I was traveling in a bus which struck in and backed,
Filled inside there was a sack,
Kept in the bottom of the rack,
With some magical pixels which seemed much better than the apple book mac,
Behind it there was a map,
Leading though a new way and sounded like wrap…
Though there might be some gap,
Or turn my brains cap,
The possibilities were filled in a zip that sound of zap…
But finally, I touched the destination and gave it a happiness with a clap,
Gave a humble pat,
Like a squeak of a rat,
And meows like a cat,
With adventures and difficulties all wound in that mat,
And that’s how you fulfill your dreams if you think about that!
                                                             Vishvi. aurora

My skeleton is just a bone dry cage
That's trapping all of this expanding universe that is me,
Bursting at the seams.

I wonder if some kind of big bang or supernova destruction could unleash the power that I feel burning in my soul.

What meteors do I have to smash to create something as amazing and awe inspiring as shooting stars?

Do all artists suffer this way?

I just want to explode and create my own entire galaxy
And leave a mark so admirable you can't ignore my beautiful choas.  

Whether I am a star or a volcano or a geyser I will find a way to let it out and I'm going to be as inexcusable as a natural disaster.

It only
takes the tiniest thing to
create a big difference.
An extra spoon of sugar
can make or break a cake.
A minute or two
to catch or miss a train.
A second or two
to turn a glance into a glare.
A centimeter up or down
a smile or a frown.
A word spoken or not
a question mark or a dot.
A thank you
a *******
a shrug
a hug
a coin in a collection cup
a 'how are you, honestly, what's up?'

i was a little girl
you where a grown man
i had no say
you acted upon your own sin
you took my flower
i was too young to know
at the time you had the power
to that i say no more
you are a filthy demon of the night
i am a ****** by heart and its my own right
you rot in your own filth
forever a beast you will be
i have many choices of who i want to be
a writer, a painter, psychologist, or musician
i have a life that is worth living
you may have taken my flower but my words still remain
you thought you had the power
but you're only insane

Who knows
the depth of my talent

If I not?

I not
Is the worst defeat of my life....

nobody doesn't want to get involved in a messy poem
               but both of us we'll be there for sure
when everyone know of our separation

Beer in a Bucket

The well is almost dry he could hear the bucket scraping
at the bottom and the bucket was only half full when
he brought it up, global warming was true, but he was
not sure whether it was caused by man or by a natural
The shift in the weather pattern, having read the once there
were palm trees in Greenland?
Once the well was full of cold, clear water and he used
to lower a bucket full of bottled beer down it and when
he hoisted it up the beer was cold; of course, he could
put the beer in the fridge, but it didn't have the sangfroid,
about it as everybody had a fridge.
He looked at his watch they were going out to eat she
said, not that he wanted to go out, people went on his
nerves, the good thing was the served cold beer, almost
as cold as the beer in the well.

I see the darkness of my space,
I feel the depth of mind.

I think on time and how to trace
the future for my kind.

I live the past and days disorder
talking to your ghost.

Then I drift beyond the border
with my dreamy host.

Thinking on the beauty of the gift
that was bestowed.

Tripping through the rift
with humans thinking something's owed.

I dwell on past and futures sold
and how to face the day.

I feel the rhythm getting old
when midnight turns to gray.

I hear the silence constant chatter
rattle in my brain.

And how our souls might vaguely matter on a different plane.

I daze in darkness of your dawn,
I taste your mystery.

I can not slow the ride I'm on
to seize my destiny.

I hear the planet passing by
as colors dance in view.

I think on death of you and I
and people that I knew.

I lay in bed awake at night
and race through memory.

I think on breath beyond our sight
and my humanity.