Luminous fallen child,
       Your star exploded.
The sublimation of youth
      Discarded in the dizzy geometry,
Like fireflies in a city
      Against the anonymous streets.
Home is where the heart is,
      Blood of cement and gravel.
Child, phosphorescent angel,
      Your light is a poor full moon.

So many keys to success!
You just have to be at the right door,
There's a bunch of options;just don't be careless,
You might drop your key to floor,
And fail to recover it,
So many keys but specific,
Each individual has their door and key of breakthrough

all lives
are books
with unfinished pages

stories told
without knowledge
of the end

life stories
always incomplete
with open-ended plots

to be continued
by those who go on
living

When you don't get in touch with your inner self,
You lose touch of yourself.

The land of raw beauty,
Not entirely peaceful,
But I still have hope that one day unity will be treated as a duty,
For this land,I'll forever remain indebted to say "I'm grateful",
So many names are thrown upon this place,
But only the blind believe what they've heard about a thing even without seeing its face,
Dark continent???
Well black is beautiful,
It portrays strength,power,hardwork, toughness,
Though others bleach out of their complexions,they don't understand they contain pricelessness.
If only all could see what I see,
If all great dreams could come to be,
If only we all could just believe in what we had,
Including love,
Greatness would be attained,
Been robbed and taken advantage of,
In the name of innocence,
The innocence I call foolishness and illeteracy,
That's old stuff,shouldn't be the case.
My mind can't stumble upon even just one idea to change history,
But its got plenty to change the future.
If life is hope,I believe hope is life.

How like a feather
in dancing fields, royal hues
perfume the twilight.

thinking of times
when walking for a mile
took you into a different world
climbing a hill
    through clinging underbrush
filled you with apprehension
of what might be awaiting you
beyond the crest

then
to slowly open up
the pages of a book
was always more
than just a ritual of escape

the not so casual touch
    of a girl’s hard breast
    a boy’s lean hand
upon your shoulder
sent shudders down your spine
of inarticulate hot expectations
and brought wild images to you
at night
in lusting isolation

to keep this core
   the sense of awe
   of wonder and excitement
alive in you against the waves of many years
is not an easy feat
   yet worth the while

it makes you see
    when many just walk by
life’s gracious beauty of small moments

                        * * * *

Be an individual,
Make your own choices,
Create your own beauty,
Don't let anyone determine who you are,
Do it for yourself.
Beauty is everywhere if you ask me,
But TRUE BEAUTY;the real deal,
The ideal kind,
Is not everywhere,
Its ignored,simply because its not easy to attain
True beauty is knowing who you are,
Defining yourself,accepting yourself and loving yourself.
Being loved by the whole world at the expense of your own dignity is NOTHING close to being beautiful.
Be who you really are,love yourself before you start searching for love,only then will you know by which standards to actually live.

She realised inspiration was all around her,
She could change her hand writing like a chameleon would his colour,
Her thoughful mind had so much to say,
Not through her mouth but her fingers per se,
When faced with challenges,
She'd create pages,
Pages of words of encouragement,
She chose poetry because it was one of the things she did with so much ease and without worry of being wrong,
So she chose poetry.