A fiery pit
is blossoming inside of
my chest.
Where my heart
used to reside
no longer resides
a place capable of any
love.
Hate slithers in
like the first rays
of sunlight
on a Sunday morning
consuming me before I even open my eyes.

and I’m finding out
that the only way to
silence the voices in my head
is to scream my own voice raw
and drown them out.
bubbling up like a volcano
on the cusp of erupting
is every penny I’ve ever collected.
holding the memories of what
could never be again.

I’m not sure what
I hate more.
How you made me feel
or myself?

I learnt programming , I learnt science , I learnt history
still unable to solve your mystery
The mystery of your fresh air
the wind in my hair
as you (nature ) thrives
it's good to be alive .

You makes the world a beautiful place ;
and your by product(oxygen)  is essential for human race .
Humans evolved because of you;
yet being grateful is rare , times we thanked is few .

The sky clear and blue
the clouds of all different hue
The sun with its rays
makes our day.

Still ,we destroying you with our all strength
we are crossing our length .
In anger you shake, all we built fall apart;
A number of lives may depart .

Oh nature , you are a wonder
with all love we call you mother
we must promise not to hurt you further
for your beauty and strength , words aren't enough to fit  
let's revive you bit by bit !!

FLUFF:
Frequently, I discover words with hidden meaning, shining like coins in a handful of fluff, apple seeds and other down-the-back-of-the-sofa leavings. Some are too precious to share and I secrete them away. Others I spend cheaply on rigged slot machine verbiage. Mostly they sit waiting to be written usefully. Adding insight, lending moment to my day.

§

NONSENSE:
Foraging amongst the dahlias
For Cinderella’s lost slipper,
I am Barbie magic made manifest,
I am Germaine (sodding) Greer’s antifem,
I am Super Mum with gumboots on.

§

ABSURDITY:
The best nonsense is always spoken in the middle of the afternoon while heading north on a train bound for a smallish beige town, and so it was that the occupants of second-class carriage BG1754 found themselves gripped by a kind of eloquent hysteria as they rattled around the final bend in the tracks before the steep descent to the weatherboard station at Claggy Peat.