She is blue ,
The brilliant type of blue
So that she glitters e ’en in the
gloom .
So sweet is the song that she hums
She is the blue bird on the purple
post

She is pretty and she knows
Purr , purr she goes
As though she wants to fly
Preen and preen oil to her feathers
she apply
She is the blue bird on the tall
purple post

She leads a life so modest
As though ignorant she is the
prettiest
She lives to the dictates of nature
So that humans love and envy her
culture
She is the blue bird on the purple
post

Remain hither so I can watch
No go thither to our thatch
And I will watch and forget to go to
sleep
But away you fly and into the
clouds you sweep
She is the pretty blue bird on the
tall purple post .

Tornado of thoughts
Whirling with this troubled clouds.
How did we get here?
The answer? Who cares?
The trampled remember the past
The trampler, in the present bask.

Humanity, the trending fraud.
Ages ago, who would've thought
Man is reduced to fear
Death lurks everywhere
Though that is the least of them all
Other accompanying devils deal their far worst blows.

Is it still a man's (human's) world?
My boomeranging thought.
If it still is
Justify this.
How come there are more guns
Than there are humans?
More killings than births?
More wars than peace-advancement seminars?

If truth has only one perspection
By now, we should be standing on the same vantage point

The world ie now no more than a chess board
We are; the chess pawns;
Bishops and knights;
With queens and kings,
At the summit of this prism

Is this what humanity was designed to become?
I bet, we are just a compromised generation.

i put you through hell,
yet you still love me...
i opened my heart,
and he chose to leave me...
what is the choice?
what is the comparison?

I choose you.

the one who hasn't left,
despite my many flaws,

people always leave,
but then there's you,
waiting,
like the inevitable twilight left over from a sunset,
or a rainbow after a storm,
not summer or winter,
or a new spring day,
you are fall,
my fall.
a brisk season of comfort.
the vibrant change,
from a neon summer,
that seems endless,
with no change,
the muggy presence hangs in the air,
until fall come to refresh it,
a cool breeze to cool the heat,
to change the leaves,
to change *me

There in the mirror,
My jaw dropped from the terror
Of what I ' ve become

I am guilty of all you've been told
I admit to being cold,
Mean, inconsiderate and selfish
Not minding this beauty without blemish

Have I used you? yes, guilty
And I will do it again as need be
Forgive me for the wrong I have committed
Though a wrong carefully coined and crafted

I have used you in so many ways
May be those even wrong,
Dear poetry, you must endure the pain
Because whenever I get the chance, I will use you again.

Dusty. Cluttered. Used. Abused. Recycled. Reused. But open.

These are the corners of my mind.