Sunday, March 20, 2011

The House




The House so busy
The House so full
The House full of people
The House is Haunted.

Through its corridors I pass
An eerie wind blows by
The doors and windows rattle
The house- a silent solitary lass.

There's darkness all around
The people- asleep or dead?
The gentle moonlight streams forth
And illuminates those laid

Bodies mutilated
Centuries of oppression
They breathe, these bodies
But are they alive?

Towards dawn
A phantom figure
Does his rounds
Through the unending corridors.

A quest for something
Power, Knowledge, Immortality?
Drives this phantom around

A lean shriveled figure
Can't properly see, can't properly hear
It remembers the golden days
When it ruled over the bodies
That now lie at the maze.

I am awake- not the body
I can see- not the Phantom
Then who am I?

Silently observing this haunted house
I see dead people walking
And working in the world at large.

Bodies shout
Bodies cry
Bodies try to live
A normal life.

But I watch and think
Is it possible
For the bodies
To ever live?

The Phantom has sucked them dry
Used their lives to live his own
And though weak, he still rules.
Will it ever end?

I see the Phantom
Trying to regain his lost kingdom
And still command mastery
Over those bodies.

No living thing survives in this house
Plants wither, animals die.
But the bodies go on working
And old Phantom King reigns
This Palace of Ruins. 


2 comments:

Mr. A. said...

now this is what i call...poetry.... too damn good...too damn good!!!!!!

the silent observer said...

lol..thanks, am blushing now. :P