I don’t run to poetry
To save my skin;
Quite on the contrary.

I conjure the humming bee
On the blue rosemary tree,
I followed as a carefree
Boy in the backyard,
Only 'cause I’m scared
Of the scarred face
Of metaphor.
© LazharBouazzi, January 24, 2017

It's not for the faint
Or the weak at heart
I'm not pointing fingers
But you know who you are

It can serve you for breakfast
Sunny side up
Spit you out by mid-morning
Then have you for lunch

It will fill you with doubt
Make you laugh, make you cry
This crazy mix of emotions
This thing we call life

Runs the highest of fever
While giving cold chills
Makes you a believer
As it lies through its gills

It can take you out early
Or keep you out late
Invite you to go fishing
Then use you as bait

It's a turn of the cards
It's a roll of the dice
It's a flip of the coin
This thing we call life

By Arcassin Burnham

Power of greed could consume and
Bring out the worst in you,
Putting down the hopes of people around you,
Terrifying the youngsters from their destinies
And destinations , mixed with fantasies and
Lust and occupation,
No law,
No code of conduct,
Just free spirits wandering in trees and places filled
With so much vegetation bringing forth communication
To nature and what it gave to us humans to survive
And let go all of the false information that we hear on
T.v,
Or is that just me?
I take my hat off to the -people that brought us into
This life,
To live and learn and love to be precise.

/

The sight,
The smell,
The sound,
The thought of you,
I put together pieces of this virtue,
Darkness follows and your head is so cold,
Love I swear to you is not a fluke,
And my love for you has finally grew,
In search of color ,
we just brightened up the hue,
Evil lives here,  
it's just something you never knew,
Finding ways to please it,
Only in a muse,
no matter what happens we have to maintain our
Youth.