George Onsy writes and paints

FROM DEATH TO HIS WORST ENEMY - 1

I am “DEATH”,

Or so they call me
And so they fear me.
They celebrate 
My unwanted coming,
Dressed in black
With mourning
Reaching the clouds. 

 My kingdom of graveyards
Is about to cover the face
Of their wounded planet.
Whether I’m the very END
Of all mortals
Or another ‘solution’,
Here’s the rub
That those pyramid builders
And their damned grandson,
That crazy poet-painter,
Dared to challenge, 
Shaking my inborn terror
Mocking my inherited majesty

And I humbly reply ...
Sir ‘DEATH’,
Or so they call you,

The voice of life
Is shouting so loud
Out of my very being
To tell me,
With every breath,
With each heartbeat,
That something of us
Will continue to live,
Will never cease
To love and give.
So, if I doubt
Your very existence
Please forgive!

The Aged Embryo 

FROM DEATH TO HIS WORST ENEMY - 2

My name is DEATH,
So they used to call me
And so do they fear me.
How dare you, tiny poet 
Of Pyramids’ Land
To pierce with doubt
My very existence?
Where then would go
The sword’s might,
The terrorism's arm
If men see my black
Turning into white

Dear DEATH Sir,
I humbly reply:
It was since I saw
LOVE resurrecting
Out of your
Dark chilly kingdom
That I’ve been living
Safe and certain
In the warm light
Of Eternity’s wisdom.