Little moist drops of heaven
       Trickling down my throat
    The heavenly burn,
                   delicious
Synonymous with an Angel's wings
               fluttering in my esophagus
     Liquid lightning, striking
          Almost blasphemous
 A devilish game of Russian Roulette
              With four shot glasses,
   Three rogues and one gent
Emotions getting looser
    Clothing getting tighter
           The taste becoming
     Sweeter
          Liquefied demon tears
Playing a wicked game
            with my insides
    Putting a beautiful curse on my mind
             Melted Whiskey Raindrops
     Sending shivers down my spine
           This hellish war of love, hate and
                    Intoxication
   Has never felt so
                  *Divine

when you don’t know what to do
close your eyes and remember the
afternoon we spent giggling in the
burning sun, lying with sand between
our toes and forever on our lips.
grab and follow that feeling,
it’ll take you where
you need to be

"O GOD ! only hand--- only leg
bleeding, hanging to the chopped body --o god !?!"

enough ! to discharge the debt of the soil.

"o god!
these little babies who are supposed to be the metaphor of passion,
are forced to be the product of flesh trade !
these tender hands , supposed to paint the alphabets
are made to clean the riffles !
o god !
they are eating mud--
they are drinking the ***** of animals...."

yes! the survival is important
to break the shackles of this soil.
"O GOD ! O GOD ! O GOD ! O G>>"
no !. no!. sympathy? charity ? i am not the beggar !
do not come on the wings of eagle holding the dove.
if you have a human soul..
demand those who are shedding crocodile tears.
i demand the answer , not the bread of consolation.
do the sons of my soil robbed these big-brothers at any time?
tell them not to declare the renegades as the protectors of my land.
* * * * * *
tigris and euphrates, ganga and godavari
amazan, dandakaranya
somalia, rhodesia---- red with blood
santiyago, madrid, -- echoing
tahir square, beijing, brasilia... burning--
* * * * * * * **
i may be falling down-- but i will rise ...
o big brother... you are not god
you can declare yourself as jesus
i am the child of spartucus

"o god ! are you a terrorist? are you a revolutionary?"

ha ha ha--- let it be.
now , the deserts having oil in lap
the forests having minerals in heart
the voices demanding the natural justice
are these the shelters of terrorists.. revolutionaries ?
let it be!
i am a revolutionary........
to discharge the debt of my soil !!

ever is where?
I am at it
      I never have seen
a ridge where night
touches the dew- or
     sunlight glows
on both the day and you.

There I sat upon
   a ledge teetering
fearing heights
              and the depths of darkness
     below. Tottered
down upon spoiled grounds.

Ever is where-  over a hill?
    may we ever see
sun glints-
      on green
      eyes
strong trees,
          sowing seeds
in sunlights.

Recently,
her mind is
debating
with her heart
resenting
every word
she wasted
on this paper
and all the metaphors
you haven't even decipher
but how
can she stop it
you have brought her up
to the top
then pushed her
to this
bottomless pit
now
she's stuck
in this drop
and it's growing
big
like
a bad habit
running
like
a mad rabbit
munching
on her thoughts
of you
while trying to
remove your face
off the view
like grime
on her tiled walls
made by
endless waterfalls
of whys and what ifs
and all her selfish beliefs
like
how you will read
her poetry
and chew the words
like sticky pastry
but her mind said
"you're wasting your ink"
she should stop writing
poems about you
and let her
memories
sink
in the letters
of your name
that are scattered
in her head
all printed
in heavy lead
therefore now,
she concluded,
the real dilemma,
to wake her up
in this coma
of dreams of you
and
find
a paper
that will reach miles
across the equator



-I Should Stop Writing Poems About You, Margaret Austin Go

You're a work of art
I can hear your heartbeat from here
Even when you make no noise
I can still hear the water falling deligently
When it's a freezing storm
You're what keeps my heart warm
Don't listen to the others
I forgot to put tape on their mouths
We can tie them up together

I see you, Winter,
creeping through cracks,
slipping innocent snowflakes out and about.
I know you, Winter,
and your icy touch and your frosty flowers.
You fooled me with beauty
that happened to be deadly,
just a year ago.
I'm not falling for it now, Winter,
don't you dare bring to me
another pair of sparkly eyes
that shall freeze me
in only a few words.
Do not show yourself with tasty lips,
blowing icy winds into my mouth.
Let's make peace, Winter,
and enjoy ourselves,
this time around.

It's hard to believe
at one point in my life
I had almost completely
given-up.

But is that not
life within itself?
Going through
peaks and valleys
while falling in-love
with those
that actually care
to help?

Yes,
It is truly
funny how things
work out.

Because all the
problems
I once had,
are now
all the things
I laugh
about.

everything you do, is perfect just like you.
i wanna make you swoon.
and fly you to the moon.
and dance you in it's light,
we can make out the whole night.
and it can try with all it's might,
but it will never be as bright,
as you my dear, in all your grace.
you'd shame the sun right in it's place.