Wandering past Thousand Oaks,
There mines eyes met many folks
And among them was an old man
Whose beard was as white as a Swan,
Whose voice, was as rough as of a Crow
Whose cinder-like eyes all exuded woe.

Hey old folk, hey old folk, hey old folk,
Unto him I called as he laid by the Oak.
Unto me of thy woe speak If thee can,
But softly replied he, "look, young man,
When in days to come old you grow
I pray of woe thee may never know.

For lest thou ever, the less you'll talk.
Not far off lies my child as still as a rock,
For a ******* came, shooting he began;
And my dear child away couldn't run
That now her coldness thrice as of snow
Hath immersed my poor soul in sorrow."

At this, no more could I talk nor walk,
But grew mute and motionless as a rock
When said he, "if we had not a single gun,
Perhaps dear life would truly be fun."
Then vanished he, leavin' me in sorrow
That thee, dear reader might never know.


©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Los Angeles, California, USA.
09th/Nov/2018.

We walked in with the snow
Carried on drifts
Talking to the ghosts of those
We had left behind.
The sun fought in contrast
To the biting air of  the frozen landscape.
Our breath visible proof of life
As we trod crystals underfoot.
Strange monuments marked our journey
Charred sculptures of wood
Dotted throughout the forest.
I searched for you
Halting the path of strangers
All to no avail.
We passed boulders of burial grounds
Heads bowed in silence
As we continued to follow the spirit paths
Of these haunted lands.
Walking towards the future
Where we only met our past.

His name was John
The boy living next to your door
The boy whom you've shared your toys with before
You were his only companion
For he was shy to show himself to others

You were the only one who knew him
From the rest of the children, Ella and Tim
Every time you tell stories about John
They only shook their heads, for they've never seen one

You wonder why he hides from others
Why he doesn't want to be recognized
For he said maybe you'll be apart
And it would break his heart

In the middle of the cold nights
While everybody soundly slept, you played
At the old fountain, at the park or the stained swing
While telling you many things

Of his Mama and Papa, their great mansion
Their hacienda of a hundred hectares
Of this farmer who took his Mama away
And left his Papa crying in vain

But there was something about John you cannot explain
Why does he have a wounded head and a suit full of blood stains?
He will just nod and wink an eye
Now, I bet you know the reason why.

A voice so deep,
It sounds like it was always there,
And yet so quiet,
It's almost hard to hear,
The light in the darkest nights,
And the shield that protects me,
When my burden is too hard to bear,
My lord is with me
Everywhere

Run the bow across the strings,
and play a tune.

Play my soundtrack.

Play it soft yet sharp
and wrenching.

Play it in the background.
Let the notes run in conflict,
depict agitation and foster
an increasing sense of foreboding.



Because I lay still this night
in perfect disharmony.

You are an Over comer, even when you may not feel like one.
You are an Over comer even when everything seems stack against you.
You are an Over comer whom shall not quit till Christ has use you .
To Overcome and reveal our Lord to the world how powerful he is.
For to the world it takes great strength to overcome anything here.
And They enjoy the addictions way too much than to overcome them.
But a Child of God on the other hand wants to become a over comer.
I guess sometimes when lost people lives become unmanageable here.
That they too seek to become over-comers but most of them enjoy their sin .
Way too much to overcome the sin,. but through Christ they can overcome it.
All that you have to do is lay your life in his hands and trust in him now.
That He has a much bigger and better plan for you and your life here now.