War-torn

Stumbling along with rifle in hand.
Shoot!
There's confusion everywhere..
Shoot! Shoot!
The boy's dead - buried in sand.
Killed softly by my blank stare.

There is no returning from here.
I've chosen this road to take.
I'm marching on, fear or no fear.
Wished I could turn - Oh for Christ sake!

History Recorded

Blank sheet of paper.
Then scribbled upon. Torn up.
Flip to the next page.

Never Ending Route March

On this route we follow,
we cannot stop.
Though our dreams and minds are hollow,
we cannot stop.

For stopping is to give up
And that means death.
Death to the ideals of a nation,
Birth of a wanton generation.

So we're the saints that keep marching on.
A march we have to believe in.
To give hope to those who had started
And to encourage those who are still here on
This never ending route march
So that all will continue...

Worldliness

Why do we do just the normal?
The usual,
The boring,
And what is formal?
We,
the world,
are weary.
Till teary eyes are blurry,
Seek no more.