As my fingers punches each letter
And vandalize the blank wall
Purging what's inside, at most all bitter
The lonely journey of the bliss less soul

Why? Of all emotions
At most I choose the time of my pain
To evaporated into the clouds
And turns the season into rain

I am looking for that colorful sign of hope
But sometimes I'm getting tired
Living my life on this endless loop
Misery always transpired

But why those blind aren't quitting life's game
Hopeful and thankful to the mighty Lord
By then my eyes shattered some tiny white grains
That touches the face of my keyboard


10/6/2015
Mysterious Aries

She change a lot
After a year, when we become one
I've always asked her, but
Repeatedly I've heard none

I knew she was hiding something
I've felt it in my bone
She refused to stop working
When I've said "woman's place should be at home"

My friends told me, to look into her eyes
"You are not looking good" they've said
Really our situation is not getting nice
She doesn't play well on our bed

To chop the ice
Might be I will find another mysterious elf
So I look into her eyes
And I saw my pity jealous self

10/08/2015
Mysterious Aries

With a pen to a paper,
Like a sword to a foe,
I write poetry,
And present it to the world,
Like a present with a bow.
Letting the words
fill my paper.
Watching them take flight
Like many birds
drifting across updrafts in the wind.
And I will send
Them like a "get well" card
To every person who needs a friend.
Poetry is a healing process.
A coping system
A cure
A medicine for those in need.
Poetry is a dream
In which you don't
Have to scream
Unless you want to.
A dream that you control,
A beam that you can hold,
A story yet untold,
Perfectly crafted jewel,
With scripture writ in gold.

Chocolate, nothing taste better than rich creamy chocolate.  Such a delight, brown chocolate skin woman how sweet you must be.  Such a savory treat, brown chocolate skin woman.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum

This is not a poem this is a thank you.
Thank you all for reading my poems and making me feel welcome.

Wearing a crown of fire and a robe of blood Hatred sits upon his throne of thorns and thinks on ******* Love.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum