Those days when I can't write,
I sit around and dive into the ocean
of thoughts that are held back
somewhere in my mind.

Those days when I can't write,
I sit around with a pen in my hand
and scribble random words down
hoping for them to make any sense.

Those days when I can't write,
I sit around and feel depressed
as I try to find a break through
from all the boredom and dullness.

Those days when I can't write
I sit around and type this poem
that was supposed to be another waste
instead of something that actually rhymes.

Thousands of doors are going
To open Today
After a Long Day
Of Sultry Dark
Slowly moving Clouds
But what it is!
As if the speed of the wind more than
A Hurricane

Extreme sound Rocking the Sky,
The Home
And the Expanding
Barren Field,  
Repeatedly being Thunder Around
As far as I can See
Across the Horizon
The Rain has come down
As Cats and Dogs
 
Dim Light in the Room
Hope, despair shaken
Windows Open
Southern waves
Randomize the Poetry Books
Flying Pages,
Never before or after in the

The Scent of the Poetry
In the Air
Sky-word Sentences
I have seen my Reflection
In the Light of the Short
The past Knocking
On the Closed Door
To open the Wide Sky

You have sat down
In the Horizon
That has reminded
The First Love Poem
Where I read
And planted my Dreams
Bringing the garden
Roses,
Marigold,
Sunflowers

Where there the moonlit
Of moonlight has
Crafted the Dreams  
Like an Imagination
As if,
Unclogging Peacock's Feather

But the sudden wind  
Increasing the Velocity
Light has been Extinguished
Yet the Flame Alive
But don't see my Reflection,
In the distant Glass,
In the Poetry,
In the Words

In an Angular way,
Through the Windows
Rain coming into the Limelight
Put away the Poetry
And the Dreams
As the Books of Poetry has Seemed
Like the Stones

But Yet I'm waiting,
For The Next morning
Where the Hope will Come Again
In the Shining Smile of Light

To write food in the stomach
Of every hungry child.

To spell war as peace,
Metaphorize flowers into the barrel

Of every gun on Earth.
The poet has responsibilities

Beyond those of mothers,
Of kings and presidents.

I refuse to give up hope;  
This could be a poem world.

Come on, write your worst piece
Of literature.

Even misprints may give other
Meanings to a word,

Write me a green sky, blue dirt,
Trees the colour of air.

Sometimes the best poets
Have the least to say,

So keep writing, write until your
Fingers fall asleep.

Write until you havent slept
For weeks in search of that word,

That one right word,
Then rest on a notebook pillow

And dream the world right.
Write the world right.

There is no such thing as
Wasted poetry.

They follow me around
They cling to my very soul
The darkness they are made of...
I don't have any control
I can turn the lights off
I can watch them disappear
But when the light turns on
They are always right here...

The friend zone is a painful place to stay
A place you will be trapped in for longer than a day
You will feel the hopelessness of being just a friend
The never ending feeling of having to pretend

You never know which day you'll finally be free
So I'll share a little secret between you and me
The friend zone is a jail cell, so stop wasting your time
It's almost like manslaughter, if wanting someone were a crime

You've got what it takes to finally leave
But you think they like you, is that what you believe?
The friend zone is higher than Mt.Everest and harder to climb
You're wasting so much effort, money and probably time

Turn your back on people who have so many to choose
Just take your pride and walk away, you've got nothing to lose
If they put you in the friend zone, it's almost never reversed
So don't be someone's second choice, if they are your first.