What is a poet if not a victim?
For he seems to be the only exception to a world of goodness.
Oh, what better way to depict him, than his own victimization?
What is a poet if not a child?
Granted, some are aged, but they all whine.
What is a poet if not broken?
He does mention his glass shards on the frequent.
Do keep in mind that he will never be doing fine.
What is a poet if not psychotic?
For him and all his kind appear to be mad.
What is a poet if not sad?
Spoiled minds of the depressed kind truly are poetic.
What is a poet if not contradictive?
For him, it's quite addictive.
What is a poet if not guilty?
For he may not always have the ability to plea innocent and play the victim.
What is a poet if not old?
Granted, some are young, but they're all wise.
What is a poet if not whole?
He is full of courage, he is bold.
So tell me, how is he not whole?
What is a poet if not sane?
Sure, he may be vain and a little odd, but he does write with utter sanity.
What is a poet if not glad?
He writes of love and purple lips.
Though his happiness may dip, he truly is a joyous soul.
What is a poet if not a fool?
He does accuse and misconstrue.
What is a poet if not a man, just like me and you?

There is no
such thing as
good or bad,
there are only...

Opinions

Just some moments of meditation,
will trigger our imaginations
and will give rise to an inspiration
that will give birth to an innovation
and will ultimately transform generations.

We can't have a revolution
Because we don't have strong resolutions.
We can't have a solution
Until we change our disposition
and we can only do that in the place of meditation.

We are faced with multiple instructions,
Challenged by absence of leaders with vision.
We are at the edge of fission.
The youths have to start offering contributions so our nation can reach it destination.

If when overwhelmed by confusion.
we eventually take the wrong decisions,
our children unborn will have to face derision
Because we surrendered to our Emotions
At every Junction where our discretion was supposed to function.

The moon kisses the sea,
Darkness swallow the last rays of moonlight.
The horizons laugh heartily,
As it watches the romance of the seas with the moon.

The rainbow rising from the ocean makes the cloud ecstatic.
The nile sparkled under the ever watching eyes of the sun,
The earth is engulfed with fantasies that only the blind can see.

The rain cuddled me with it's cold droplets,
My head feels the painful pleasure of memories flight.
I struggle with the grasp of internal strikes assured by the doctor they would soon take a nuptial flight.

Time runs with a speed that empties the oceans.
Time's depth is infinte i said feebly as age steadily ate up my boyish vigour.
I can't walk foward without taking flowers from memories lane.

When the light of our youth is extinguished by the rivers of time,
And our hair is painted white by nature's design.
Let the cloud from the evaporation of our memories today,
Rain on us affection and care in those lonely days.