Slumbering Gnome
Slumbering Gnome
Song of the last siren
Somewhere in between slumber and arousal
the twilight zone scoops a fistful of memories.
Atrophied limbs. Mottled skin. A cancerous face haunts.
Not afraid but I am anxious. Life has not yet ebbed away.
I scramble for sparks, my hands burn.
Very disquietening!
The severed bones in a heap.
They wanted to appease the goddess,
the gnomes were dancing in a circle.
The land, the country is breaking, sky is falling.
Run, run for cover.
I scream in a dream.
Are we disintegrating? Disappearing?
A black hole is calling?
The mega truth has been broken into myriad fragments,
We are now thinking in chips, holding our own mirror.
Show your mirror to your truth. Future is fogging the past.
Come hither my child of sorrow.
We are old tribe. We will keep our pledge
to maintain fidelity towards verses of sadness, evening, night,
stars and dust. The sparkles will die one day. Only the moon
will rise on the dead bodies. Where will you like to go?
Amongst the ruins, walking straight back to the treasure-trove
of ancient wisdom.
Wake up
Bells are chiming.
Satish Verma
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SONG OF THE LAST SIREN
Somewhere in between slumber and arousal
the twilight zone scoops a fistful of memories.
Atrophied limbs. Mottled skin. A cancerous face haunts.
Not afraid but I am anxious. Life has not yet ebbed away.
I scramble for sparks, my hands burn.
Very disquietening!
The severed bones in a heap.
They wanted to appease the goddess,
the gnomes were dancing in a circle.
The land, the country is breaking, sky is falling.
Run, run for cover.
I scream in a dream.
Are we disintegrating? Disappearing?
A black hole is calling?
The mega truth has been broken into myriad fragments,
We are now thinking in chips, holding our own mirror.
Show your mirror to your truth. Future is fogging the past.
Come hither my child of sorrow.
We are old tribe. We will keep our pledge
to maintain fidelity towards verses of sadness, evening, night,
stars and dust. The sparkles will die one day. Only the moon
will rise on the dead bodies. Where will you like to go?
Amongst the ruins, walking straight back to the treasure-trove
of ancient wisdom.
Wake up
Bells are chiming.
Satish Verma
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SONG OF THE LAST SIREN
Somewhere in between slumber and arousal
the twilight zone scoops a fistful of memories.
Atrophied limbs. Mottled skin. A cancerous face haunts.
Not afraid but I am anxious. Life has not yet ebbed away.
I scramble for sparks, my hands burn.
Very disquietening!
The severed bones in a heap.
They wanted to appease the goddess,
the gnomes were dancing in a circle.
The land, the country is breaking, sky is falling.
Run, run for cover.
I scream in a dream.
Are we disintegrating? Disappearing?
A black hole is calling?
The mega truth has been broken into myriad fragments,
We are now thinking in chips, holding our own mirror.
Show your mirror to your truth. Future is fogging the past.
Come hither my child of sorrow.
We are old tribe. We will keep our pledge
to maintain fidelity towards verses of sadness, evening, night,
stars and dust. The sparkles will die one day. Only the moon
will rise on the dead bodies. Where will you like to go?
Amongst the ruins, walking straight back to the treasure-trove
of ancient wisdom.
Wake up
Bells are chiming.
Satish Verma
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SONG OF THE LAST SIREN
Somewhere in between slumber and arousal
the twilight zone scoops a fistful of memories.
Atrophied limbs. Mottled skin. A cancerous face haunts.
Not afraid but I am anxious. Life has not yet ebbed away.
I scramble for sparks, my hands burn.
Very disquietening!
The severed bones in a heap.
They wanted to appease the goddess,
the gnomes were dancing in a circle.
The land, the country is breaking, sky is falling.
Run, run for cover.
I scream in a dream.
Are we disintegrating? Disappearing?
A black hole is calling?
The mega truth has been broken into myriad fragments,
We are now thinking in chips, holding our own mirror.
Show your mirror to your truth. Future is fogging the past.
Come hither my child of sorrow.
We are old tribe. We will keep our pledge
to maintain fidelity towards verses of sadness, evening, night,
stars and dust. The sparkles will die one day. Only the moon
will rise on the dead bodies. Where will you like to go?
Amongst the ruins, walking straight back to the treasure-trove
of ancient wisdom.
Wake up
Bells are chiming.
Satish Verma
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SONG OF THE LAST SIREN
Somewhere in between slumber and arousal
the twilight zone scoops a fistful of memories.
Atrophied limbs. Mottled skin. A cancerous face haunts.
Not afraid but I am anxious. Life has not yet ebbed away.
I scramble for sparks, my hands burn.
Very disquietening!
The severed bones in a heap.
They wanted to appease the goddess,
the gnomes were dancing in a circle.
The land, the country is breaking, sky is falling.
Run, run for cover.
I scream in a dream.
Are we disintegrating? Disappearing?
A black hole is calling?
The mega truth has been broken into myriad fragments,
We are now thinking in chips, holding our own mirror.
Show your mirror to your truth. Future is fogging the past.
Come hither my child of sorrow.
We are old tribe. We will keep our pledge
to maintain fidelity towards verses of sadness, evening, night,
stars and dust. The sparkles will die one day. Only the moon
will rise on the dead bodies. Where will you like to go?
Amongst the ruins, walking straight back to the treasure-trove
of ancient wisdom.
Wake up
Bells are chiming.
Satish Verma
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
About the Author
Satish Verma is ferociously original. You feel resentment, outrage and violence, cannot pin it down but wonderfully spin your brain. Satish has the greatest sensibility which sweetly exploits the delicacies of human conflicts. His scions, doctors and engineers are living in USA. He chose to live back in his beloved country and resides in Ajmer (INDIA) with his spouse Kanta running the Charitable Holistic Institute of SEWA MANDIR FOUNDATION.
Slumbering Gnome
sledding off house epic adventure a boy with a dream to slumber in his pants matt sorensen
|
|
The Gnome $7.43 The Gnome |
|
|
Slumbering Girl $39.99 Pietro Antonio Rotari Slumbering Girl - Giclee Print |
|
|
Awakening The Slumbering Spirit $11.19 Awakening The Slumbering Spirit |
|
|
Gnome $12.99 Gnome - Blacklight Poster |
|
|
Cruel Beats Gently Slumbering $11.33 To say that President Fetch is an institution in Danish punkrock is a gross understatement! This year, the Copenhagen boys celebrate their 20th anniversary with their 3rd album, "Cruel Beats...Gently Slumbering", their first in 14 years. And they've nev |
|
|
Cruel Beats...Gently Slumbering $9.13 To say that President Fetch is an institution in Danish punkrock is a gross understatement! This year, the Copenhagen boys celebrate their 20th anniversary with their 3rd album, "Cruel Beats...Gently Slumbering", their first in 14 years. And they've nev |
|
|
Gnome Groove $15.83 Gnome Groove |
|
|
The Gnome Lexicon $20.16 The Gnome Lexicon |
|
|
Gnome Fishing $6.99 Gnome Fishing - Poster |
|
|
MR. GNOME: MR. GNOME ECHOES ON THE GROUN $9.53 MR. GNOME: MR. GNOME ECHOES ON THE GROUN |
|
|
The Ring: Sunny Slumbering Spruce Hill Under Bronze Sky $39.99 Copper Tone Sorsdahl Phase The Ring: Sunny Slumbering Spruce Hill Under Bronze Sky - Giclee Print |
|
|
MR GNOME: MADNESS IN MINIATURE $21.51 MR GNOME: MADNESS IN MINIATURE |
|
|
MR. GNOME: DELIVER THIS CREATURE $8.24 MR. GNOME: DELIVER THIS CREATURE |
Slumbering Gnome