I tried to depend on you
Feel more than I could
Now all I have left
Is what I used to be

Drained of color
Void of life
Emptied of water and sun
A flower cannot grow freely

Love isn't the answer
To every question
But I still love her

This is the start
I might be thinking about you
Soon, I'll feel lost

Is this love true
Or do I just forget
About what I've been through?

Is this love real?
I have so many questions
Just ask me why.

Can you be the fire to my wood?
I'd love to take you out for a cup of tea
But, you seem like a woman meant for caramel coffee
Maybe, you aren't just meant for me

Hence, we weren't a pair to be
You had to make it three

Do you drive past her place
At night
In that isolated town
Where the streetlights don't light up
Do you walk past her window
Whilst staring at your shadow
Wondering how things ever got so out of hand
Do you cycle with your friends past her fences
Wondering why she never comes out anymore
Getting tired of the suspense?
As your friends keep asking
Whether she sneaks out
Because she is grounded
Or she doesn't want to be seen by you
And they chuckle
At the thought of this
Confounded

She's a small town girl
Give her some time and she'll get around
After all she is vulnerable in your arms
Just like all the other girls

Let me introduce you to quick ***
You don’t need titillating material
To get over your ex
Let me introduce you to books
To help girls to get over your frightful looks

This infamous art form is said
To have improved people in bed
But if you want the healthy way to let off steam
And not let your testicles do harm to your flying piece of lead
Or ******* ahead
We two will have to work as a tight team for the time ahead
So that you remain clean till you’re twelve
To the time you are blissfully dead

The tree that once offered shade
Its leaves freefall my way
The winter hasn't changed itself

How can they be so free in their sway?
And my flowers linger for the canopy
Nature is mysterious in her ways

The summer's warmth is awaited patiently
Yet so is the winter cool
No leaves for cover nor forests for shelter

I have spent battling the winter blues
And the ceaseless storms
Then why must I wait for the truth

Just because I love you
Should I wait for fate to open its arms
So, you can too

For all the right reasons
I wait for you
With each season

We swirl like the dragons
Free from dungeons and darkness
In eternal salvation like salamanders
Although we aren't lizards hanging from trees
Hung up on life and disease
Breathing the air of autumn leaves
Dancing with the breeze, and ceasing to exist
Sending you our energies in the form of soft lullabies
If you can add to the good, you can keep away the evil
You can bring peace to yourself, and others in desperate need of quiet
You can be free from the peace of mind
Understand freedom in a nutshell, hanging like frescoed paintings
On top of a shelf of porridge and crimson red cherries, pears tresses
The parchment of each other, writing well within the textual framework of partridges in a pear tree
We can pray together, or remain silent forever
In vow of silence, and make lonesome Lumos shine bright like the kites running after in eros
Of the atmosphere, silenced forever, we sing lullabies for the ones to hear in their peace
A man with a peace of mind can understand silence and hold his tongue in the palm of murmurs
The sound swirls through the dungeon-like darkness, hunger for a touch of soil in the cold icy winters
We moon over these things, and it dawned on me that silence can last forever
And it isn't always good or bad
Sometimes it is evil to press and good to release yourself
Expand your mind, and be shapeless like water crashing against troughs flowing streams of fruit
Rivers could ripen, feel the song yonder deepen your soul
We wash these tears, from the eyes of agreeable people and disagreements come to me in a dream
These dreams are made of arguments and debates, I reason with myself unable to ever wake up in the morning
Howl from the depths of hell, and arrive on thin lands watching us with thin eyes like mirrors on cars, add what is specifically your own
Arrive in heaven, better to reign in hell
I'm lost in paradise on this ruin of thy moon and stars
Looking away from the fingers pointing at me like apples and bumps
Words are for the lugging carriage, to carry out their travels in their worlds from battered broken places
Wry comments from the crowd, and some cages of parakeets singing in kisses
Snakes in the grains of rice, stopping us from hissing from our caregivers and calling them unforgiving
Without food, I do not think I could live on
Without a mirror, I do not think I could live ignorantly with this hubris
Ran from the house at the age, I don't think I could live in such a cold climate
Raising my glass to my birthday invitees, they look at me blowing the birthday candles out, I'm in the seventh circle of Hell
Knells and bell tolls, ceramic steel galoshes, bitumen, and hydrophobic gum puts these dharma bums chewing grass together in apple streets full of cosmic debris
That look young and pretty, and pestering me with a limerick for some hypnosis and mirages in this solipsism
Aging like a dragon that used to burn out the flame of Hell, saving the morning again and again

If you're so cosmic, why don't you explain life to us from the Beezlebub spell, little dragon

As the dry wind sweeps my hair
The capricious prediction of bystander anticipates heavy rain
The life I had once is now a suitcase
That will stay with me for the next journey, maybe

With their pups and kittens
In boring cardboard boxes
An orphanage
Runs in the deserts
Amnesty
Creates hopes through
Providing food
To well-watered flowers
Children just keep blooming
Beautifully

The flowers, the bush, the bees
The trees
God's melody

Search your soul, linger till you grow
Old in fields of gold, rain comes so does the hope
Hostile buildings flying around the head, like buzzing bees
Criminalizing every last convict
Coining every last name in the prison register
Treason and trainwrecks have conviction in common
Break the tough chains, with tough breaks
Tinkering like thirty-years
Breeding and birth is a part of the fleeting memory, of high and dry
Try and you can quench the thirst of a couple of people at the end of the road and the rotation of crowds
Brimming with satisfaction, I can't find the child that's always dissatisfied
A bridge on time of carnage would be better than burning the commodores
****** mysteries and bebop, tell you can light your own enigma
Lady luck is fickle, she got razor-sharp claws and got 'em all
Too bad she tears up the fateful roads that are meant to cross-point like the stars on Moonlight drive
Fear in the darkness and in the loathing of Las Vegas
Leers and glances of the beatnik and bookish boys, gracing every with their masculine advances
Being bums and being contended
Pardon me, c'est la vie, cinema mon amour
The shards of saviors slashing samurai swords and serried sands
Lands, composed the Magna Carta of the time and sending off
The harakiri killed the suicide solution, the feudal times with Japan in the cherry blossom
Trees falling transient photos, stills on the artist within, touch the sword
Can't get the arrows and bows, quip, fly the mistakes by the taste of killing stakes
Bleeding soldiers, in the thousand men in gracious faceless
Read-write the scrolls that stand the test, emptiness is just a reflection of the blind
Eye to eye, blinking can't avert an artist's eyes
This is the hummingbird that hides, the cusp of time and cutting vernacular
The chirping and belonging of the terse stories of the counts and countesses of the summer loathing
Heralding the sun, and it's God in the sands of time and talk of tides
Working like the winds and winding solar clocks, and lunar dials
Tellin' and reelin' in the direction of the red skies, see where they make their mirages

To see us in time
And space
There is some kindness in the stars
I just count my blessings

We are naked when born
Choosing our place among forlorn ancestors
After death, a structured life denotes our span
Our modern thinking will not save the hunger pangs
For the meals are crisp, delightful as religious rites are

Born are we to serve our fathers
Who give everything to their fathers
Living a life of servitude
Never striding next to kings
What of the princes knowing no solicitude

We are only mere classmates
In a college of wisdom
Wizened by the plight of our teachers
To lead a nation or cure cancer
We are naked to ourselves, as we are simply accident-prone

If we linger on in this blue planet
Life most come to a tragic end
Where the followers of the chapel proceedings
Get the most out of this age-old tradition
Often divorcing logic from religion

It is often said
That living is the rarest thing
Some people merely exist
I can promise myself this
That the rivers will flow
And the trees will bring wood
Fish don't have feelings
But, innocence fades
That is what clears my conscience
The iota of ephemeral contrast
I can sustain a worthy purpose
Which may have a fleeting foundation
One of immense virtue
That a plebeian approach cannot understand
If I take the crooked path
I can walk among my peers
Who have been waiting
For me
To live free as well
But stand strong I must
As I gaze into an abyss
Without purpose
Undoubtedly determined
I can do something, methinks
Instead of doubting my own perception
Yet, I cannot predict
When the diurnal birds will go in abmigration
I simply forget
Some skip south much of autumn
I cannot remember
When will the solitary tree lie bare
The weather behaves like an intelligent child
No one knows where the wind goes
If you ask why, you question your wisdom
Only you and yourself
Can find the purpose
For the phenomena within
That tells you to move on forward
Contrary to popular wisdom
Until the final beat of an unseen presence
Ushers you into its arms
And like an abyss staring back at you
Tells you there is no rainbow down there
To confirm your fears
Or affirm your immense virtue
Your glory fades
When death holds you closer

...The universe breathes in the dark

Once you move on, this song will be yours
The memories I left behind will falter
Tomorrow will offer the same promise
To people deserving a love like yours

With each ephemeral second, you drift further
But, the right guy always appears closer
I wish you could see the wound inside me
But, I'm glad I could set you free

I see that the gems that are hardest to find
Are worth the journey after a while
I hope you find these words I left behind
I hope you get the guy, you always liked

Rushing with the piece
Resting with the ease, of the meals
Hunger of the daydreams, and elation
Rush of blood to the body
Rushing into ravines into the edifice
Friable spice and the ravines, protean about my description
Repetition of the surreptitious, debate preaching
Pecunious, fidelity and high on life lying on my own
Each to his, one for his own, stress about the abortive
Imitative, about love being his stressful, hurtful for her
Free, and then shielding myself about it, hurting her
With defenses, maybe, going to cry broken fears through the ticking time

The years have gone by
That can keep you alive
As much as memories
Dying in the times
Of a forgotten friend
An enemy now
I can keep for life

Love can bring
People together
As well make them respect
Their differences

The sun waits over the hills
To liven the lilies and daffodils
As I am caught in its embrace
You have left this place

The grass plays
Sunshine is scarce
A breeze chills
It is beautiful and powerful

The trees are bare
But they let in the sun's hue
Its warmth shines through
But I miss the shade

Winter has come and gone
Summer isn't far behind
You have left a coldness in my life
To you, this is my song

Inside the box of dreams contingent to divergent nightmares
In the confines of a large painting and solitude and suns
You smell the beauty of her soluble features in the eyes as one
Does it do to have a surplus of truth
The ego of driving id letting your inner self spasm without word's worth and worthiness
Relate to someone, whose heights you must torch and focus on oh so much
Buffering winds and engulfing flames, and paint of wolf and werewolves
The moist stench of inventiveness and red veritas of the current year, in the current art of the raw and cooked
Often, thousands of years could be prepared, before you learn a decade of failure, brewing strangely
Decadence doesn't exist in this defined structure wither the body withers in song and dance
Sundry and adamantine guillotines do sew her flesh in hatchets, axes, and bows
Arches and gallantry of cavalry in a dither and dearth dense censuring, of diseased purgatory
Looking at yourself beyond the riches, and rags to ditches.

Shadow falls
On the clouds
Like light
Lighter than feather
Are the birds
Touching the skies

The cereal of the morning
The jam and bread
The haze and shade
Of a rainy day

Birds sing better
When the sun's out
Shining
I keep a pocket
Full of dust
For my possessions
Full of pistols and guns
The deceased don't ask for much

If the moon calls out your name
It lets out a whisper
Because my heart speaks to it softly

The girl who got away
Blocked her account
And left me with her memories
The girl who got away
Won't look at me now
But, will notice me in a crowdy street
The girl who got away
Probably, likes watching movies with someone else
But, watches the same movies we watched all over again
The girl who got away
Probably, got a lot better in terms of physicality
But, her heart is a bunch of bandages wrapped with each other
The girl who got away
Loves reading books
But, cannot bear to stop imagining life without reality
I just keep finding her in that library called love
The girl that got away
Met me for the last time
Leaving an everlasting memory which said, "I've moved on."
I finally understood what it meant after I loved someone else
And finally, when I gave back the books, I took from her on rent
She appeared to have become a cautionary tale
Quite quaint isn't it?
Unless I have moved on with dignity
And gratitude on display
Here's my book in a time capsuled by nature
Titled "Gratitude"
For a lover's fortitude
Each fortnight, this love story brings me strength for eternity
For swingin' lovers looking for respect

I see men
Christen the streets
With the same innocence
They show their friends in need

I see women
Touch the pavement
With the same touch
They feed their children

I see children
On both sides of the road
With bowls in hand
Asking for more

When the waters of life are choppy
God saved you from the storm
When times are smooth sailing
God gave you friends

Music is the soul
You can hear it in the rubber sneakers
The fogginess of this song
Finished by the word of you

If not for you
I’d grow old without living life
Riding chrome horses with a calm demeanor with my charismatic wife
Passing by bakeries and butcher shops cutting bread and spreading red wine with a knife
Getting off at our destination I would start to get rude
If not for you

If not for you
My wife wouldn’t fall in love
To me she would’ve been the white dove
Of peace with hair of a golden fleece
And I would regularly meet my niece
Like I used to
If not for you

If not for you
I’d be drugged and bugged and gray
I’d probably end all of it by May
But till this year’s day
I still could say
Beside her I lie
Because I need her too
But I hope I someday I don’t have to woo
If not for you

If not for you
The rain wouldn’t leave the morning bright
The light wouldn’t leave the beauteous sight
Of rainbows shining through puddles and the fresh morning dew
If not for you

If not for you
I wouldn’t have to choose her too
But the game has enticed me
To play it through
Everything looks like an enhanced retrospective view
If not for you

Summer, summer tomorrow, comes with expectation
A day doth bring here its heat
She stares from the heavens with electricity
With a breeze lithe and scarce, it walks over the earth

Stately and respectful in her stride
She hides behind clouds, when out of sight
Her beauty tempers the mind and calms the nerve
A weather so delicate, not a degree or ray less or more

But, when comparing her breath
The heavens turn and stare, wondering what despair
Plagues the incomplete soul and a heart so bare
Like moons hidden from her nascent stare

Scorning the cold moon, the torn heart
Looks for the summer, while crying for heaven's arms

Is your ruthless heart brave and emboldened
Does your heart not waver, I know it flies
Birds wither in wait of your golden sun
As blithe wings should with the loveliest of white

Let's fly seas that have remained quite unseen
Air of fair clouds and sweetness of blonde curls
In my cold solace, with the warm silver face alone
Moonbeams rain! We soon make worlds of our own

How we clasp nights not meant to stay
Hope that finds ecstasy in this passage
Will soon be gone at the break of bright day
Yet, what is lost is not mourned, only bit aged

Your presence such old memories it brings
If nearer the sun, I'd melt my wax wings

Feathered wing
Why Do you
Sail away into the night?

'Cause you're meant to
Sail into love
Sail into heights
Sail into the ocean
Of The Breeze

Whisper like the calm chirping
Of The Birds
Off With the heads of the seas
With Poseidon of
Godly wrinkled waters
That made his gelid cheeks
Of sorrow...
Of a human disguise
So sorrowful
Unspoken
Begotten
By The din

Singin with skipping beats
Playing the same seats
He was done with rustic Lyric
With the growling guitar
"Rusty" leaning by your
Guitar for a change
CHange turning
To your soul
With the grunge
Of Nirvana
ANyone who read this I appreciate
My followers
Greatly
#Good
#With
#Poetry

He says you need a cigarette
You look stressed
That's the last thing I need right now
We need to go somewhere far off

On a distant pond
Where the rocks break the ripples
And the sun reflects in your eyes
Intoxicating me

As I peel off your thin disguise
It is the last time
We'll meet
So let's make it last tonight

Hey there
You there
Standing with the director
In his chair
Talking about the right actor
Slick back your blonde hair
While you’re mouthing to him

Talking about the movies
Sends you into a hitch
Time to talk about that *****
Who is up next
You know you’re not in the right situation
It’s time for the nation
Let’s go again
For the new generation

Looking at the congressmen
With badges pinned across their *******
And a politically-correct three-piece suit
With their largess
Drenched in sweat
Driving the rally into the unknown folly
To fear the unknown people of foreign cities

More than just a sign
It’s all in our precious time
The high-rollers
In their representative fashions
Taking over the world
And committing all the crimes
But that is just all they do
Let’s be moving on too

What about the generals, brigadiers and captains and colonels
With their epaulettes and patriotic decorations
Conspiring against the nation
Like chameleons
Thanks to their post
With ideas
Those are insidiously of corruption
As they stand host
To nations feasting on war
And diplomacy at the most

Political amusement isn’t it
The dichotomy of having aliens
Deported
And these braver politicos star in their expensive overcoats
See themselves getting promoted

It’s rather fun
When the bourgeoisie
With their Large brim hats
To protect them from the sun
Cash in
More money and hate
More than religious faith
Innocents supposedly drowned in sin
Don’t know when good will begin

With the Catholic Church
Being a prison of beliefs
Since the inception of time
Changing political opinion as we speak
Which brought forth with it unnatural urge
Hilarious isn’t it when politics starts to stink
When the crowds go berserk as they scream
For more religious retaliation and a lost dream

Fun isn’t it
For the vengeance seeking righteous prisons
Who wish their prisoners burn in the crimes
That they spin
Before they can live out of those times
And their whims

But who is to blame
The heart isn’t tame
Is it God
Who has made it rough
For the virtuous inferno of actions
That has been extinguished by the holy water of circumstance and disdain

Isn’t it easy to blame our surroundings
Rather than our actions and our fate

Our dreams alive, in three songs
You looking to get ******, in the arms of what's going on
Touch about the reality, of the great good of the hearts of the nosegay I took a nosedive, or the opened up fire of the circle's curlicue
Hells burning and sings, and burns the throat of supernatural sordid affairs of the singed dresses, lips quiver and nape the murmurs, closer to your party girl
Listening to the parallelogram lights of nadirs on the cream drop, on the trap, ******* stint rest are we
Sleeping with the nocturne-blonde, wheelchair on the cannibal dynamo of the change looking in product elitism, sold out before they knew they were buying war
You're a bit inside, further into my ferried heart on the wheels of fire of the crossroads of the good,
The hoods out, the special affair sounds like a girl, the number of the pocket
Of the ashcans on Wednesday, so smart about your Hakagaw bows, open doors to my cellar in speakeasies and tensions
On the phone calls, in the terse rhyme sin, the sails determination of confessing our love, in the strong live in the heart of years that do not have any limitation and have no learned lessons,
See tomorrow's is the night that's alive, it's the midsummer's daydream and the midnight cauterized midriff
How do we sell it, and the trench warfare in the solidarity of the streams of dresses in steaming stowaway, maybe we good we have mister magic selling the war in a handful of stardust
Shadow rises in that pass as years go by
Shadow is a pejorative term for copies of running on hurt looks in open books of minds, we have our own wars in piled plasticine in methanol, hydrogen prologue of the helium
Time throws us into the year in the complete word that completes me, and I'm a bit nicer
I'm so lost, I'm a bit nicer
Deep sarcasm in the classroom
The winners have become bad, and no one cares about the losers
What does it mean? I'm not telling you my stories

His college years were coming to a close
Soon, he became aware of Mrs. Christian
The wife of the headmaster
A German woman with hips luxuriously hanging
Her stomach was slightly loose
But, so were her *******
Yet, she carried them with confidence

He noticed her soon enough
One day, he broke his arm on the field
Mrs. Christian brought to him his meals
Nursed him as she sat on his leg
He could feel his ******* grow
As her *** warmed on the sheets
Yet, such warmth was platonic, still

Sometime later, he stood in the corridor
She asked him to polish his shoes
As he looked down
He caught a glimpse of her cleavage
A pink robe inside, revealing itself
He realized that he had more than a fetish
It was a real fixation
He had become hooked

"You called me, Mrs. Christian."
"Ah. Yes."
"I am aware that the headmaster wished something from me."
"Yes, William."
"Er. You need something."
"Only to inform you, your education is complete."
They turned up the music and waltzed.

Her pink robe, after being removed, was skimpier than he had first thought
Yet, he carefully considered if the tuition included this
He didn't mind her teaching hands too much
As he tried very hard to arouse her purple lips with his hands
Growing impatient, she took her tumescence
And pushed into it, expertly
It was as if the rain had poured for years, unseen by closed eyes

"William. You make me feel."
"Like a woman?"
"No. Just aroused as hell."
"I guess this is ***."
"No. This is art."
"Art is feeling?"
"Touch my heart. You have."

Some places
Are diamond
In the lightning of the storm
My boat is hijacked
God won't leave me alone
Some waves give me hard times
The hail leaves a chill in my bones
My memory is awash
By the storm that came from North

You look to me
Like dandelions in the breeze
With yellow petals to touch
Softest on the earth

If I were free
Like yellow roses in the sea
Pouring their colors into the waters
Too good to last

There's a way to see
That you belong with me

Bob Dylan said in an interview
For the 1970 intentionally underwhelming album Self Portrait
That people need leaders more than the reverse point of view
And so do you
So get off the government’s property
Or they’ll rig the functioning of the military and bring the full force on you

Follow your leaders
Because with your political views
They think you’re blind people who can’t see the crowd
And are simply fireplace thinkers
But what about the people who have a bonfire which they share with heart
Instead of having a hearth
Get off the government’s property
Run from place to place and observe propriety for a start

To them we say go get a job
To clean our urbane streets
But they hope they don’t have to rob
Or get owned or robbed
So get off the government’s property
Or they’ll own you literally and party members will get you mobbed

They lay claim on all the money
Making everything taxable instead of free
For the poor who don’t even enter a tax bracket
And always lie and beg on the streets and cause a blissfully ignored racket
So please get off the government’s property
While we enjoy your money as you stay off the stock market

Serious poems are tough to read
I like poets who can express themselves
Through realism and simple words
Ironic...

You can be my date
My chocolate cake
Taking my breath away

But, you are the stars in the sky
So far away

A forest full of tears
Cries in the morning
Goes to sleep at night
As we tear its bark
After dark

With the first sign of rebirth
Came the gift of time, extended
In its renewal and revival, further
Offering the restoration of friendly relations
All done as an act of reconciliation between progress
As well as forgiveness asked of our mothers, everyday
Within such gifts intended for the common crowd
It is at the stroke of the halcyon hour
That we forget our sorrows and crumble like bricks
What is of this sad ending that we talk of, intentionally
That plagues the essence of the mind which is white as snow and trembling
Only cloudy days can show us the purity of ice
When the clouds do subside, the sweetness that preside
All talk is forced into stony silence under the dark night
Through the mad-sort of palace of time
Where there is a time to withdraw into the study of history
Ashes to ashes as well as fire to fire
Dwelling in a cold curlicle of a silent galvanized gate at a cemetery
Behind a rose garden, where the woodpeckers beak at the windowpane
Rusted beyond recognition broken into windy submission
Such things are built for no purpose and no future promise
Only to sustain posterity and labour
Not to make use of Earthly resources
An old man still waits for the rain
Saying that he is hiding behind the arras of an isolated house
Where the sepulchre is hidden under a rock tattered by zephyr
A string of creeper prostrate themselves, whimpering
That ostensibly grow, under the shadow of a thatched roof
Only to never be seen again in daylight
Of rebirth and redemption
Such is the creeper in the daylight
That lives in utter recluse and retreat

There is a word or two
A cartographer if we go in one piece
There's prose and it's about to get long
It can get opaque and you see the scenery
THere's no place to change who are you and if you left him
Did you break your heart or your leg
If he got you in the midriff is this the best you should expect
Men can be nasty teasers
Fighting for you
The stance on the women and the experience of how paintings still feel.
Thespians are taking over is the feeling of millennial pie in the old English millennial idiom
There's a nasty stranger reading a novel far away
There's a chance that the place you're at is a violent storm
There's a right you have kept
It's the rendition of a short story of Jack Kerouac
Beats me how the place hasn't changed with such green spin on everything
Breathless by the imaginations of long prose, captivate them by the lines
Present a story and bring them to the end of a very poetic journey and protect that it's that last journey you're going t have with them
Some busy people know by now
There's a prettier character in the other person
You'll realize you've ****** them both in the end
A simple end of to a prose
How could you?
There begs the question if there should be storylines in the poetry
Or write novels on free platforms

The role of an artist is not to look away
I see people and their nature change, but, they're all the same
Man is a genius when he is dreaming of shelter from the rain
Some of these men have ambition, as well as intelligence
That gives them wings, and I cannot afford to hate anyone
As long they don't avert their eyes in silent judgment
We are what we do, then, by that logic excellence is something of a habit
But, what we wetlanders must do, is never hide the inner moonlight
Because that's where madness pops in blue limelight of ****** footprints
Snowy mountains and black white reels of cinematography pile up into digital from analogical death
Rebirth in the Phoenician death of epistemological numinous ashes
Spirited away by the talent of many, and ambition of too few

I'll search the towns
The sun is ours
Let us live
Like these are our last hours

Everyday I relive this time
I will never feel alive
I will never give up this fight
Like these are our last hours

As we are lost in them
Your tears come falling instead
The pain just ebbs
What was love has now left

I was born in the rain
Asking will life relive its pain
Came to me in a dream
Seems to me since I was born to scream.

On and off and on again
Seems to me I'm preparing to drown in pain
But after recognizing my old folks
I appears to be unreal.

I don't remember much
After all I couldn't say much
But I remember landing my first punch
How with elation I heard his cheekbones crunch.

My childhood wasn't easy
Nor was it crazy
It was spent introspecting
While being mistaken for staring helplessly.

Finally, now I'm a grown up
Puberty happened instantly
'Cause I was inside me
And I could never get out.

That was until I met my first girl
She could send the boys' hearts in a swirl
Any misogyny
And she would send them back in egotistic whirling fury.

We finally grew old together
Life did relive its pain a lot faster
But at least she didn't die in vain.
Now that's a sad story.

Hey Hey Hey
Yip Yip Yoo
True and dare
To go through the place in the zoomed outland
The mumble is bad I can tell
Someone wants to write cheap music
I can tell
There is ****** in the air
And flippancy will end my misery very soon.

Looking into the *** of literature
Eratosthenes, and getting some midnight wrong
Broken poems, killjoy, I'm in a mellow dram with my bearhugs
In the chugging lurid frescoes of the mind of a gregarious soul with lion's eyes and a wolf's soul, the warmth lit the Savannah
Seems like cold ice, thawed in the nasty weather, left with positivity
Emerson's rude bridge, on the point, on the road, *** or a livid ultimate cunning guy being the ******, kicking the dirt with the incomplete poetic lines, where souls find lost dreams on the end of passion steps, lost Conrad
Do they murmur as a poem which is one, unbeing and being
The poem reminds of a haiku
She once told you
Tea was taken black
Sweet and right, is white on the top
A soul in the heart of darkness find an accident in the heart of weakness of others, my lungs are paper trite on the road around this town
Bless the soul, it knows peace after we're long gone on the dry dirt, kicking up the darkness in dreaming of you
Fear in a handful of stardust in an ashen raging madman
If you could those poets in that lost poem

If you could read between the lines and keep the metaphors alive
Dying and slipping, sliding away away
Concordant lives of the passion of the Christmas, he lives with his Hagrid-like father
Strolling the empty nights, with the Christ in the amazing hodger,  roger in the soul love, and they share the same books
That's why they share different characters, and lines