The Rose-Tinted Eyelids
Poem no. 38, 31st August 2026
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He counted ten oboes and ten thousand rifles
And millions more of fifes and billions of trumpets
An armistice is but a pact between knaves, he thought …
Puppets, march! went the chant
Arms and legs writhed, merged into spectacle
So he closed his eyes
Nothing ever passed beyond his rose-tinted eyelids
And ten carillons and ten thousand quills surged forth
He cried out in joy
The trenches felt like the velvety scent of holy wine
And white banners fluttered around him, jubilating
So the gates of the Universe truly do matter for the all...
And he opened his eyes again
Countrymen, come! he shouted himself hoarse
The butchers fished voraciously
Harvesters thrashed about, brutalised upto their souls
And wolves with fleshy maws
Drank from carmine coloured lakes
An armistice was but a pact between knaves, he realised …
And his rose-tinted eyelids closed anew
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