Poetry has a way of hiding
Itself in a dried up riverbed.
Inspiration of nothingness.
Words at tongue’s tip,
Can’t quite grasp…
And then all of a sudden,
Words flow like the mighty Amazon
During the wettest season,
Tumbling over each other
In their rush to be writ upon the page.
Feast or famine,
All or nothing.

Match my ire dear liar
Preach of a demise so dire
Grieve my soul's innate desire
Speak of kindness, light the fire

Birthed sick since first cries
Turn the fury to the skies
Poison embedded through lullabies
Born to feed you with my cries

cruelty, the worst of the worst
and crueller yet.. its enjoyment.

darkness is never very far
behind the night just gone

Winter Solstice
the longest darkest night of all.

a day of drizzle and mist
-a comfort blanket-
snuggled in.

on the road of suffering-
this where we meet

at times to forget our pains
at times to empathize

sometimes our suffering gains new insight
sometimes, maybe often, we see others suffering so much more than ours.