Sometimes I love this broken world
Sometimes I just love that it's broken too

I used to be afraid of picking up broken pieces
For a fear of getting hurt
But now it's an obsession
I observe the sharp edges
Run my fingers across jagged points
If I bleed I hope it might act like glue
I want to mend the broken pieces
Because I'm broken too
And maybe if I fix this
I can be fixed too

They often judge the poet
On the words that he thread
Some readers formed his silhouette
In each poetry that they've read

Judge him not at one piece, else you'll be upset
Because his pen can laughed then can bled
In every second his mind will reset
Truly, you'll never know what's inside his head

In the universe of paper and quill
He can create truth within lies
He can put soul to nonliving
Some of his creations will never die

Every poesy made was alive
Talked of its own tongue
It will definitely survive
Even the poet was long gone



9/23/2015

Mysterious Aries

With just the right
subtle jump
out of body
I descend
It's not the pain that crushes
my chest, it's not the rain
making my face wet, only
the mental sleight
of hand

Bear rejection
Bare deception
Pry the cork from wine
to try time from bottle
Bare the right bane
Bear the wrong boon
Mention this slip to only one
calamitous

I can take a breath
but can't live my life
I am confused I am dead or alive

I have lots of things to do
will you please give some rest
I am now too tired
will you please clean up my bed

I want to see the moon
the clouds are dark
now its going to rain
can I now see it clear

I have lots of dream
will you please give me prefect night
I need to see my dreams
will you please make me alive

Darkness pervades; an empty whole.
Tears fill this broken bowl.
The nectar too salty to quench the thirst
A brutal reminder of what came first

A Blackness, a Void. God illuminated into being.
Beauty, Belief, Faith - a false way of Seeing.
The futile attempts to make the hole whole,
but it's Loneliness that resides in our Soul.

In every being sprung into existence
the Romantic effort of Man's resistance
is Love, hailed as the Cure.
But ask yourself, "Are you sure?".

At a life with Loneliness by our side
Love's importance becomes amplified.
But Love is just a wishful lie
it is Loneliness that embraces us as we die.