Most of my bored moments
I take myself for dinner
Seat at the table
And make my orders.
I Take bother hard and soft drinks
Though allergic to drunkardness
I sip with courage
It's a self drive
Joyful to love oneself.

If poetic ink indeed flows from the heart
taking to its walk on scattered stones
Where there is no blurring of pathways,
directions are defined,
thoughts collect in either
ponds or puddles, then

Some you will find lead to a sunrise
where joy thrives in fragrant wishes,
drinking all that is beautiful
in cupped hands glistening,
overflowing with happiness,
if streaming from a heart in love

While some will crawl to an ending
beneath rain dispersing clouds,
weeping in sorrowed words,
laying waste in the darkness,
when escaping from the cracks
of a heart broken

I have been asked
why is my poetry so depressing,
I hope this answers your question

I love how your name
is close to what I hear
continuously talked about
the first word I wrote here.

jey. **

Cremate me, please
and sprinkle my ashes,

                    pinch by pinch
.                               on strippers' eyelashes.

His edges will never complement yours.

Just when you said you like me;
  the dark sky that's covering my afternoon
  did the clouds deform and spread
  and the luminous sun appeared.

Today I am an adventurer
I've traveled the ends of the earth.
Played with the waves of Poseidon
rolled and swam on.