Friday, 15 June 2018




The whole azure is overcastted of ash,
 Woe wind wraps wild woodland,
 Eyes' tears loath the visage,
 Odious death makes hell on earth.

 What gain has gotten from scrimmage?
 Searing corpus, shrouds and screams!
 Now how can absolve the sins?
 No salvation, no peace, only remorse.

 Kingship, crown, don't make heart happy,
 Smiting, war of blood, at end-nothing!
 Land could be conquered by barbarity,
 But is there any thing which tranquillize the mind?

 To Kaling who made jaded and rock?
 Who's sinner? no one but it's me, Ashok.

Jack Elixir

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