he stood there…alone…tired
his breath heavy, his shoulders burning
the sword lay flat on the ground…the crimson ground
he looked around…for the first time in days
he looked around…when all was over
has saw faces
innocent, precarious, troublesome, bloody faces
he knew those people…or so he had thought
he had walked with them
taught them how to hold the sword
how to kill a man and how to survive
he had learnt from them….
he had lived their dreams
their aspirations
their pain
their agony
their newborns and their deaths
their fear and their jokes
he knew those people…or so he had thought
they were all over…
moaning, crying, writhing with pain…
the pain he had given…the pain they had deserved
the pain that sounded so good….when he had fought them…on this ground…the now crimson ground
he knew their kids…their wives...their homes
their generals were his best friends…or so he had thought
he knew these people….or probably not
they were evil…yes evil and sinister
they were here…they had the sword
they drew the first blood…
to make him repent for what he did
to make him say sorry for loving them…
here he was…surrounded
by them that he loved
by them he would die for
by them who he thought would die…for him
he knew these people…or so he had thought
now it was all over….they deserved what they got…
all was gone
the pain, the agony…all over
the screams turned into moans
and the moans died down….fading into the tequila sun…
he looked away…couldn’t see it anymore
he had given them pain…he liked the feeling…hated his own being
the people he used to call friends…he had killed them himself
he had made sure…that no one returns…
not afraid…worried that he might have to hurt them again
took the step forward and felt them all die….
he walked on the slush
of sweat, blood and gore…of his own men…his lieutenants, his sepoys…his men
there were tears…he could not believe it…in his eyes
his heart was full of pain
the pain of his own…the pain he had given them
he wanted to end it all
he wanted to go back…
he wanted to hold them all..to make them rest in his lap
to protect them from the hyenas…from the people…
from the world…
he never stopped
he heard someone call his name….but he never stopped
he could not…he would not
before he killed them all….he had killed someone else
he had killed himself
he had killed his sympathy
decapitated his love
gored his passion and mauled his care….he was a zombie now…
he did not go back
not again…not another Julius
not another pang of trust, of faith…he was dead now…a zombie…
no more…not again….no et tu Brute…not for him
he walked tall and proud
blood and sweat…he walked…tired yes….but a victor
no one will know the general now…he had killed him
he will walk now…with pride….with stealth…with just himself
The Zombie Soldier….will walk now
Abhijeet Basu
5th December 2006
his breath heavy, his shoulders burning
the sword lay flat on the ground…the crimson ground
he looked around…for the first time in days
he looked around…when all was over
has saw faces
innocent, precarious, troublesome, bloody faces
he knew those people…or so he had thought
he had walked with them
taught them how to hold the sword
how to kill a man and how to survive
he had learnt from them….
he had lived their dreams
their aspirations
their pain
their agony
their newborns and their deaths
their fear and their jokes
he knew those people…or so he had thought
they were all over…
moaning, crying, writhing with pain…
the pain he had given…the pain they had deserved
the pain that sounded so good….when he had fought them…on this ground…the now crimson ground
he knew their kids…their wives...their homes
their generals were his best friends…or so he had thought
he knew these people….or probably not
they were evil…yes evil and sinister
they were here…they had the sword
they drew the first blood…
to make him repent for what he did
to make him say sorry for loving them…
here he was…surrounded
by them that he loved
by them he would die for
by them who he thought would die…for him
he knew these people…or so he had thought
now it was all over….they deserved what they got…
all was gone
the pain, the agony…all over
the screams turned into moans
and the moans died down….fading into the tequila sun…
he looked away…couldn’t see it anymore
he had given them pain…he liked the feeling…hated his own being
the people he used to call friends…he had killed them himself
he had made sure…that no one returns…
not afraid…worried that he might have to hurt them again
took the step forward and felt them all die….
he walked on the slush
of sweat, blood and gore…of his own men…his lieutenants, his sepoys…his men
there were tears…he could not believe it…in his eyes
his heart was full of pain
the pain of his own…the pain he had given them
he wanted to end it all
he wanted to go back…
he wanted to hold them all..to make them rest in his lap
to protect them from the hyenas…from the people…
from the world…
he never stopped
he heard someone call his name….but he never stopped
he could not…he would not
before he killed them all….he had killed someone else
he had killed himself
he had killed his sympathy
decapitated his love
gored his passion and mauled his care….he was a zombie now…
he did not go back
not again…not another Julius
not another pang of trust, of faith…he was dead now…a zombie…
no more…not again….no et tu Brute…not for him
he walked tall and proud
blood and sweat…he walked…tired yes….but a victor
no one will know the general now…he had killed him
he will walk now…with pride….with stealth…with just himself
The Zombie Soldier….will walk now
Abhijeet Basu
5th December 2006
3 comments:
There has been an adhoc rule that a depressive feeling of guilt arises in a man's life only after when he has done. It is not that he/she doesn't know when doing those abominable acts however, to save himself he does those compromises. Only if these compromises are not done he wouldn't be a zombie. Instead, he would be a man with his head held high....
My view is don't reach for the DAddy Act if you cannot take in the crooked world
THe objective of this comment is to instigate those furious being inside you who is turning into a sheep by occupying himself to these thoughts. Unleash this deadly savage, and create a world for all those who are still being fodder for the reasons of your already dead friends . Hai Dum?
A zombie acts and works just for himself. The Zombie does not have guilt or love or anyting else. He's already dead. Already deadly. And the zombie will walk now...Thanks for something to ponder on Vaibhav :)
As of steps in life... you have crossed the milestones that I am yet to see. Now from your reply what I hear is somehting like:
"JIS RAAH PE CHALTE HUE TUM HAAF RAHE HO,
US RAAH PE SALOAN HUM DAUD CHUKE HAIN"
And I am at a stage where I would say:
"FALAK KE TEER KA BHI AJAB NISHANA THA,
YAHA MERE ARMAAN, UDHAR ZAMAANA THA,
PAHUCH RAHI THI KASHTI KINARE PAR,
KAMBAKHT TOOFAN KO BHI USI WAQT AANA THA"...
"After a long time Started working for myself"
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