Poetry|Mistaken

Mistaken over a glass of juice, saw drinking behind a glass-door it was one fine afternoon, time for siesta post the sunny noon a peaceful mountain valley lives around the hut, with abundant trees and birds, twittering since the time of dawn. Saw throats moving sip by Sip enjoying the flavour and tongues Swiping the

Poetry|The bloody globe

I just want peace was my litany So deprived of this word my ears I feel blood seeping from my eyes Rather than tears And I taste the taste of copper My tongue wary of food it touches That rivers have flown of this blood On this very earth               What do I tell of my