What happens when those who warn are the first to be devoured?
Full of hate,
they rushed across the land;
we cried while beasts of terror arrived.
Men erased
from the gullible minds;
women and children could pose no threat.
Shamed online,
if you raised the warning
that leaders cared not if you survived.
—H, exiled for shouting what others refused to hear
This poem follows a 3–6–9 syllabic structure – a form inspired by Nikola Tesla’s theory of energy, rhythm and repetition.
A furious gospel for a broken era, this poem lays bare a world ruled by corrupted leaders, hollow faith and the glorification of violence. It’s a hymn of disillusionment - a prayer screamed into a poisoned sky.
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Beneath polished speeches and pious robes, corruption festers—its breath thick with greed, its fingers stained by lies, its prayers dripping with perversion.
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In this Tesla-inspired 3-6-9 poem, love turns from intoxicating to imprisoning. Bruises, both emotional and physical, tell the truth hidden behind honeyed words and silken lies.
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A soul imprisoned behind unseen walls, where sunlight never reaches and mockery reigns. Yet within the cold—a spark endures, whispering, “I exist.”
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In this 3-6-9 micro-poem, a tiger becomes the metaphor for a wild, forbidden love that both captures and awakens. A brief moment of rebirth burns within the embrace of danger.
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Grown in filth without the warmth of nurture, this sorrowful bloom tells of roots strangled by deceit and veins longing for colour. A wilted soul sways in storms, aching for the tender promise of a rainbow.
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