Archive for March, 2014

Oblivion River

enslaved_-_frost_inside_2With the dying sun and moon, starts the process of shadow sea.

He who bears will witness, his body laid in heavy stone grave.

Behind the veil of sound, earth wept, summer’s light disappear.

His body placed in the boat. Winter and darkness wins.

I will come back. I will come again. When winter’s spirits are weak, I will rise again.

Under the earth, the hidden world resides.

Behind the clouds against the west, the winter and autumn, holding a party.

It is cold and dark in the deep, grow where only shadows.

Where there is darkness creeping, the skin reads horror.

Dead rests in white garments behind the heavy cold stone doors,

but listen to death army you occasionally hear the song.

PoetbabuImage

Armageddon

For the prophecy that has been told

My only voice, the only voice

Shouting, screaming, crying in demise

No one is here, no one could hear

But those who stand along fear

But that race is long gone by

The time is near, this time its fear

The life’s long gone, the end is near

There is no time to wash the sins

There is no time to save you beings

There is no time to fulfill your dreams

All you see is the fire in the sky

Yes, that means the Satan is near

The god we prayed left us long by

From the corner of your eyes

you see the sacred souls peer

All you can do is sit back and pray

But no one is there to hear you say

You cannot be granted sanity

There is no use for all your vanity

Like a breeze of cold wind your soul tears apart

Every last effort you made, all gone in vain

No longer you feel the pain

Balls of fire fall, winds of death

Storms sent direct from hell

The earth shatters like your faith in god

The hell devours your soul with heart

Never had you thought of say

“Hallowed be thy name”

Who do you expect to save you in your time of need.

YOUNUS YOUSUF

Takht Shri Patna Sahib

Guru Gobind Singh ji (22 December 1666 — 7 October 1708) was the tenth Guru of Sikhism. He was born in Patna, Bihar in India and became a Guru on 11 November 1675, at the age of nine years, succeeding his father Guru Tegh Bahadur. He was the leader of the Sikh faith, a warrior, a poet, and a philosopher. In the Sikh society, Guru Gobind Singh is considered a perfect example of manhood; highly educated, skilled in horsemanship, armed combat, chivalrous, and generous in character.

Language: Punjabi
Location: Patna

A Film by
Manmeet Singh Bhatia
(poetbabu)

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Orange Blossom.

Photo0705_001I saw a little raven, walking down the park.

You were adoring it from the bench, below the bark.

Then a nasty cat got there and mama got scared too.

Then you cried me for help and honey, I didn’t mind, I did it for you.

My bag it’s full of books you say, homework’s a big load.

and mamma’s bit worked up with cooking and chores.

mommy need some rest, grandpa his meds and greedy aunt some food.

then welcome Mr Kitchen guy, who won’t mind, he’ll cook how mamma do.

Oh Orange, let’s fly like birdies in the sky.

to the place where tooth fairy hides.

or let’s just call them on your side.

and get dresses and gifts of all size.

aahemm greedy

well I passed by Christmas yesterday and saw Santa there

asked him for your barbie and a magic bear.

clueless Santa deck the halls to DO DA DO DA DO.

I got you all and more of it coz I do it for you.

It’s sunny and you’re tiny says mamma get in.

You’ll swing down with the swings and fly with the wind.

But Orange wants a castle and smash it down with booboo.

Well, daddy’s got your back honey, so let’s go out and jump like kangaroos do.

All hail the blossom charm, so swift.

Orange of the blossom land, tender lit.

Of her aww, of her winks, of her hair, of her kisses.

All hail Orange the Blossom princess.

Na Bujji kadu?

-Poetbabu

Sadistic Bastard (Chapter 2) – Bastards and Bitches.

IMG_0936Dust your knuckles,
punch my nose.
Kinky mama’s boy,
hit me more.
Please make me roar.

Throw me in and throw me out.
Smash my head with mirror and wall.
No point in running now.
Bloody mama’s boy please make me roar.

I am your chosen killer
and i chose this saw for you.
Usually i am anti-torture,
only this time it’s you.

You pay for what you get,
you own what you pay for.
It’s not the goodbyes that hurt,
but the flashbacks that follow.

Stare with your bare breasts
move your hips, make me moan.
Lovely untidy whore,
Take me home.

I know you are loving it.
Roll your drums,
coz you are fucking it.
Ugly and tidy whore,
take me home.

I am a tainted lover.
I am good to screw.
Cold murder after a candlelight,
coz this time it’s you.

-Poetbabu

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