There are some poems,
There are some stories,
I write with so much heart
I dump them onto the page
Hardly sorting them out
The way they came is already better than I could say.
They are beyond blood
They are little pieces of my soul,
Children of mine,
Should I let them go?
Let them free for all to see?
Something beyond words and philosophies
I feel them when I breathe
Gods, monsters, and prophecies.
Heaven and hell are within me
I see the lives in me,
And more than that I see them in you.
No matter the times the story never dies
See a myth and read it twice
It is your life
Your journey to find both hero and villain inside
I write not because it's a hobby
I write so I can breathe,
Would you like to take the journey?

Living off caffeine and anxiety
Filling the days with films, books and games just to watch the time slowly tick by.
Nothing can quite fill the attention and mind.
There is nothing to break up these endless days running one into another.
Going with the flow without going anywhere
Taking it easy with no need to relax
Plans of summer disappear with every flick of the remote
Netflix stings with the taunting of life outside
Stories are captivating, but there are only so many pages to turn.
But the albums on repeat represent the lockdown we are in, they always end eventually

With vainglorious dedication
the hoards are tasked feverishly
theirs is to conjure black clouds
and stain crystal clarity to faults
a five year old would see the futility
the dunce will laugh at the idiocies
as kid-adults lose dignity and integrity
morphing  from stale acrid cocoons
into fetid common o'garden bullies
the cheap devoid of senses et decorum

Their gods look on in petulant  glee
the goddesses smirk in Medusian imbue
the serpents gloats in victorious contagion
God restates I made them all as noble beings
darkness claims minds and souls as easy as ha!
morals to boot tis easier to court damnation
than take pride in the worthiness of beings

Thus relieved of reasoning and sanity
our hoards in discolored inglorious shame
toil all hours exhuming odious fantasies
sharing sediments of their demoralized stains
worshiping beliefs of fanging to pollute clarity
as if wholesome eyes are blind and discernment amiss
anodyne force feeding by anodynes for cretins
who assimilates the ravings of the contemptibles'
or buy into the sham displays of the malicious unfurnished
asinine devotees that believe all waters are drinkable
and reasoning and critic is shared equally in equal measures

the
     children
          in
     the
park
     are
          chasing
     stars
again
     the
          dog
     lolloping
along
     all
          tongue
     flopping
spit
     chucking
          sky
     is
a
     tapestry
          of
     blueberries
and
     giggles
          fill
     the
night
     hunting
          all
     the
teeth
     the
          fairies
     pinched
before

Dear harshi,

I miss you, girl.
The REAL you.
Your smile,
Which illuminates my whole day.
Your eyes,
Which reflect your brightness,
Your presence,
Which dims the rest of the world.

Where did you go Harshi?
Why have you compromised?
It's time to love me,
Embrace me,
My flaws,
And give me all your time.

I miss you, Harshi.
Hope you come back soon.

Love,
Harshi.

and then again I hear them say
somebody will like you,
he’s on his way

but to wait for the right guy
is a lonely journey, can’t deny

and as the days go by
I look up in the sky

I tell myself to be patient
there’s no need to be racing

I’m longing for someone
a nice guy, can’t describe
somebody who will catch my vibe

I hope he’s coming
cause I need some real good loving

meanwhile I will do another rhyme
and just have trust in time

- gio, 12.04.2020