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 Oct 30
Carmen Jane
Now I know for sure my friend
This is not supposed to end
We could climb a little bit more
We could touch the clouds,above!

We could hold hands time to time
We could find together rhymes
We could even  make our- own song
Climbing up, we'll get so strong

I might have looked away
Don't worry, cause I'm here to stay
Whenever you want  a shoulder
Lean on me, you'll never bother

Shadows can easily  lurk
Everything might seem so dark
To succumb you never must
Sometimes you just need to trust

I can always share the light
Let the wind carry your  kite
I will be here to hold it tight!
You're not alone in your fight!
All flowers spring from the bud,
And waves from bellows of the ocean,
Thunder springs from the cloud,
And ataraxy from a zephyr's motion.

Day springs from the ebony night,
And night from fading beams of day,
From fire springs flames of light,
And many a time crockery from clay.

The mountains spring from the earth,
And from pleasant bowers a haven,
Fountains of love unto joy give birth,
And stars from the shores of heaven.

All vapor springs from the water,
And rain from the far melting skies,
From the sun springs a golden glitter,
And pulchritude from my lover's eyes.

©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Los Angeles, California. 9/5th/2019.
Unto she who'll never read it.
Two kings dwell in a kingdom:
One weareth a golden crown,
And the other a shadowy crown,
But alternately rule the kingdom."

"Her legs, thou canst not see,
For deep in darkness they hide.
Her hair, she canst not hide,
For in light aspire for all to see."

Upon a shoreless sea dwells a wizard,
Whilst awake weareth a golden gown,
Upon slumbering an invisible gown,
Yet all creatures have seen that wizard.

©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Los Angeles, California. 10/27/2019.
Akin to J.R.R. Tolkien's riddles which Gollum questioned Bilbo Baggins in exchange to show him the way from the caves where he strayed, I'm penning my own riddles to be told in my legendarium: "Chronicles Of Nineva"

Each Quatrain is a full riddle in its own.
#riddle #someone riddle me
Poetry has to rhyme
No it doesn’t
That lie is just a crime
It’s meant to fixate
To inflate
The curious mind
The literate kind
Words in a verse
The gold in the purse
Of a creative person

Poetry has to rhyme
No it doesn’t
Your wrong this time
Its meant to uplift
To drift
Into a person thoughts
A charm of sorts
Letters in a line
All beautiful and fine
To read everyday
 Sep 27
If you want to work less,
then don't want bigger, better, best.
If you want more to rest,
don't require the latest, shiniest, trendiest.
And if you want more peace,
desire less pieces.
Desires are mostly selfish WANTS  you see,
but or NEEDS are quite a simple thing.
Food, water, shelter, basic things,
All else is merely bling.
Separate your WANTS from your NEEDS in two lists,
WANTS run forever,
NEEDS fit your fist.
Hop on the WANT train and it may never stop,
There's more at the store,
shop till you drop.
Keeping the greed out of NEED stops excess,
Ghandi, Jesus, Buddha, say that's the way to live best.
If you want more peace,
desire less pieces.
The Wall Street Journal asked people making  $200,000 a year what was their number one worry in life. They said it was money!!
 Sep 24
The X Rhymes

Chapter 1:


in which the reader can explore
how home and garden spats
can escalate to full scale war
between mankind and rats


the story starts some summer’s day
when in a tranquil spot
a human/rodent lawn affray
leaves tempers piping hot

as pleasant stroll turns fight for life
in lush green habitat
commencing as a sunburned wife
screams OH MY GOD - A RAT!

then kicking boots, a swinging *****
a husband’s profane curse
while rat’s escape is somehow made
before things get much worse

under fence and into ditch
he cowers in a ball
tail curled tight, afraid to twitch
hid where the weeds grow tall

as feeling fouled a gardener growls
he’ll spill blood on the grass
and waves a trowel to disembowel
should next that rat trespass

but when the dust cloud settles
the rat makes like a mouse
creeps quietly through nettles
and nests beneath their house

Chapter 2:


in which our rat will contemplate
the human love of hate
a plot device to illustrate
anthropomorphic traits


men have built this social wedge
dividing skin and fur
if born the wrong side of the hedge
you’ll hear their vermin slur

like calling pigeons rats with wings
their prejudice is blind
outrageous fortune’s arrows and slings
do not ennoble minds

they make survival the key skill
for rebels and outcasts
a victim of this ethnic ill
our rat had caught on fast

all problems need solutions though
so gathering his friends
with revolution seeds to sow
our rat says “...ears, do lend

they ghettoise and blight our lives
for reasons rather vague
they cut our tails with carving knives
and blame us for the plague

the question’s be or do not be
acquiesce or defend
lets take arms to that troubled sea
and by opposing, end

my friends once more unto the breach
Apocalypse right Now!
Reservoir Dogs meets Halo Reach
oh brother, where art thou?”

but no paws raised to get involved
no songs sung in protest
and so the issue went unsolved
polite interest at best

they’d just keep calm and carry on
concede, surrender, yield
and so with hope of conflict gone
it seemed their fate was sealed

he thought of payback until late
then finally, went to bed
roll over and capitulate?
he’d sooner end up dead

Chapter 3:


in which the tale continues
to chemical warfare
the holocaust that imbues
this rat’s thousand yard stare


with their need to annihilate
such horrors man can think
a rat could underestimate
the depths to which they’d sink

that’s why he failed to smell a rat
when man set out some food
was such his lust for body fat
obligingly he chewed

while thinking what a lucky chap
their prejudice has turned
so he devoured every scrap
until his stomach burned

and when the meal would not digest
his mood went south from thrilled
and feeling ill returned to nest
to find his friends all killed

every one of them deceased
the reason plain to see
they too had found that poisoned feast
and ate as much as he

horror struck as rat deduced
from all the ***** hurled
his life, like theirs would be reduced
he’d not long for this world

behind him was his last sunrise
ahead lay no man’s land
a distant look befell eyes
he’d make his final stand

Chapter 4:


in which our rat will meet his end
but just as death draws near
a potent message he will send
that’s received loud and clear


they say that an undignified crawl
from certain points of view
can still be seen as ‪walking tall‬
depends where you crawl to

a one-man mission rat would lead
avenging those deemed ‘pest’
the only weapon he would need
was nature’s own bomb vest

he’d sneak in under radar
and dig past their front line
to this cruel world bid au revoir
and make himself a mine

hit ramming speed and say farewell
and give as good as got
his parting shot, the putrid smell
when he began to rot

so through a hole already gnawed
rat crawled to meet his fate
the pain too great to be ignored
but soon, he’d detonate

from deep within their crawlspace
a lesson he would teach
a rictus smile on his dead face
hid way beyond their reach

on slow release as he decayed
he’d poison their clean air
a ***** bomb, a gas-grenade
low-tech, bio, warfare

by process of corruption
an A-bomb, he’d mushroom
a weapon of mass disruption
to stink out all their rooms

like chlorine, sarin, cyanide
enough to sting the eyes
while flying from his rancid hide
for shrapnel he’d throw flies

no armistice or peace treaties
in this rat’s one-man war
he’d go down taking casualties
by drifting through their floor

that’s how you earn the name hero
when hope is almost gone
if sucker-punched by torpedo
you make yourself the bomb

Chapter 5:


in which I spill an afterthought
on rat’s red mist of rage
for those who like their poems short
just skip this final page


revenge - a dish that’s best served cold
to retribute wrongs done
it’s made when anger’s heat takes hold
a humble pie, spat on

but rat preferred the slower burn
that smells bad while it bakes
the kind that makes the stomach turn
insidious as snakes

choose patience as your virtue
set low your cooker dials
when hurting those who’ve hurt you
the rat inside you smiles
I do do short ones.
But this isn’t one of them.
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