I've driven myself in
to the valley of deserted
Tears.

To where it's too hot,
while living is an isolation.

There's no river nor
lush forest around,
its as dry as the desert
sands, then humidity
strikes your nerves
that you'll feel
overcooked.

The crimson sky
Bleeds of its inking
Beauty...

I on the other hand
solidify my strength
to ease the burden
I carry, as i lift myself
Little by little towards
A meaningful step
For SURVIVAL!

© pax

The plump moon lights up my room.

My mind is now a flat graph
no desire no lust no dream

the cold winds from the rumbling sea
make no dent on me
I look at my palms
and see the cracked floor
gnarled roots of mangrove on the wall
blend seamlessly with all I have
like once I had her in this room
love together
taking wingless flight to the moon
but now I more like sitting here
prospecting no words to rhyme
not angered at the blankness
for in this vacuous moonlight
I wait without a hope of gain
without a despair of loss
unconstrained for time
contoured by fireflies
alone
recounting a new beginning
from the end.

Words are now
as if
I never wrote

gather as an aching
lump in my throat.

They don't seek paper
only a river
to pour and mingle
in refrains of a dumb sadness
flow away
sunburned and tidewashed
to where the river is widest
deepest with sighs
of life not enough
in once only
and when just begun
ending broken on the shore.

A dog's life

On the dog the blazing sun pours
but closed are all the doors

hungry and thirsty and mad in heat
the asphalt burns his feet

Isn't there a kind heart
to see and feel his pain

to play God's part
as His will ordained?

Life without a roof

His bed is the pavement
roof the firmament

famished and sick
his pillow is a brick

people pass without a stare
if you're fine all else is fair

their sight is a shame
disreputes the city's fame

Where is God?

Full is His misery's cup
all muddled up
He has no clue

why nothing went fine
with his divine design
what to do!

Is all lost?*

Two gifts you still can feel
in your mind live their trace

to use them if you truly will
love and kindness*.

I write not because i seek your truth,
i just do - for someone who seeks
understanding in all the doors we see.

I write not because i seek your pity,
i just do - for someone who seeks
understanding in all tough roads we
go through.

I write not because this is a job,
i just do - for someone who seeks
relief to the burden he has not
spoken out loud.

© pax

I don't want my life to be
amazing, i just want it
to be happy...

i wrote a lot of great poetry when i was in love
i wrote even better poetry when i was in pain
i wrote the best poetry when i realized that the two emotions were actually the same.

For the longest time
I've had this romanticized view of lonesome drinking
I picture someone slowly zippin on a drink
and smoking sophistically
in a dull light
while writing great poetry

But when I've finished my 12th beer
and my 28th cigarette
in a dull light
And the only thing I've written
is something ****** like this

that romantic view is dead

Still I know
that tomorrow
Once my hangover is gone
I will do it all over again