Stars aspire to drink nectar from the burnt up bosom of the comets

That fall down and collapse.

Someone still desires  to rise up 

And face 

The brute –

Between my death and your immortality,

Stands the howling beast mimicking God.

It lifts up its claws full of sharp nails.

The cross never fails

To shine,

Though Lancelot’s sword cuts flesh within as Guinevere’s tresses of golden hair hide her naked breast.

Nails can feel the  neutrality of the death knell.

Bats seek shelter

Deep into the crevices of hidden mountains,

Where volcanos dare speak up the language of anger, protest, furore,

Amalgamation.

Are bastards born only to learn the art of destruction?

Lips cling to lips as the fountain of nectar springs up from the stolen

Womb of the fragile damsel.

The warrior is born out of the whirlwind of the particles of the darkest coffin.

The war must continue within

Till the shameless serpent gets drowned  into the stream of love!

The howling beast stands alone 

As the bastards March forward 

Towards 

The stone that hangs from muddy craters of torn earth!

Get burnt up by your own fire!

There is still too much warmth within to resist the massacre.

Priyanka Banerjee is a bilingual poet from Kolkata, India. She published her poems in various International Anthologies like Paradise on Earth, Timeless Inspirations, Bengali English poetry, Bard’s Day Keg, Echoes of the African Drums etc. She has also published her poems in various literary journals like INNSAEI, WORLD INKERS MONTHLY MAGAZINE and in various webportals of various countries.