I wonder if in years & years
after my demise
someone would read my written piece
& look up to the skies
& wonder how my life had  been
or where I am today
& keep my soul a memory
a million miles away.........

restricted behind the bars of reality
strangled by deafening ethics & rules
deprived of the freedom of choice,
to be what you want, when you wanted to.
To be the sovereign to my kingdom of thoughts,
the monarch to my souls enterprise
I feel my insouciant youth evanesce
a passionate mind being scandalized
-encaged in rage with the worlds deception
that independence comes with age & time
soon only to be racked with the revelation
that responsibility replaces what freedom aligns....

I love cryptic sentences
That make me seem profound
When sometimes I am clueless
to empty words all matched by sound.
My mind to me is ambiguous:
Is it brilliance or pretense?
For all I know my insight could be
- a load of great nonsense.
Intelligence or creativity?
Much too confused to judge
No interest in it's dichotamy
I'd rather have some fudge.
To me it's all insanity
for not everything requires definition.
The end comes faster than the answers
So, indulge in the nonsense that is written.
Our world's enigmatic afterall
This mysterious creation - holds our presence
All that matters could be what you enjoy
So what's life without some ~ Nonsense.

Another facing the screen
writing profanities
thinking insanity
stitching verses acrimonious
or playing pungent words-harmonious
fabricating delusive fantasies
in feelings of pure ecstasy
melancholy or malignity
forged in the bliss of minimalism
or the complex art of maximalism
inspiring poetic athleticism
pressing keys with blazing passion
in an 1880's typists fashion
or pondering by the window
creating a marvelous crescendo
evoking curiosity,
a poetic monstrosity
of thought provoking quality
for questioning our entity
or embracing the obvious,
in whimsical simplicity.
A poetical society
behind my pixelated screen
indulge in poetic impropriety
in Hellopoetry!

Your heart is as cold
as Alaska
your thoughts flow,
like river Nile.
Your mind is as lush
as the Amazon
& eyes reflect the soul
like the sea & the sky.
                     Yet, your heart is as cold
                      as Alaska.
But, when humanity seeps
into your frozen core
As if the Sun shone down
& scorched the ice
your heart would bloom
like the tulip fields
& the night, a coliseum
playing the Northern lights.

Isn't everything in life untitled?
no header for the chapter ahead
the plot remains an enigma until-
the ****** & the closure is dead.
Time flies like the pages of an open book
kept outside in the howling wind...
yet untitled remains the book of my life
till the ending words are inked in.

From an abyss of oblivion.
with no existence of a past.
My soul was dragged to a worldly place
& into a body I was cast.

From birth you piece of mobile meat
I've learned to call my own.
When really I have an incomplete-
identification of who you are.

Are you an anonymous delusion?
Or a master of deception?
Who was created in clandestine-
meant to be my feign depiction.

From the moment I came to this dimension
& till this journeys end
You carry a soul piqued with confusion
as your own & as a friend.

An enigma from the day we met
Your identity never gets clearer..
For everytime I glance at my reflection
A stranger stares back from the mirror.