This poem is dedicated to all poets in HP of whom I am a happy participant--a very new one--like someone just entering a kindergarten

We don't carry swords
we don't fight in battle-fields
we don't seek power or fame
we are just poets--word-warriors
who put the sword to sleep
to spread that which is noble and worthy
we see the worm festering and eating
into the heart of civilisation
and shall not turn a blind eye
we will keep vigil
as silent sentinels
never mind if we are set aside
by assailants whether open or covert
we know
the world is weeping
and in the abysm of darkness
there is not a single spark of light
quo vadis  **** sapiens?
who or what will give hope
in the face of despair and disillusionment ?
because the world is weeping
we also share its tears
because hearts are broken
part of us dies
because there is loneliness and desolation
we become part of that loss and ruin
because there is poverty and deprivation
we loathe all that wealth and opulence
that seek but their own gratification
but is man born for sorrow and defeat?
where should we turn next?
is salvation and redemption in sight?

Though we are only vox clamantis in deserto
we will despair not
nor should we walk away in cowardice
we must have faith
patience
endurance
words are our bullets
compassion is our shield
will is our fortress
it might take a millenium
to bring about a brave new world
but we are the word-bearers and word-warriors
until the invisible battle is fought
and won
we will never yield

Soft thoughts
Melting down my face
I'm a disgrace
Head filled with
Haze as fine as lace
Where is this place?
On long nights I trace
Your two lonely eyes
And quivering lips, me
Hello, me, I am you
You trace my quivering eyes
And lonely lips
On long dark evenings
Where blankets trap you
To the asylum of your midnight room
Black so thoughts light up,
My soft thoughts running

   down

waves breaking on the
rocks,
flowing away,
far, far away
where the birds
weave like gold rivers into the night.