Cruelty covers my tears
In an opaque veil
So you can't even tell
How affected I am.

A poem a day
Keeps the doctor away
Two he may need to be called

Three poems a day
The doctor’s on his way
No way could his coming be stalled!

Four poems a day
The doctor has to stay
Five and tough is his work

If the number are six
The doctor’s in a fix
How could he stop the flying spark!

Poems by the hour
Is beyond the doctor’s power
Poems by the minute is his bane

It’s where he loses self
Badly needs a help
To be declared utterly insane!

If i'm trying to say something
Come out of my mind.
If i'm trying to write a poem
Come out of my heart.

"Why Mr Holmes! Come quick! The vicar's dead!"
"Dearest Lestrade! Another killer lost?"
"The Reverend Green alas was killed in bed,
The frightened Mrs White mirrors a ghost!

Mrs Peacock is in quite a shock,
The Colonel Mustard is attending her;
Motive remains unclear, although the clock
Was stopped at six, when Mr Black was here

He burned the mail, perhaps it held a clue,
The man then ran, and no weapon was found;
Miss Scarlet who was sleeping, slept right through;
Such a tough case, so care to stake a pound?"

"Lestrade! To take your cash would be a crime!
One wonders why the clock stopped at that time!"

Don't wear
Your heart
On the sleeve
It won't survive
Out of place
Says Swamy Downey

Heart is not a watch
Replied SIRI

Thus Spake Swamy Downey
But you gotta watch it
With all your love
Else.........
You android

One day
            we will sing together in perfect rhythm and  harmony
the song history has been awaiting
            the song of stars colliding destiny aligning with the past
and futures bright
            eclipsing the dark vast empty expanses
shining will be  the sun
            melodies of all voices
with a piece of peace
           remembering the beginnings.

Nature has no poverty, wanton destruction or hatred
For she is nature
Man rips out the beating heart
With every saw cut and bite of Axe
With ever searing brand
That lights the fire of mans destruction

Humans, with their materialistic ways
Slowly draining away my beauty
It's almost the end of my days
Can't they see,
What every flower, river and tree,
Means to me?
I'm the mother of all nature
And my loves flows pure
But soon my love for life
Will no longer endure

You are the rain forest
The beating heart of life
And yet how long can you take the wounds
Caused by my lust and greed
Your heart, your beaten bleeding heart
For every drop of your precious blood
Humanity must die

You purposely destroy me
Use me
Cut out my heart, bleed me dry
Leaving me bare
Then walk away as I cry
Without a care
This is not new to me
Been happening for centuries
I think I've had enough now
I'm bringing a flood to watch you drown
Then a hurricane to bury you underground

Nature was placed here to serve me
You are neither master nor lord
And you serve in humility for the betterment of man
But I, I'VE
Chosen to use and abuse what you offer
It's not for me, the delicate surgeons cut
More the slash and hack
Of the untrained butcher
Me, oh me who drains the life blood from this earth

You deserve no more of what I can offer,
I will rain hail of fury upon my precious ground
Simply to watch you suffer
With all living things, I'm naturally bound
But I will destroy the soul of me
Just to watch you die with no mercy
I AM MOTHER NATURE
You will fear me
Bow down to me
Respect me
Care for me
Or you WILL all DIE in misery
Maybe next time, humanity,
You will choose how you treat me more carefully.

Dim lamp light casts
a poetic dance of shadows
from the corner of my
quiet office space
tracing words neatly
in my scribe's notebook
I rassle the pen skillful
to print.

I notice my paced breathing
holding back ever so carefully
the cowering anticipation
of the haunting lull
a writer dreads in times
of fevered inspiration.

My handwriting is strong
and simple, neat and tempered
but I soon expect the sneak
of the serpent scrawl to
wrap around my wrist
and pull me in tighter to
the tempo of a poet in heat.

I brace myself and breathe
deeply, purposefully I release
a humming hush of air
from my loose lungs.

I tend to tap my right foot
to the beat of a silent drum
rarely in rhythm with my
right writing hand.

Here comes the scrawl
I feel I can't control
Is it lack of strength
or the sheer thunder
rolling thoughts on paper??
I think it is a little bit of both

Where are you dear
fellow poets in your
casting hour??
Conjuring up words
to share our wants,
needs, fears and doubts
so perfectly
...or not....

The point is in the
actual act itself
isn't it??

because of you
I use to see colors
but now all I see is grey
at one point your purpose
was intended to be a medicine
but you turned into a drug
and now I'm a struggling addict
that's going through withdrawals-
tell me how to get the colors of my life back that I gave to you
because when I said I loved you so much that I was willing to give you everything;
I didn't think you would keep it all when you left

But eventually, at some point
you will fade away.

and what happened here will
no longer matter.

There will be no evidence of
betrayal
lust
sin
anxiety
worry  
or anything else.

So why give this importance
instead of everything else?

It's about loving what is in front of you-
nothing else.

We see people everyday we'll never see again.
Why put it all on me?
Why not love anyone of them?

I can't undo what I did,
I would do it again.
The importance of all of it you might never understand.
But that's for you to discover now,
as I can't and won't
hold your hand.
Sorry To Be A Let Down,
but as it is
I am what I am.