Poetry
Oh poetry
Seems you got
the best of me!

Read me
Oh read me
And a good little girl I'll be!

Write more
Oh write more
So addicted to my score

Oh boy
Dare I say
I've become a poetry *****!

I just got this empty feeling
I wanted to stand out by myself
I wanted to be the living proof of something
I just turned out to be the living proof
The living proof of insecurities

Oh my,oh my
How the bird flies high
Beautifully elegant
To all that pass by
In awestruck in daze
To all who wishes to fly

Oh my oh my

But the wolf down below
Howling in pity and wallowing sorrow
Gazing for something to borrow
But the road its on no one can follow

Oh my oh my
What a difference...

when in piles of tiny heaps
shapely mounds beneath our hands
seasoned stand on grainy shores
arduously may grasp the sands

wavy spikes of flapping sea
thrown to castles terror bound
are screaming yet so perfectly
tranquil as may silence sound

the grip of august imagery
while storms upon or crash its faith
dwells in floods of eddies lost
to empty fancies abdicate

laid in sea of solemn voices
do twilights flush in garb of light
narrated by swirling chords
shivering break apart tonight

albeit the ebbs of moments rife
drench may dreams of saline pain
shovel tides preserved in drops
slip through fingers, dissipate

venturous as lonesomeness
of scarlet night's insomnia
stubborn hunts the night's last star
in delusion finds panacea

the elixir of destiny
solace in carnal myths of dawn
and joys which heart incarcerates
in barren cages of a conch

Do you also wince at the seeds of a watermelon
crawling there inside your mouth?
Do you also feel the bile inside begin swelling?
No way now it won't come out.

I eat only the ripest from the market
yet am forced to spit out with haste.
All the maggots and vermin seem to target
just the fruit I yearn to taste.

Life is a malicious prankster
and whatever grows are her tools.
If you're handed lemons, don't thank her-
for the only ones who take it are fools.