-pao.net
The poet can be contacted at panthoirk94(at)gmail(dot)com
This poem was webcasted on January 13 2015.
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