BEETHOVEN DREAMS 

                                                                                                           

To my darlings who can’t chain their hopes and to my demons who won’t think it through.

The Gauntlet

Cry, the slaves of my distorted paradise,

Running the gauntlets, reveling the sugar-coated lies.

Wearing a smile, intending to free fall,

Their sins fuel my passion, their ghosts sell my soul.

Laugh, the masters of my utopian badlands

Until your kingdoms come crashing to quicksand.

Dancing around the inferno, cremating the verity,

Your religion is my enemy, your slaves enjoy infidelity.

The Tragedian

I hold my heart at proscenium

To perform the chronicles of the tragedian.

As a memento for the truths who lost their lives,

In my faux Elysium, a Pandemonium will rise.

Now that I’ve swallowed the goblet of embers,

My voice’ numb, my heart’ December.

In this straight line path, a fugitive hides

His sacred ghost, his refuge wild.

Beethoven Dreams

Smiling little holy ghost, Jubilant?

Oh! your fragile jovial bubble, In shambles?

They said you fed poison to your muse once

And light your closet with all the bridges you burned.

While you parade the street in a make-believe cape,

Carpe Diem! Carpe Diem! Did you seize the day?

Oh! Queen of the Wonderland, Oh! King of the Spades,

Your Beethoven’s so queer, his dreams so daze.

Siddharth Dubey