the little birds of the city
on the streets and in the parks
sing to their hatchlings
the secrets of the falcon
long, iron-like talons
her souless, malicious eyes
her way in the sky,
diving within the sun,
to prey on one of us at a time

The dusty lobes of your eyes,
Dark news of a king's wellness they carry
To the masses,
On raven wings of a light tongue

Broken, the spirits of her citizens,
Surrounded by enemies of blades and chariots,
Camping under the hollow moon

And before dawn,
Shall they throw rocks of flames,
To the sky walls of this city,
Commencing, the day between jaws of desolation

Mothers shall run,
Hidden,  faces of their cherished daughters,
Behind loincloths of their ashes
And sons, besides their fathers,
The rising spirits of the dead

How easy it is to set fire on a pine forest?
So easy it is, to seize a city whose king lies,
Covered in wool and animal skin,
Fighting the inviting winter of an after world

The place where time defines no history
But an abyss of oblivion
A throne without a heir,
And a name,  to vanish like smoke

From smoke of random thoughts,
The world as it should be
Burning, a fire of invention

The pen wets the paper,
Smudges of a dark ink,
The calligraphic mastery of art

Following strokes of fine brushes,
On stretched surfaces of white canvas
The coloured sunsets of oil pastels

This, the epitome of a dreamer
The long bars holding,
And glass walls reflecting the mountains a far

Searching within particles of ether
The knowledge of outgrowth
Sieved through the many minds over time

The shallow pool of pleasure
Florescent flowers of wicked deeds
stinking, the soul of a lost man

Covered in creams of perfumed oils,
Smelly clots of an afternoon sweat
Dyed, his shreds of the heart

He walks head high around a street corner,
Fine silk, white, the dusty toes of yesterday's journey,
Towards a secret brothel of his habituation

Left and right, a foolish eye
Dropping fifty cents for a second,
Behind tattered curtains in a down town

Onto his bare chest,
Shooting rays of the sun,
Through tiny holes of grass covering

His mind yells in the darkness,
But clouds of desire rain fast and loud
Screening perfectly, the screams of elation

Time after thirty seconds,
Eyes wide open to a beautiful family,
A cherished daughter and kind wife,

Sudden, calm, the storm of desire
Worthless, the art of slippery,
Through, the thin walls of disgrace

Lying before, the mirrors of regret
Shattered, pieces of a broken trust
And now, covered in this blanket of depression

The blades of betrayal cut deep,
Through the fabrics of the heart

A world never the same again
Contrastive, a true self revealed

The hypocritical roses of love,
Lying in these webs of deceit,

Lured by soft words of a smooth tongue
To be broken at the cliff of bliss

Now, fallen to the dark world of the unforgiving,
A vindictive soul garbed in tatters of trust

The past defines not my present,
Even though its shadow,
Dark like a moonless night,
Tries endlessly to devour my illuminated soul

But rather, like the stars,
My honest deeds shine bright now,
That even in the wake of my sorrows,
I look back,

now and tomorrow,
At the man I was,
The man I am now,
The man I want to become,

And will, God be my guide,
Surely be...

We were grains of rice in a sack,
By a hand we were pulled out,
Cast upon the earth,
That we may bear more grains

And now, we grow differently,
On soft soils and hard rocks,
During warm days and cold nights
A dawning harvest we wait