so the bodohggedies
danced their dance
under the soogothle tree
and in their minds
they sang sigines
of  depopple lines
and made the world
fleaegopple

then the caturnaps
made jackgnondle pies
and recited zungundes
of yeesterways and
told gobnibbittts
imogabble lies
to make them
flabhouter away

and when the great day
of Ubuinaqa was almost done
the teopssangwars
gave chant to the
promise of Gosbingilia
in formal
Datulach ligalibilate
and all Phfidugimea
around sat and listened to
the haquisalical sound,
sighing with
mneuss and saeszfedi

Flowers on headstones.
Vivid colours amongst grey
To brighten the grief.

today we count down
years since your first breath
so let's take a moment to recall it all.
              
                         ...

I've been whispering you
Happy Birthday
since ten years ago.

One decade seeing you grow
becoming the man you always
been wishing for.

Happy birthday my dear husband
and happy many years
together dancing.

I will continue to wake you up
in the middle of the night
to whisper softly
'Happy birthday Adrian!'

There are poems inside of me, that the paper can’t handle,
Words that roar from within usually causing a scandal.
Pages and pages pour out from within,
Still losing when I saw myself to win.

Emotions rush through my eyes and lips,
Like a stormy sunset rising from the doomed ships.
On a planet in a new constellation,
I began to write in my own celebration,
Lost in the galaxies within my soul,
I vaguely slipped away from control.

My mind is eating away at the emotions surrounded,
Hers, his, yours and theirs all of them bounded.
Some borrowed, some enforced,
many thrown at me without remorse,
I prayed they would go away in due course.

I push and push away. I don’t know what will stay,
I don’t know what will sigh a relief, it’s time I choose my belief.
With blood splattered across the walls,the beauty of my mind is a terrible place to live in,
To this fragile side of me, I give in.

Most of my love poems are about people who never stayed,
you know the ones I begged for and prayed.
You think this would make me say something beautiful about love that lasts,
The people only become a leaf attached to you in your past.

When the infection comes, the calls come ringing,
‘Are you ok? What were you thinking?’
Finally a sickness that a doctor can detect,
The ones the sharp blades of tongues cause are of neglect.

I want to raise monuments of intellect,
To the nebulosity of poetry I pay my due respect.
For the ocean of words I carry inside of me must survive,
My fondness I, or you your power keep alive.

Pungent coffee stains with the magnificent for company,
I spill a drop in a background of shiny metals creating an orchestral symphony.
Sitting in the boulevard I chase words into poetry,
Alongside the parades of chaos singing a different symmetry.
I write of sunsets, birds, kisses and seas,
I even write about branches on broken trees;
Of tales where the hero is the villain,
and those who felt pain in dol multipled them a trillion.
Of lonesome characters that wrote letters of love,
they even defied their gods above.

It was his eyes that made me drink black coffee,
no sugar, no cream, not even toffee.
Deep, dark and bitter was the way he was;
I even went to ‘Home Bakery’ just because.
Decoctions of coffee comforted my freezing moments,
heartbreak came to me in brief installments.
Like most of my men with no names,
my heart burned without any flames.

I love him like I love my coffee,
and you must believe me when I say
I will perish like the aroma of the first brew.