Important roles to play, we all do have,
but fools **** the day, you don't know the half.
In entirety we've lost, our will to live,
but fools sap your kindness, till you've not to give.

You can't change the channel or buy a book,
when you're face to face with this kind of crook.
You still have your sight, but can't seem to look,
at the mess they've made, the arrogance took.

Hiding in the skins of gods, these fools wait,
To prey upon innocence, odds are great.
There's no amount of stupid that will sate,
these sober morons, and their world-wide plate.

When the sour rains come, you'll remember the shelter in my heart
yet when the hot sun shines, you'll recall the shed in my soul
When the road is endless, you'll remember your miles I walked
in the silent night, you'll miss the moments we talked
When the creepy rhythm of the night starts to scare
You'll recall the moments I was right there
and when the brightly burning moon and the stars light the cold night
You'll crave a walk through the illumination but fright
Won't let you risk venturing into the enchanting warm rays
You'll miss our romantic walks during the good old days.
When the storms come with their fatal thunderbolts
You'll make for the safety under your adrenaline vaults
You'll wish I was by your chilly desolate bedside
presenting my masculine chest for your innocence to hide
You'll miss the magical touch of my wet lips
Whilst your heartbreaks and blood red emotion drips
When flowers in your tended gardens bloom they'll but fruit gloom
For their sweet scent will reconstruct my presence in the empty room
When my favourite classics and RnBs play on the radio
You'll remember dancing to some of them during our cardio
And when the telenovela we watched together
Comes on you'll wish you'd never said never
you'll want me to come home, you'll miss my golden smile,
look through the pane in pain hoping I'll appear along the isle
our memories will be the gravity pulling you to remorse
tears'll spring from costly decisions you'll want to reverse
you'll throw pillows and gnaw your teeth while missing us
when all you're throwing away will return like an ancestral curse
You'll try to find us in liquor but we won't be under those bottles
no amount of ***** will manage to drown the pain within
you'll let so many other lads into your knickers but that too won't pay
sleep under showers, even that won't wash the mire of where you've been
and then you'll dial my number and I'll anxiously pick up
only to listen to silence on the other end for you'll lack what to say
I'll try to get the words out of you but sobbing you'll hung up
And being the one for you, the one destiny charmed like a hub
I'll run out the door and jump into a nearby cab
to come and welcome the prodigal back to my heart
for I know there's no life when we're even just a second apart
in about an hour I'll be by your door, a happy soul under teary eyes
knocking with a big box full of pardon before you apologise
that's how much I love you... even if you doubt I deserve you
and when the time comes, you'll realise my passion is true

The sound of heaven I heard
She was crying without any word
To you, normal it may seem
But it was her shriek, her scream
I heard her terrifying thunder
That was full of saddened wonder

Those dark clouds were flying
As the heaven was crying
I felt her tears fall
Touching me deep inside my soul
It was the storm of the rain
Filled with endless, eternal pain

In my heart I could feel
She was sad, she wanted to heal
Those tears of her took her sadness
Falling down with never ending madness
The pearls of the drops fell down
Crushing into our sinful town

When heaven had looked down, she broke
Saw so much hatred, her heart choke
On our behalf, she started to mourn
Maybe that's how rain and thunder are born
It only rains as hope to wash away our sin
It only thunders to calm the heavens from within

What makes a poet ?
That was my thought
I mulled it over and
Came up with these oughts :

Late nights with
coffee , tea or beer
Perhaps harder stuff
Whiskey , smoke or gin clear

And the struggles and pain
as the birth is exclaimed
Blood , sweat and tears
Falling as hard as ice on rain

Confessionals made
As black on white page
Love , death , fears
Even extreme rage

One who struggles
with the a's and the's
Should one even use
The apostrophe

One who's words
Gel by the witching hour
Words full of promise  
Warnings so dour

But perhaps greatest of all
Before even the start
One must have
a true poet's heart

I saw her softly combing her chestnut hair
Each motion like parting smooth ocean waves.
I had to know her and how she behaves.
Yet my heart filled with terrible despair.

My friends told me to turn back,
but I braved the restless sea.
I seem to have a knack,
For finding any key.

I found her reading my favorite book.
She was delighted to know I knew it.
Nothing was more obscure than our love,
for a writer more obscure than his peers.

I dreamed of her every night
her passions warm
our victory right;
in either
dorm.

Every meeting with her I carried
my fantasies: a shell eclipsing the
very truth I failed to see, or so they
said of my nights' shameful proclivities.

We shared our hearts like pastries,
devouring one another's
thoughts until we
knew the taste
by rote.

Of course, we were so engorged upon the
fictions of our authored lives that something
had to be real; had to be tangible
beyond mere spooling tales wagging to tune.

Ignited like a forest fire was the lust coursing through us and
in gleaming moonlit fits of ravenous lips and tender bits
our bodies danced in only so many ways two
chiming instruments can rattle the soul
knocking and injecting essences
to quench the flame that
can never ever be
quenched...

Oh, Lord!

I lay there breathing wishing to die in
the moment I knew I loved her that I
may immortalize the knowledge thusly
ending potential doubt and teeming lies.

A month later, we were still burning and
alive and burning alive but we don't
threaten our haven, we just consider
ourselves lost in a wonderland of ***.

Then a man, a few years my senior came,
and he wanted words, he felt entitled.
He felt entitled to her, her mind, her
body, her genius, her love and her ***.

A month later, at a bar back at home,
I saw it all too clear and regretted
ever knowing her, ever loving her
every succumbing to the ***: that drug.

She's somewhere now, loving him, because he was entitled;
his name was on her history, in her language, on her
books, in her mind, on her, in her, every time
I thought it was just me, he was there
dancing with her, holding her
my hand was a ghost
all along.

My darling portends the end of an era,
but my life began with her and that soft kiss.
My darling portends a life of searching for,
cure to a heartbreak that mends with further pain.