Every prophecy of fame
end in a dried up claim
I hang my head in vain
in unbearable shame.
When will I adorn myself
with robes of royalty?
When will my head wear a crown
that my black heart yearns for?
How long will I linger
on unholy crossroads?
How long will I dream of sweet wine
while holding cups of moonshine?
I sense my sadness
deep entrenched in my bones,
My concealed sorrows
gnawing at the marrow.
I break every commandment
etched onto my cranium
As I thrust the needle deep
along long intakes of vapour.
Battery acid flow
through my veins
carving in to my flesh
corroding the very soul.
The scent of mary jane
beckons to a long night's slumber
The thoughts in me
stir like molten grease.
A thin film of latex
could have denied my being
A reaper's scythe
could take it all away.
Yet I am so ungrateful
for I dream more than mere bread
My desires reach for
beyond clear skies and dark fathoms.
I crave for a land, a realm
to call my own
than the prozac nation
whose reign I bear.
I long to stand on the shore
and howl at the savage moon
than be a crow among ravens
that scavenge for morsels.
When will I adorn myself
with robes of royalty?
When will my head wear a crown
that my black heart yearns for?
How long will I linger
on unholy crossroads?
How long will I dream of sweet wine
while holding cups of moonshine?
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- Anup Asokan, Leicester
As usual, I have posted an explanation for the poem in the comments section
