Those
People
Who
Take
Care
Of
Their
Neighbours
Know how to live in society!

People don't need freebies
They need honest  promises

Why don't try to taste honesty?
It's splendid, sweet and favourable to health of the soul!

Everywhere
Talent is waiting to be shone, to be honoured

floating lights 
and dark skies
sit on the phantom
heir as chair

a soft touch
a ripple 
in the deep
blue sea

paper chairs 
and crosses
float 
beneath 
the skies
as sheet

(the eye wake
gaze
at merry old
stars;
the ***** wonder )

we are weak
when we 
are poor
and meek
when we 
admit the tongue
did defeat

an old pair
of glasses
as glory

we all
 wither
                  all mouths
meet winter
i hope
to 
see
wall
grow flowers

before 
a machine
gives
birth.

On a day of smog-compactness,
And when I, in tunic, on planks stooped,
Through the clumsy cluster of logs,
Like an arrow out of a bow, ricocheted he,
The warrior, the dictator, the vampire!
His manes, I bet, golden silky threads,
Dangling on his thick and flabby neck,
And like straight standing swords
In the naked sun, uprit, his fangs!
The persons, crouched, and the cattle,
Out for fodder, stuck in stamped,
To the dichotomous ways, scuttled!
His prey, he telescoped, oh! Unfortunate dog;
Yes! Galloping was in a jiffy, and
The old king was on his throne!
At the crevice I, in tremors, thanked God;
And he,  the victorious, eyes smouldering,
Trekked, roaring, growling and howling!
Though dreadful, how jolly moments,
For them too, I am sure, yes, so sure,
Met the lord of the forest, lord of the beasts,
And in thickness of bushes, he vanished!

they ask me how i love you,
why i never leave you,
i try to tell them,
your flaws are what make you,
perfect

Festivals
Are the golden opportunities
To make  relationships much stronger!

If ideas spring
Pull them down
If don't follow
Let them get brown!

Their freedom to tell their depths is now confined to a week.
But despite the propaganda, they are still afraid to speak.
On the outside, they are perceived as nothing but freaks.
On the inside, their lives are catastrophic, yet also bleak.

From their mountains of anxiety to their valleys of depression,
Nobody wants to listen to their pleading expressions.
They're forced to hold down their feelings with constant suppression.
So desperate to become invisible, it becomes an obsession.

As if their sickness was not as legitimate as one of the physical kind
Just because it plagues their body on the inside of their mind.
Behind their daily masks, they are continuously confined,
And the rest of their lives will be wrapped in a box and predefined.

They often wish things were how they saw them: nothing being real.
They use third person pronouns to describe how they feel
Because, whether they like it or not, they aren't made of steel,
But continue to futilely dance around the solar system's wheel.

Time
Is
The
Speaker
And we must be perfect listener to execute whatever it asks for...

Now I have you,
The hands, roses boughs,
But clasping mine on the slant
And amidst the blizzard
And when the street lamps are blurred,
The lips of honest promises
And of open windows,
The lap of serenity
And of fluffy bedsheet,
The tears of balm
And tears of my tears,
I know the real assesst of marriage,
O my soul, the most desired soul.
No emirald, no sparkling necklace,
And no luxurious car with heavy wallet
Can wiegh more than thee!

I packed my bags and left a note, I'm headed for the moon. With luck tucked in my pocket, I'm bound to get there soon.

I've heard the moon was made of cheese, not the stinky kind. If there is a man up there, I won't leave him behind.

I know the sun could be a problem, my rockets old with rust. So I'll go at night instead, singing "to the moon or bust."

I have a plan you mustn't worry, It won't fall apart. With fairy dust and this old rocket, hope fills my once cracked heart.