A single moment
Spent in Your remembrance
Is more precious than
Those spent in whole life
O' my Lord!
As the remembrance can not be donated
---------------------

Late mornings or early nights
Internal struggles an eternal fight gripe when ever cradling life
A gift endowed upon is heavy
Handed stranded with opinions
The pen becomes a machete
Instead of jotting
turns paper into confetti
spilling my blood
on looken like spaghetti
expedient measures
the recipe warrants a recipient
of a John beard
ingredients inter-whine
you could smell it in the air
master sommelier  
An acquired taste took years
1 meal serves plenty
Being great takes time
It stole many!!!
it stole minds!!!
So many!!!
I gave it my all I'm so empty
Tapped reserves
what my soul lent me
If I was trying to impress you
Would you then befriend me?
If you was impressed?
Doubt it
So I Feel alone when its crowded
When I'm alone I'm crowded
With these thoughts surrounding
Hounded whicha what way
There's a certain price
you pay
for talent

Must we only dream
   of wise kings who know
that rivers must flow
   peacefully
so a woman can sing
   her children to sleep
and fathers not weep
   holding them
in grief too heartbroken
   to rage
at the violence men bring
    in this age
that should be long left
   behind us?

Once, I can't remember,
I was innocent but so full of pain
While one midsummer's eve
I did met the fair  Rose-red.

My old mother did not fancy,
she sobbed and wept all night long,
but my passion continued to spark
as I constantly whispered ,, Rose-red,,

So my home of wood I kindly fled,
no longer a roof to shelter my poor head,
but gladly I spent my youthful days
with the cheerful Rose-red.

In the morning,  song of nightingale
made her charming face to glow
while her strawberry lips sang
,, My love, see how so blissful is your Rose-red ,,

But alas, the cry of the violin was heard too soon,
as I peacefully am now sinking before the early tide
And from the Heavenly kingdom i do beseech
-Mercy, oh sweet mercy- for my Rose-red.

Now that the sun has set behind the far pines,
and only the stars accompany my deep mourning,
there is no one else by my side
to help me bury Rose-red.

My long black cloak was envied by the night
which sent me a gentle autumn breeze,
as I pressed my soiled hands upon the wooden coffin
and only whispered ,, Oh, my poor Rose-red ,,

And tonight within this cursed hour,
I too shall be sleeping above the cold stone,
for there is no tender lullaby than the roses that stirred
around the grave of my dearest Rose-red...

".                          If
                         your
                 feeling really
            sad  let  your  tears
          go  it  will  ­make  you
          feel  so  much  better
           to open up the flood
              gates and just let
                    them flow

Here the horse munches the grass
little knowing the trots of yore
for time when lays the bricks with curse
unhinges the strongest door.

Here the horse is tethered to feed
little hearing the neighs of past
for time when crumbles sows a seed
grows new order from soil of dust.

Here the horse lazes in sun
little seeing the shadow's growth
for time when ends a period's run
buries in the walls a lover's oath.

Here the horse walks in a round
little feeling the earth's spin
for time when shrinks the highest to ground
kingdoms fall in heaps of ruin.

There are some who walk      calmly through darkness
because they know how      to kindle a light.