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Ashes of the Enslaved

By Abdul Sami

Copyright 2018

Smashwords edition

Smashwords edition license notes

Thank you for investing your time in this book. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This eBook may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form.


The content of this book is not focused on a specific geographical area or an ethnic sect. Living in the cyber era allows the curious eye to be mindful of the events occurring in the distant world. The substance of the book is only the writer’s opinion with which one has the right to agree or disagree.

Table of Contents

1. Legion of Hares

2. Vitality

3. Ashes of the Enslaved

4. Artificial Animation

5. Machine

6. Windowpane

7. The Pyre

8. Special Needs

9. For the Sinners

10 Burning from Both Ends

11. Perversion

12. The Gray Landscape

13. Tranquility

14. Joyride

15. The Mistress

16. The Fall

17. Medicate

18. Personal Message

19. About The Author

Legion of Hares

Grab the tools,

Dart into the porch.

Examine the dreary creations,

With a washed out imagination.

Another uneventful day is fueled.

Stars, moon, trees, nothing of use.

My thoughts remain colorless and bruised.

Strolling in the mist,

Lacking inspiration,

A legion of hares appeared,

Hugging their shadows,

Reminding me of a childhood,

Spent in the meadows.

They give an icy stare,

And descend into the woods,

Leaving me unattended,

In the mystifying air.

I pace back to my bed,

To resume my writing affair,

For my fantasies have been refreshed,

And thoughts crystal clear.


The pristine suit,

Wandering in the fields,

Is busy in joy’s pursuit,

Seemingly immune to the unclean.

But the illusion was unconcealed,

When they executed his only daughter.

The echoing laughter,

Faded into silence and horror.

Subjugated by the depraved,

All doors of escape closed.

The dead leaves on bleached graves,

Dispossessed him of all hope.

The path to perdition has been paved,

Another society’s son is left to decompose.

The photographs are in flames,

Leaving behind a parched rose,

Far away from vitality’s hose.

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Ashes of the Enslaved

Ashen sky,

Blood filled shoes.

Desperate cries,

But the screams are of no use.

Spirits have evaporated,

Leaving behind structures obliterated.

Identical is the night and day,

For the sun was consumed,

By the Ashes of the Enslaved.

The weapons of mass decay,

Were a parting gift from the enraged.

Nothing to look forward to,

But to dwell in this ceaseless doom.

This is the cost we paid,

For the satisfaction of numbered creatures.

Violence was their teacher,

As they nurtured their vicious flavor,

Using us as the ammunition,

Cultivating the seeds of damnation.

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Artificial Animation

The mutilated creature trembles,

Losing all it gained.

Yet we refuse to show restraint.

Disrespecting the suffering,

Ignoring the muttering,

We are busy collecting the grain,

That brims with elements impure.

The sufferer has been decapitated in the strife,

Do we care about the grief he endured?

The quivering body has silenced.

A predictable outcome,

Of every act of violence.

The tormented departs,

Wishing us an odious hereafter,

And questions the conviction,

Of this artificial animation;

If freedom is this costly,

Why strive for it at all?

If a family would only be

A burning memory,

Why have one at all?

If life is bound to be stolen,

Why live one at all?


The crimson sap surges in the streets.

Unmoved by the brutality,

You embrace the calamity,

For this is another opportunity,

To stuff the fleshy creeks.

Of the dying breed.

Raze their conscience,

Incapacitate all mechanisms of defense.

Establish your residence,

The stage is set for your unforgivable offense.

Rejoice! The dehumanization is complete.

Now play with your newly acquired machine.

You have the warrant of committing acts obscene.

But will you ever realize,

Despite possessing a different style,

You too are a machine,

One that was swallowed by spite and baleful dreams.

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Lost in the skies,

Voyaging into the unknown.

A victim of their lies,

By this vile race, I have been disowned.

Immured in this dungeon,

This existence is devoid of purpose.

Skull fractured by the bludgeon,

My only function,

Is to invigorate the circus.

My pain, their pleasure.

My tears, their treasure.

The animals feast their eyes,

As they feed me my brethren,

Rotten and dried.

They quench their thirst,

By watching this heinous game.

While I breathe my last,

Staring at the windowpane.

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The Pyre

Descend from the accursed stars.

Merge with your counterparts.

Reap the benefits and tear them apart.

Amputate your contenders,

Incinerate the cadaver.

Live a life immersed in greed.

Sear the foundations of your own creed.

Smite the shepherd,

Ransack the herd.

Execute the honest,

Through trials unheard.

But do you fear the day,

When your pallid body,

Will be tossed on the pyre?

The skin will melt away,

Along with your desires.

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Special Needs

Under the crepuscular light,

I stumble through the burning darkness.

Incompetent to resist this plight,

Obsessions I failed to harness.

Inflicted by slumber’s dagger,

My spirit has been ripped.

Now only a crippled beggar,

I was refused affection on my trip.

Now, I must locate the infernal forest,

And search for the oak to set me free.

For it is time to put my mind to rest,

That has always been a slave to special needs.

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For the Sinners


Greetings my mortal.

This face you wear,

Is drenched in horror and fear.

Enter our divine portal,

We will welcome you with our spears.


Let’s dress you with blood and tears.

The foundations of serenity must be seared.

You have no choice,

But to play this rigged game,

For we are the voice,

That will drown you in uncharted depths of shame.


The victim is now alone,

Devoid of strength to mourn,

Rubbing his palms against the ground,

Fingertips bleeding, bones ailing.

His appeal for deliverance was turned down.

Left with no blood to bleed,

The crippled soul,

Baths in kerosene,

To put an end to this ghoulish dream.

The severed suit,

Ravaged by flames,

Was forced to take this route,

By these inhuman brutes.


Lifeless and charred,

By ill intent, his death was marred.

No funeral for the damned,

He was labelled a shameless man.

No remorse for the dead,

Humiliate and blame them instead.


The culprits walk free,

Watering their blood tree.

No one questions their atrocities,

As they stand united in the animosity,

Against the molested and the weak.


Isolate and exterminate,

This affliction is their ultimate fate.

Our race has grown violent and hostile.

Efforts to quell this misfortune shall remain futile.

We are the breeders of hate.

We will resist change at any rate.

Kindness and chivalry are all obsolete.

In this world, only the sinners can compete.

This wretched spawn has spelled your end.

Before the devil, our stiff necks bend.

No shame do we feel,

For immorality is our preferred meal.

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Burning from Both Ends

Rotting in this stifling well,

Torrid ground for me to dwell.

I ponder over my existence.

To death, why do I show resistance?

For wealth, why do I show insistence?

The string of life burns from both ends.

Downfall by a murderous agent,

Minuscule and unseen.

Demise in a lamentable incident,

The future can never be foreseen.

Dismal and impotent,

Are the efforts to change the tide of the sea.

Oh, I wish I were an ignorant,

For I crave the light before darkness nullifies me.

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Non-existent sympathy,

For the embracers of apathy.

Hearts submerged in hate,

For the informers of the calamitous fate.

Transfuse a never-ending sleep,

As we choose the details one can keep.

This stiff paper,

Is our appetite.

We are the traitors,

Catalyzing the apocalyptic night.

Portraying ourselves as the liberators,

The truth shall remain invisible to the human sight.

Vision is the element we subtract,

As virtue continues to decline.

Our cancer spreads in the community’s mind,

For perversion of facts,

Is the task we are assigned.

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The Gray Landscape

In a bid to stay the same,

Stagnancy has distorted my name.

My search for solace is enshrouded in disdain.

In simple words, I explain,

I am losing this battle once again.

Inside my head, forever it will rain,

As the gray landscape continues to drive me insane.

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Eyes are frozen shut,

By the cold embrace of death.

Wounds filled with muck,

Body deprived of breath.

The stiffness of posture,

Has overshadowed the grandeur.

The cascading pallor,

Clothes the lost traveler.

The head infested with worms,

Once expressed its sentiments vigilantly.

But it was inflicted with burns,

For eradication is done immediately,

If tranquility is what you yearn.

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Devote yourself to the fake,

Deny the existence of the endemic dread.

Each breath you take,

Only pulls you closer to the burning red.

A generation shackled by tyrants,

Spineless, as they wish to remain silent.

These zombies are the new wave,

With determination, they delve into their own graves.

Now devour the blood that has been served.

In the arts of deception, you are well versed.

The role of an ignorant, you have rehearsed.

So come my fanatics!

It’s time to wade into the static.

For the driver of your joyride to hell,

Is moments away from ringing the doorbell.

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The Mistress

O self-proclaimed Mistress,

In times of turmoil,

We beg for your assistance.

The serpent has uncoiled,

Endangering our existence.

Deliver us from this distress,

And we will sacrifice our lives for you,

O, sweet Mistress!

My dear infidels, harken my words!

The serpent has arrived, to raze your world.

Rejoice, for you will be wiped by my hand.

Watch my wings unfurl,

As I establish my insurgency on this land.

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The Fall

The jubilant humanoid,

Fuses with the untainted.

Pushes them into the void,

Remodels the demented.

Retribution, he always succeeds to avoid,

The transgression remains undocumented.

I will not fall for this crime.

My eyes can see through your rancid mind.

This predictable set of motions,

This repetitive set of notions,

I have witnessed it all.

You may have the ability to persecute them all,

But my existence will not be a victim of your assault.

With the blade of intellect,

I will expose the faults.

This time you will not resurrect,

For I have vowed to assist your empire to a harrowing fall.

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The waning globe,

Is wrapped in stupors robe.

Sky dressed with embers,

Ebony eclipses the golden rays.

A sight to remember,

For this has marked the Murder of Day.

On the fissured surface,

The white has reappeared,

To illuminate the path,

And shield us from the catastrophe.

Let’s shun the barbarity,

Enforced upon us by the defaced.

This suffering must end.

So repair the bends,

Cease the war in our heads,

Cultivate solace instead,

And medicate this strain,

For the Sunshine beckons us once again.

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Personal Message

Thank you for reading my eBook. Your feedback in the shape of a review will be greatly appreciated.


Abdul Sami


Cover art by Muhammad Adam Ghumman

Contact: Facebook

More by the Author

  1. Malevolent Shadows

  2. Pseudo Man

About the Author

Abdul Sami (born August 30, 1998) is a Pakistani author whose work is primarily focused on the dark side of human nature. At the same time, his love for nature has allowed him to explore new themes and develop new ideas. He cites Charles Dickens, T.S. Eliot, Ted Hughes and Walt Whitman as his major influences. Abdul Sami has a keen interest in sports, movies, and TV shows. Aside from that, he is the founder of a literary platform “Dusk”, aimed at promoting literature in the region.

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