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She plucked a white rose
from the front gardens

my gorgeous niece
sunrise of youth
glowing on her cheeks

with a bewildered look
she revealed how
pointless she felt
much of her studies
and school subjects were

I started to lecture
on the importance of school

Barely listening she let go
of her exasperation
and wandered
by the canal with
the white rose
and a soft breeze
blowing through her
freshly dyed hair

I watched her dance away
barefoot back to her room
of pointless studies
and school subjects
I'm not a communist.
  I'm not a socialist.
  I'm not a sadist or a
  satanist. I'm not an
  anarchist. I'm not a
  bonafide capitalist.
  I'll steal food to eat.
  I'll lie to get a beer.
  I'll love you for a bed.
  I am an individualist.
My thoughts are confusing.
I love them, but hate them and I can never tell if they are trying to raise me up or destroy me. I will look at myself in the mirror and think that I look pretty. I will look at myself an hour later and want to shatter the mirror with my forehead and smear the blood from my glass cuts all over my face as makeup to go to work. What difference does an hour make!?
we love an accidentally indecisive brain
Driving to nowhere
Tears and rain falling
Sobs in the air
Music in the background
Hurt in the heart
Pain the soul
Time cheats
minutes play
the world’s display.

Life beats
the rhythms of my heart
~ a rhapsody.
It goes astray,
risks its confusing game
but... no delay.

Words fight their legacy;
~ ecstatic tragedy
with no eulogy.  

The gaze of sky is shy
not knowing why;
~ a child’s eye.

Some windows are cemented  
like thoughts when tormented
like hearts left unmended…

Magic loses its story
in the Face of Glory.
Glory ~ half of the story.

Some trees are so high
like humans seem
before they lie.

Languages fade
when we connect:
~ a superficial tie.

Confidence’s like a fortress
the higher its walls
the deeper its foundation
the stronger its reasons
the threatening the weapons…

Betrayal has no shame;
resisting memories
~ a touch of pain.

If envy’d be a poem
lyrics would eat themselves.
How would the world, then, look like?
~ a poem of nonsense.
Sing along with me,
A verse of bewildered cries.
Imitating the harmony of Dolos,
A verse of guile and disguise.

Sing along with me,
A verse of reflections and surprise.
A story of betrayal and regret,
A verse of love breeding lies.

Sing along with me,
A parody of love and affection.
A story of the blind,
A verse of false satisfaction.

Sing along with me the last verse,
bleeding wound whispering a silent curse.
A verse of the last breath,
A banquet of life and death.
SHARING WING BIRDS

A moon
the colour of sorrow.

Rain falling
like regret.

The memory
of your beauty

awakened by
the music

tiptoes on moonlit feet
slowly silently

across the moon coloured
lawn.

A cat
(immune to human emotion)yawns

silhouetted against
an Autumn moon.

He listens
to our human words

more out of boredom
than anything else

as if we were characters
in a play

enacting words that will be
forever spoken:

“Let us be sharing-wing-birds
...that thing of legend...

with only one eye
only one wing

only by sharing wings
can we fly! ”

Chiselled into
a night gone by

the words remain
engraved upon the air.

The cat wonders
how do humans do that

...& why?
He pads quietly

through  and
through the words

the memory of us
bristling his fur.
kind of yellow rose
yellow leaves and black blotches
Sulphur yellow rose
There once was a illness from China
That spread through contact and saliva
Now we drink way too much
And stay inside to avoid touch
I’ll be a drunk at the end of this virus
I got challenged to write a limerick about the virus. Cranked this out in like six minutes so the rhymes aren’t exact. Still thought it was funny
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