One of the most abused gifts of life,
Even toothpaste commercials use it to advertise,
Brings pleasure whilst leaving others in deep strife,
Its one thing that creates soul ties,
It deserves more than just physical feelings to be undergone,
Though,it seems in this area we have chosen to be ignorant and to harden our hearts like stone,
As long as we satisfy our momental desires..
And when the deed is done,our conscience fights itself then retires..

It retires from caring who the deed is done with later on..

You didn't just happen,
You were created,
You're incredibly beautiful/handsome even when plain,
Opinions shouldn't define you,
Define yourself,
You won't ever live here again,
So living based on peoples opinions will just wear you out for nothing.

Process by which plants make their food and clear our air using light,
They have no feet or hands but they make their food right,
Being self sufficient,I bet they've got no need to fight.
Nature is inspiring,
Birds always happily singing,
Guess their songs are never expiring,
And they're surely thankful for the air they breathe through photosynthesis,
Do we appreciate our trees enough?or maybe the point of their existence we miss?

Don't chop them off unless you       need to.

I needed some time, before I go outside my shell
Seems I've made a crime, the world to me always yell
I have no more dime and have nothing left to sell
Visited by anti sublime, as if  I am under their spell

Not at my prime, looks like near to my final bell
Cannot make another chime, but I'm not ready yet for hell
Seems I've lost my rhyme, so by now no more poetry to tell
Because I needed to buy some time, again before I go outside my shell


written: November 11, 2014
Those days... When the world become villain to our passion...
No other choice but to take a break...

Mysterious Aries

When poets die
It's sad and true,
It matters not
What their bodies do,
The spirit flies
To Poet's Corner,
In Westminster Abbey.
You'll not see
Busts or inscriptions
For all the poets
Whose spirits linger
Alongside Chaucer, Browning, Spencer,
And a myriad of authors.
Dead Poet you have earned your share;
Dead Poet I will know you're there,
Composing in the Laureate's lair.