With delicate, yet awkward, fingers
I edge my way down my throat
And loosen the cut you made on my neck.
Nails crawl through my flesh
until I hear the strum of my failing violin, cat gut, vocal chords.
An ear drum bursting TWANG;
Reminiscent of the s c r e a m s
You forced from my bones.

My body twists around the thought of your
Gaze pounding down my spine.
You’ve buried your way into my skin,
A burdensome parasite I can’t shake, or dig out.
Despite the number of nails I break
And bones I dislocate.

That Singular Lego Piece,
When I was younger and
life was just walls...
That where just falling down
around me,
                 I found something.

A single piece of Lego.

       And on it scratched into
it where three words...

Always build higher.

Where my life had been
even at such a young age.
                            I thought
             the only thing walls were,
where ones that crumbled.

But after that moment,
when all I fell upon
                  where pebbles of lost moments.
                  That could have built
higher but crumbled, like so many.

That one brick,  built me higher
            than any singular instant.

And to this day,
                  I have never looked
at another lower,
                     or higher than myself.

For ever brick is built on the strength
            of another taking the weight
of the one below it.

And without that strength below,
           we couldn't build ourselves
                            to the height we are today.


Everyday I wear that brick around my neck.


Not to weigh me down, but to realise,
       that below every brick
       is another holding us up
                  with there strength, and without them
                                                    we would crumble.

Freedom is a gift the wicked try to steal
but in their blindness they truly cage only themselves.

I am day when it’s night in my mindset.
The dark has no power on me.
I inhale the stars ash with no thought,
And exhale the moons rays from the sea.
With a smile I could bleed the nights darkness,
And burn all the clouds from the sky.
It’s always in the days that I struggle,
Always in the nights that I fly.

I lose myself in memories past
Watch scenes on a loop
Run these memories through filters so that
Brighter, softer, more muted hues speckle the reminiscing
Harsh lines now resemble an impressionist painting
Harsh words now a poets tongue become
Harsh actions a noble deed to overcome a harsher pain.
Harsh words fall soft from the tongue
Diluted memories in ombré hue
Gradually blending and shading
Until only an impression of a memory remains.

I heard the silhouette of your heart
       echoing in the eyes of our love.
You were a seed that grew entwining
                  around our everyday lives.

Like a petal you were blossoming,
              but then the wilted slowly.
Never did we think beauty could fade,
        every heartbeat a precious reflection.

Where once we had joy, then sadness
       enveloped our hearts, as still as yours.
When you were born, no tears of joy as
       petals had fallen, and stillness entered our lives.

"Every beat is precious,
                      hold everyone one like its a delicate petal"

Where all a collection
              of dead stars.
This is why we burn
so brightly for a finite time.

And when we burn out
             where just faded
reminisce of universal reflection.


Never let your shimmer fade,
               because we are only
                                    moments

Fading within a lifetime
                of memories
                 that like stars dim.

Something wrong somewhere?
River is supposed to carry water not silt!
It supposed to bless us with water and humus!
But not with sandcasting!

Something wrong somewhere?
Forest is supposed to encompass us with diversity of fortune not with weeds!
It supposed to bless with wilderness of life and opportunity to learn relationship
But not with generation of threat and depreciation!  

Something wrong somewhere?
Road supposed to provides us way to transfer,
Transfer of goods and services of our toil
Transfer of knowledge, idea and skills for betterment!
Not to transfer all the venom of destruction!
Destruction of nature, culture and people!

Something wrong somewhere?
Ruler suppose take position for welfare of all
Not for material gain, congregation of power and arriving at fame!

Something wrong somewhere?
People supposed to stand by the people in joy and in misfortune!
Suppose to stand for brotherhood and posterity
But not to abuse and overthrow!

Something wrong somewhere in the commencement
We unable to learn
‘How to learn and make decision!’
Because every decision spoils our dream, robbed our mammon of life!

Something wrong somewhere
Need to start it again from the beginning!

We are only woven as strong
       as the silk that binds us.

It may fray,
            it may discolour,
    but never will it break.

For it has a beauty that
            will still hold beauty,
    will be cleansed of any impurity.

We collect our weaves of silken humility,
                  for our humanity is soft and pliable.

It may fray, be discoloured,
            but It will always be strong.
Humanity is beauty beneath the dirt.

we sell the individual curses of our seldom mirth
for little more than concepts and pure dirt.
we achieve what we believe.... and if we believe contrary
to a most excellent truth ; we conjure all the lies
worth dying for.... but never hardly move.

A wave of thought always encircles you,
A wave of yarn link to civic concern always involves you,
A hope for change always enforces you,
A longing for endeavouring cogent living always inspire you,
Your brashness for a transformation yields this long journey,
A journey for reflexion, inquest, elucidation and communication,
Communiqué for an unfailing thinking and for an effort for human wellbeing!
Now it is the time for us to continue this journey,
A journey of unfurling thought for rationality, fairness and equality!

It was the night of the thundersnow,
Meteorological harpie normally reserved for our northern brethren.
She stood grimly at the window,
In wait for a dawn which would not come
Save for the odd light, the incongruous rumbling,
Mock forbearer of those easy languid evenings of August.
She'd made some noise approximating a sigh,
Then returned to undress,
I hurriedly unlacing my boots, removing my pants,
(My feigned nonchalance a foolish, pitiable thing)
And I remember her ******* as  oddly demure,
Her ******* bewitching gumdrops,
The triangle below her waist downy, almost kittenish.
I'd broken her maiden clumsily, eagerly, all unheeding haste.
We'd lain next to each other for a short while afterwards
(The schools already closed for the next day,
Her father recently gone to the boneyard on Ludlow Hill,
She soon to be shuttled off to some spinster aunt in Dillsboro.)
I'd nattered on about summer vacations and thens and laters;
She'd said little, simply studying me with the bemused half-smile
One saves for sad dreamers not intimate with the knowledge
That notions of tomorrow and forever are strictly for suckers,
And as I strolled home come mid-morning,
The sun implacably straddled the sky,
Leaving the sidewalks and shoulders of the road
Completely dry, as if the night before had been a thing
Of perhaps-only, of dreams and tales for a later time.