The collocation in relation .
The delineation of misplacement .
The inhabitants of Kismet , the third .

The depletion of mortality .
The marauder of consumption .
The lamentation of Raul , the bird .

The offing of defence .
The pardon too myriad .
The submission to Pentateuch , the word .

The agrarian underground war .
The capricious rule of super-cities .
The ebb of vulgarity is heard .

Songs are sung , the spell is cast .
You are young and mine at last .
The world will turn , you shall see .
The snow will burn and the free .

     Find the sun if you can .
   Will they know we exist
     Or will there be any
   To know at all ?  When we come back
     If we do leave at all .
   Will we cry and kiss the soil
     Or will they forbid us entrance ?
   If they do forbid our coming ,
     I fear they do know who we are
   And once again we'll seek a star ;
On which we'll place our weary flesh .
New time and space and skies afresh .

The hats are hung ; atomic blasts .
Where our young arise in flasks .
Our worlds will turn , you shall soon see .
We're sure to learn or we'll not be .

you may not know me
face to face,
but you and I have connected
heart to heart through words.

Our lives are woven together by
the tapestry of words,
and into a living breathing poetry.

you and I are no longer strangers,
but fellow poets and sojourners
on this journey of creation.

poems are
translations of your soul to the real world -
the echoes of something you once felt.

strong feelings and memories
often produce the most beautiful pieces of poetry.

no wonder we write so many love letters.

believe whatever you want to believe,
but as for me, I believe that love wins.
Always.

Shed no tear for the fear.
Ingnite the fire within.
  Dig the grave to hour near,
Deep route a timeglass grin.
  Now congure your error
And so fine is the beast!
  Grant it's act of terror  
Be with your final feast.

  Away with sanity.
The will is just to live,
  For liing vanity
Has only itself to give.
  The creatures of evil
Show their faces at last.
  They'll paint at your easel
A block from long past.

  They bring no quick demise.
They'll lessen self portrait.
  Scream not of 'hows' nor 'whys'.
Let your mind rush or wait.
  Senses perceive the pain,
Play you well or  just  fair,
  The reward in this game
Is a breath of more air.

  Panicked glance behind you.
Nightmares raise their dead
  Threatening to persue
Deep within your bed.
  You know fright has prevailed.
Whispers heard loud and clear,
  To tell you that you've failed.
You've lost your soul to the fear.