The only way to write is to write.
To express yourself and express some more.
And to speak your mind in every form,
Until your tongue is stretched out across the floor.

And as you write, show no signs of remorse,
For the words which you’ve always adored.
Since they only exist to be used by you,
And abused by you as you write henceforth.

With a passion, gusto, pride, and fire,
You must dig for the words which you desire,
To represent your hollow shell.
To speak of the heavens and of the hells,
In which you may or may not have already dwelt.

Would you learn how to speak before you think,
Be it only to share something distinctly known to you,
Within your thoughts?
Would you shape yourself into someone who’s not,
Afraid to question more often than not?

Because to write requires a questioning mind,
Which struggles against the ebb of time,
In the hourglass tipped on its side.
Hence why we see our very lives,
like shifting sands beneath our feet,
And the grains our memories stored inside.

So would you pull a perspective from within yourself,
And pass it around, and hopes it will help.
Because the truth to me most obviously,
Is that the world will spin,
But one day we will all die wordlessly.

And my hope for you is that you will write,
For whatever is left in your own life,
And not for whatever is next in line.

Fumbling words in the night sky,
Like thunder in the broadest storm.
So you will go down in historic mind,
As not very bright.

Though the stroke of lightning might be me,
You were like thunder above the trees,
Loud, assertive and absolute,
But never available to be seen.

I'm glad such sound was not for me,
And that you passed like a summers night.
Because I have no need for rumbling voice,
Or an ominous noise devoid of light.

If the blindingly cold winters of the north, could say just one thing to her in part.
It would be that she, a southern belle, knew not of the warmth of this gentleman's heart.

Lightning in the skies
Saturated clouds above
Moisture in your eyes
And should the rain ere reprise
Would you always stay beside?

(I)

Pale mulberry was the sky,
No bird dared to fly!
Thus all seemed wrong,
But then, you came along
Suddenly like summer rain
And quelled away my pain.

(II)

Velvet blue was the sky,
No bird dared not to fly!
Thus all seemed right,
And as pure as a cloud in white,
When suddenly like the rainbow,
You quelled away thy heavenly glow.

(III)

Dark grey is the sky,
No bird seems to ever fly!
Athwart my wild blue yonder
Where I, indignantly do ponder
Night and day wondering why,
We can't give it just one more try.

(IV)

Pitch black is always the sky,
But, faster than any bird I'll fly!
Swifter than a scudding cloud
Whilst calling upon you so loud,
All the way to a strange plain,
Just to ever feast about you again.

(V)

Magenta magic will always be the sky,
When once again we'll merilly fly!
Then, flowers once again shall bloom,
To see you and me as bride and groom
By a placid Mulberry Moon on the rise,
To kindle our enchanted paradise.



©Kikodinho Alexandros
Jumeira, Dubai
1st December 2016

When I'm gone,
When my work is done,
To go meet the Almighty Lord,
At the other side of life's road.

The age to come will say:
"Unpopular he was during his day,
Though, great He was, now we see
It vividly as a star gazing about the sea.

A Poet he was with great poetry and prose,
Nighly akin to the scent of a Heaven's rose,
Thus a Genius whose rhyme
Shall perpetually transcend through time!"


©Kikodinho Alexandros**
Jumeira, Dubai
8th December 2016