Saturday, November 22, 2014

Racing against ... ?

The rubbers gripping
The steel grey
Asphalt,
Hands clenched at
The steering wheels,
Humming motors
Queued up
Till the horizon,
Horns blaring,
Jarring the
Tattered remnants of
Shredded peace.
And amidst this pandemonium,
Another set of claws
Slows, screeches;
The vernal biker
Intoxicated
By the power of his beast-ride,
Raring
To define his domain,
Discounting the
Decrees of road,
Crisscrosses the embrangle;
The grey labyrinth soon
Devours him.
And while
The ominous siren
Of ambulance clangors callously,
Enduring the
Congestion dutifully,
The crimson splashes dry out.
Undeterred bedlam
Accompanies
The dusk.
The subtraction
Insignificant.
Compulsory obituary
Wilts in some scrapbook.




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