SOULFLAME MAGAZINE

  Suicide This Razor! I can't let go. This razor took my joy, The spirit stood looking at the disgusting body, It became so dirty for my liking Even when I sort to return with tears My soul greatly fears the mortal. She lives In matrimony With my foe. Faster was I than my shadow And now my phantom wander In need of nonexistent help. And here in my hand A dagger that shies every keeper. It thirsts me to let go... But I can't tell why I can't I am aghast a day comes When the soul mender needs the soul And this razor shall be held accountable And the bearer hope of death. This rope! I never knew how symbolic it was Until my hallux hit the kid stool Then I turned pair The one who looks And the one who is looked. In the comfort of rope, I regretted, But the stool was so close that I could not lay my hands on it Then I saw the souls of those who died same way When I turned again to gaze As little as twine killed me. Why? I failed probation thrice With each causing 24 strokes. 72 ...

Night of Gamblers A gambler Is a leaky gas cylinder Its morning is when you see it full But its sunset comes 2,3,4 to 5 minutes later Based on the available resources. It comes without a night Not even a day, And its glory is in its pocket. A gambler Is a nocturnal bird. It haunts at night And sleeps in the morning If you behold it in a day Either it is searching for something Or something is searching for it All for one cause. A gambler Is a dog That is very happy when it finds a bone It doesn't look at the size of the bone Or the potency of its teeth. All it cares about is that a bone is found, So whether it breaks it or not doesn't matter, Life goes on. Not like some animals That can understand the message of bent trees. Gamblers don't remember what left a scar on them. All they believe is that business is risk Losing is a must, and gaining is the same. One without money can borrow And one who can't borrow can stake a shoe, shirt, and even a tooth. Shock? A gambler I...

  Why Sad When You Can Have It All Does it baffle you why men run mad? Simple! They tried putting their legs in animals shoe, Going where they can't tell: sheep. Having the taste of everything on the floor: birds. Developing an intense love for rubbish: Rodents. Smiling uncontrollably: Quokka. Just name them. But regaining consciousness is a different ball game Why, Simple! They enjoy being animals more than humans I could hear them say, Why sad when I can have it all! But at times the mad sees better That is why they call you a madman And you take it for irony. But come, Are you not mad? If you were not then Why do you green-spray the hair you would always Cut years ago because they were brownish? Why do you have to blade cut your trousers For what purpose the tailor lives? Imagine! You dress up take a walk And mother asks, where to? And you said you do not know Is that not taking a diploma in madness? Why tell the tailor to advertise such an Exhibit when the land is not free from...

The Soul of Music The chord Is odd. And the string, Like a spring. It flows Like a droplet in a hose.. He took hold of the drum stick, He held the very peak Like a scroll About to roll. Take hold of your violin And remember not violence. Strike you conga And shop in konga, Think of your wind instrument And get ready for merriment. He touches the string And it rang, Then I saw sleepers in the mortuary Smiling, though in sanctuary. Music has soul anyway. AUTHOR’S NOTE This poem reflects a deep fascination with the mysterious and almost supernatural power of music. It moves from simple sounds and instruments into a larger vision where music becomes a force that transcends life and death. The imagery may feel playful at first, but it gradually evolves into something more profound, suggesting that music is not merely entertainment but a living presence capable of awakening even the stillest silence. The lines carry a rhythm that mirrors the very subject of the poem, allowing the reader to f...

SACRIFICE Luxury rides are pounds of blood. Mansions, a thousand head count. The useless, and choiceless man takes the contract. He gives hope to the man who is desperate for money. He gives him an advance To claim the balance when the job is done. Genuine work builds slowly, But the darkest trades rise overnight. Speak no truth about the truth, Manipulate the figures in the book, Force sense into the stubborn ledger, Tell the accountant his share. Money will speak, And men will keep the secret. Sacrifice is pain, Giving away what is loved. He gives his wife for this same money, His parents are wagered, He wants to belong. To be first among men, To sit with the powerful, To stand among the elite, To command influence, To walk into power without question. If wife and parents are not enough, The children may be  added They must not die, But they may be broken. Let their eyes grow weak, Let their bodies lean uneven, Let unseen wounds define them. And let them smile- A laughter no one ...