Loll in a realm of no regards, shuffle the game of life like
a deck of cards — playing into the quest to uncover who
you really are. Each life begins with a question:
“Is it a boy or a girl?”

“Will I be a nurturing mother? A father who can provide
for their all,” each life begins with a question – especially now,
as we ponder this curious phenomenon called life; is it still
worth it, at all. Cloaked in whispers of our cherished dreams,
the most fragile among us are those who beam brightly, even
with kinked teeth.

The gentle craving for a richer life is as tender as the insides
of our teeth — revealing everything we risk on the overflowing
platter of those we disdain; initially, it was a pleasure to meet.
Yet, I was lost in my role in this world at first – bestowed a name
at birth, still grappling with its significance in a titled world –
entitled!

Don’t we pretend that’s what we deserve even from man’s great
fall, who inherited their sin galore. I question it all. Don’t we
all act as if we deserve it all, even after humanity’s great fall,
which bestowed us a legacy of sin?

                                I question it all.

I think the solution is this.

The Israelis come to live

in Ireland and we go there.

They could begin cleansing

the non ethnic Scottish and

lowlife English settlers from

the north, all of whom could

be eradicated using the same

holocaust techniques as they

are employing in Palestine.

Island life would be best for

the Jews because nobody

want to be anywhere near

them. Meanwhile the Blue

line in Lebanon would be

green and the Irish would

slowly convert Muslims to

Guinness and Gaelic games.

Hamas Houthi and Hezbollah

could retire on IRA pensions

from the new Irishstine state.

While I was trying to find
where love could be
Love had come
           A thousand times
and I failed to see

Fast falls the rain,
cold upon the summer of my expectations,
and yet, I do not feel it wet upon my skin,
it puts a damper on my aspirations,
the earth is dry, my sense of drowning lies within

"Physical matter is music solidified" – Pythagoras

You stand there with that rose in your hair
singing that small song in a big big way
your voice cracks and you stare at the air
while everyone else is thinking, No Way !

You once were a mouse with no door
and your voice was a tiny whimper
Today you sing as if your life is much more
than a mere complicated existence, its much simpler

Your stand there with that rose all askew
thinking your a femme fatale, and by the way,
who asked you ?