cyriac maliakkal


The future had captured the legacy of mind
the outpouring commitment of  
suicidal world.
she was quiet at the dark day hanged 
In a cloth.
did not produced a sweat tongue  of 
release about her.
world was darkned by its colour.
Readers became cried,wept and then
There was fine vocabulary to call
The news.
Sweat dresses had gone into 
strange pilgrimage.
World shot the light 
She was the great difficulty of the
Tarnished man.
He was vomitted his pleasured blood.
I had no prophecy to capture for
Could not do it as a myopia.
Tongue it lost its capacity to deliver
The words.
It became covered with cancer.
Eyelids dreamt for the clear eyes and ears 
Sweats  and perspiration ran 
Through the body.
The mouth was ready to vomit.
The man never wiped the blood in his
Although he had a tongue of taste 
Evaporated  the agony of his
The affirmative complaints about her.
He was quite unremarkable with those
Notorious phenomenon.
Delivered as the accusations above the
Tarnish of the colourless world.
There was no one to blame for the
All the time was unconscious and
She was tarnished her body
several poets and painters raved
Abou her.
The man he went into barefoot.
He was towards the savaged tongues 
Indians and Eliot see it as a destiny;
Never fought for against it.
He wept for the sweet current of
his personal blood.