FIRE OF MOODS

  I wronged you,           I knew I did, I ignored you,           I broke our creed. I grew weak,           And took a break, I sought peak,           And troubled the lake. You reached out,           But I ignored, You did shout,           While yet I snored. You did pray,           While I was drunk, I was prey,           Unto books and funks. You did stay,           For so very long, I cannot allay,           This burden of wrong. Now I see,           That which you saw, I was he,           So blind to his flaw. I so hope,           That it's not too late, How do I cope,           If this is fate. I have learnt,           A very big lesson, I'm like a cent,           Totally gone missing. Do forgive me,           And have me back, Do relieve me,           From this haunty dark. I wronged you,           I knew I did, I ignored you,           I broke our creed. #El_Magnifico™

  He had no sooner entered the arena, when he caught sight of Smart smiling at him from the VIP section above the roaring crowd. Everything had been perfect since he woke up that morning. But not anymore, as everything seem to feel wrong. The quirky smile that gave away at the edge of Smart's lips was something he had seen before, and it definitely wasn't something good. The last time Cosmos saw that smile, he lost his best friend to the cold hands of death, and he can sense that ambience hovering over him again. As he walked towards the ring, his heart sank with fear and anxiety. He made his way up the short stairs and got into the ring from between the ropes. His intro music  Thunder,  by  imagine dragons  was cut short by the sinister tone of the  Zombie dance thriller  by  Michael Jackson,  and the crowd erupted with cheers and excitement. The lights went out, and a moving spotlight travelled west from the north wing of the arena, where it stopped to illuminate a hooded box

  Terror has taken a hold of me, To remind me of my fear for death, To keep at bay and stay at home, And I must fight for me alone. To live this time is nought but vain, When one lies sick the rest are pain, For none who cares could help to save, For save himself is no more brave. The earth doth quake at survival's call, Life becomes like a funeral pall, The scars of death emerge in life, So stand aloof and face your strife. Shall I live like madness in the brain, And grow weak from the scars that remain, Or shall I rise up and leave behind, The poison that lives within my mind. #El_Magnifico™

  I warned her afore, Of the friends that she makes, And I did even more, Of her fanciful rakes. That sacrilege be to lore, And knowledge be bereft, Ignorance is the harbour, Unto which she cleft. Off and away she flew, To her rake undefiled, Back she came all anew, With her wits well beguiled. For her feathers were shed, And her pride painted red, Returned her with peg leg, In her knees for to beg. #El_Magnifico™ [[Published in "Raven Cage Poetry and Prose Ezine (Issue 50)"]]

(Of bits and bites...) Within these dark crevices, An old music strikes a replay note, On the chords of pain. (Invading forces...) Hostile troops seethes through the narrow crevices, Of bits and bytes, Sauntering deeper into the darkest region, With playbacks of red-slaughter- Where dreams of Dreams, Dreams dreams of horrific conviction, And bodies upon bodies stinks acrid sickness. (Of bits and bites...) When the crevices, Becomes stricken by venoms from the mist of time, Dreary and grimly, To become slaves to the days of yore. Pondering thickets, Of unfair sentences. Re-collections, Whose armed forces Razes the rampart of time, To uncover wounds, In broken images of broken vows and broken ties. (Indelible tapestries...) Never to be forgotten, We yield, When our memories, Becomes bits, That bites our soul. #El_Magnifico™ [[Published in "Raven Cage Poetry and Prose Ezine (Issue 13)"]]

  Stage 1 Stage 2 Stage 3 Mercy Credit: Pen-Play Portraiture #El_Magnifico™

  Look unto the wonders of creation, Perhaps it may not be clear, Every thing that exists, Is for the goal it bears. The trees and the earth, All has its own role, The seas and the air, Whose purpose we all know. The wars and the droughts, The floods and the pestilence, Everything born of nature, All makes its own sense. The power of self will, Has given man a choice, That his purpose he fulfils, Or become a mute voice. What else does life hold, If purpose isn't dealt with? For life would've been sold, To the phantoms of death's pit. Know ye thy purpose, For to it you are bound, Without which you are lost, And with which you are found. #El_Magnifico™