Gradually,
Nature’s torrents breaks
unity’s deadlock.
There is the answer to those
Who wonder why star-crossed lovers
Could be put asunder.
Or does the Sailor
hold the raft,
Sail the ship
While also tending to the cabin guests?
So are the spirits of Selfish souls
On merry waters.
You,
Who lack the depth
Of understanding,
May plunder into this sea
Of my wise sayings --
Of the walls of the loft
Are many palms, the sweaty hands,
A frail man, a building fest
With display of sand.
The Western Cent,
And the Middle-Eastern Shekel,
Could still be spent by
A pilgrim in Israel.
But if a man hadn’t helped another
It would not have been so.
But the cradle shared of
The Cent to the Shekel,
And of star-crossed lovers,
Or the unselfish souls
Who didn’t become ocean surfers?
Is love -
One of many wonders.
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 3:38 PM UTC
It has been a couple of weeks
since the rigor of being McGregor
boiled down to nothing,
and Mayweather
had an Irma of punches
ricochet off of him.
I recollect this seemingly regular
pre-big-match rumor,
that the game was arranged.
These verdicters
pronounced a loss for Conor.
If so, Mc. man there
took way too many hits for the money.
Now that McGregor is left for dead,
and verily, Floyd
may or may not have added
a few more Lamborghinis
from the Billion bucks prize !!!
Many fortunes have changed.
I've fallen deep down
into this cemetery
where my thoughts lay dead,
and from the abyss sprout up a paradox
that stands for all fortunes:
We all fish in the same waters;
if one stirs a ripple,
driving the fishes away,
another is gifted a school without much labor.
Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 8:58 PM UTC
At two dimensions asight
a candle light shadow
is pregnant with its light.
She burns perpetually;
shakes by the wind;
waltzing upon a thread
elegantly.
Yon pedestal waxes aside
little over being lit by a stick,
Burns thence to the ground.
This, truly, is unique.
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 6:46 PM UTC
To be fair:
In all fairness,
to be fair
is not to be fair,
for being fair to others,
is totally unfair to me.
To be fair
or not to be fair?
Now that is the question.
Justice:
How do you
justify the justice of sin
If a sinner is just enough
to judge another.
No sin is equal to another,
for if it weren't so,
there would be no just judges.
Profanity; Indignity:
Rejoice,
nakedness and ******
are the joys of the world,
they are the best case scenario.
we suffer,
as indignity clenches
onto our high places.
Spare the profanity,
indignity has changed course.
The struggle:
If it were for my struggles,
I'd be scribbling poems
on bare soil.
I believe in a higher power.
some, though being in unbelief
are overpowered by disbelief.
If it were for their struggles,
We'd have more beggars
begging one another.
Carcass:
Our society is a carcass
being fed upon lightly
by the maggot of our own ignorance.
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 11:18 PM UTC
In pal group of sorts,
Young lads strolled by,
Clutching their trailing backpacks.
Up my spectacles I peeped,
The bus hadn’t arrived,
So I kept on itching me wart.
Cornered myself right,
Where I would lean,
Be fond of nature,
How lowly we see these things
Seeing lovely canaries
Taking on one another in flight.
A little o’er some minutes skipped by,
How time flies;
Som’a my sanity still in check.
A passing car:
A splashing mar on my maroon pants,
In road-rush-water style.
Cold flutters,
The unattending ave company,
Suspending the fun for a shower,
Eyescaping the sight.
Nay, not for the wonders of earth
Escaping an orator’s stutter.
Such of which tale,
Tales of showering birds,
They rowed feathers in a shower
And chattered and chirped in a pool,
This beside a bus-stop tent,
Where I looked on,' unstaled.
Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 8:43 PM UTC
Wound I
against the forces of nature
this tap
through which a steam
of nature's brewed drink,
measured hot as I desired.
It loved my skin,
steaming upwards,
its ambiental tentacles
towards my chin.
The devil besought my thoughts
to torment.
The sounds of men calling my name,
lynching my conscience undeservedly;
the scapegoat of the moment.
These gates were open;
the devil smeared in
through the tap,
flowing through brews.
I wound fast
against those that call.
Thence did they stop:
the lynching, the calling,
beseeching, praying my falling.
I fled my bathtub,
escaping the mob,
escaping the devil
in my bathtub.
Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 7:49 AM UTC