FLATTERY
What can flattery be but kind words full of vice
When you don't mean the words that appear sweet and nice?
You will be like a snake full of fatal contents,
but you dress your outlook with the smoothest outfits.

Your inside is a bog that boils with horrid blobs,
but you dress them with what would look like showy robes.
None can see in that mire that appears calm to all
fearful death dragging man to the depth of deep hell.

The harsh truth comes and goes like the gas of a drink.
It can cause fizzing sound, and for eyes a quick blink,
but you drink a cool gulp that saves you from the heat
as the truth saves you from deadly stab in the heart.

Fearful snakes, horrid mires lurk in words, but who knows
what you hide in your heart of sure death or deep ooze.
With soft voice, a low hiss, you make ears skip your threat
to bring man fearful death after most hedious fate.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

i **** at everything i tried working out
every effort seems worthless
every sleepless nights
           turned to memories in a dream
           turned to shadows, untamed
           turned to ashes, unseen

then there came the you
           who called perfect my every flaw
           who fearlessly catch insults they throw;
           on me who's defenses are low
           for i never tried to let them grow
           strong and sharpen the claw
           for i only kept them below
           the surface of who i am they know.

there came the you
          who brought sunlight
          i have believed untrue
          who melted the sadness
          i have held and can't undo

there came the you
          who love me so true
          i couldn't wish for anything
          but to be only with you

There is a person
outside of time

who created a world
that was sublime.

It was us who chose
to eat the fruit

that turned mankind
down a different route.

If we would listen,
he'll show us the way

and we will discover
it's best to obey.

i have tea. i suspect the morning is surrounding the world with a tiny cup of sunlight.
and there are no usual things. everything is unusual. everything.
i am here now… and i feel it. and i will never have a cage with a bird inside. i am not cruel.
i’m drinking tea.

i’m not bored. i’m just waiting. my eyes are never sure about the splendor. they suspect a spring
attached to tiny gears, die cut whirligigs and ethereal hands attending; deep underneath my gazing. and i am still tired… the shackles of entropy hold sway and i contend with easy wit in a fog of sparkles. it’s a sloooooow glorious. even with too much sugar in my tea, because sleepy.
you get out of bed to greet me.

it’s a good day.