An ode to my father


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If I never shed a tear for you
It’s because you never left
If I never saved a prayer for you
It’s because I haven’t said farewell yet

You never said goodbye
you slept through the night
your tired eyes looked well rested
your face content with a job well done
embracing the quiet sleep that evaded you for so long

where rivers flow;
where the sun never sets
and the moon never rests
I know you rest well
in the bossom of eternal grace

No matter,
your legacy lives on
your faith saved for posterity
thank you, my dear father
Thank you, for being you.

Paapaa, I miss you

 

 

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unfettered


The septum of my heart, broken
diffusing red with the occult
weak, listless, untenable
wayfarer, languid and lost

Horns for a crown
cerebrum on fire
phallic lust
eyes wide open

wartorn, savage lands
landscape of my heart
weary from trials
assailed by demons

soul lamenting, spirit torn
estranged, wrenched, emasculated
blood red skies
reigning on me

hallowed grounds
oblation for guilt
my weakness, his strength
new wine for old blood

Everlasting I am


Flying from west to east
Concealed in-between the mist
Safe soaring on the clouds
Empty, alive and proud.

No voices to be heard
Not the whisper of a word
No fear can reach my being
My soul ascends seeing

The pain be left behind
Eyes that are no longer blind.
Air, earth and blood
Quiet and undisturbed
Bids my humanity goodbye
As my spirit reaches new heights.

Everlasting I am
For the Eternal Son Of Man
Gave his breath to redeem
Those whom the world had not yet seen.

Erstwhile dead,now forever alive
I foresee the moment I am to arrive,
In glory no longer transitory
To witness the beginning of an old told story.

Beast of Burden


this-was-you

This was you at your best

You, the creature behind the veil
Why do you hide behind the smile?
your guile  & deceit,
the shame of being you
Ruminating and toiling,
The work of your hands-
denigrating the innocents.
Towards what end?
Your scribbles of poetry
on life and death
why does it matter?
who will remember?
your power and your wealth,
silenced by the face of death.
All of your glory,
decrepit and dilapidated
Even the grave,
unleashes the worms on your carcass
your bones, an inconvenience-
to the grave
I stare at the mirror,
I see you-
Bluntly staring back at me.
a scowl etched on your temperament
In the end,
what matters is the shards-
of kindness and love
that perpetuates the essence of your spirit
Not your name, not your children
but the unseen gifts of grace,
that you shared with strangers-
transmuting & transmogrifying
from  generation to generation
Though your name may never be known
and while history will forgive your presence,
your spirit will live on embodied in the culture
of men who were recipients of your love
this-is-you

This is your future

–Prashant Thomas

Listless…


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When words have lost their power;
Silence, more meaningful than asseveration
Spellbound to the conflicts of the heart
Staring vacantly into the void

Every utterance mulled over,
Petrified of rousing wrath.
Averse to the sarcasm and scrutiny.
Face downcast, ominous desolation

Exasperation spiraling to impotent rage;
Defenses broken
Helplessly witnessing the erosion –
of all things sacred.

This chasm, unbridgeable;
Veil of uncertainty –
drawn to blind the visage.
Scrimmaging to gain the –
moral high ground.

Slipping and sliding headlong
Drowning into an abyss
Past the event horizon
Hope eviscerated.

–Prashant Thomas