I have found my self
In running a jungle of darkness and sorrow
In searching a beam of light
I have found a little girl standing alone
With no one but a shadow of herself falling on the ground
I have found my self
I have no greed of your wealth
No sorrow for losing everything
I am leaving your house
I have found my self
I have pieces of my broken heart
With my courage and ego
I can smile and walk
I have found my self
No  threats no excuse
I have best wishes for you
Your memories are shining stars
With my own courage, I can  walk
You are an old story
Written on one page of my heart
I will write other stories
On other pages of my heart
You are not my destination
My ego is my inspiration
I have to walk as the home is far
I have found my self

Life is a song
Emotions are its lyrics
Heart is rhythm
Audience is world
Duration is short
Sing the song as it deserves

Swimming in the sea
searching precious shining pearl
to light my dark life

I was a bird flying high
Saw a valley full of green
But the people living full of greed
Angry and having lust
Having no mercy or a quality best
Flying again reached a city
very glamour with running  cars
People were happy sitting in bars
But telling each other the secrets of wars
******* people causing ugly scars
They caught me in a dark cage
I lost my wings with  passing age

REMMBRANCE

There are shapes remebrance takes,
sometimes starlit sharpness, each spark
a scattered bit of self, sometimes the muddy
ground of grief.Remembrance, an imaginary book,
words of a separate world.

Often, there is travel through dark matter
to reach a breeze of willow leaves on water.
Perhaps a day with its own pastel shade
or a gentle night of ringing quietness,
a dove nested in the eaves of wind.

In dark and brightness, both anonymous,
nothing is sure but the narrow path
leading to a new now, guided by
the unseen force of soon.

The caterpillar walks alongside groovy stems; so what do you mean?
    the banjo plays on to rusty hymns; what is that supposed to mean?  the plainsong of those birds of a feather upends: excuse me, come again please?
   but nobody, no one;  ever… told you you had
to comprehend. Oh fam, you’re soo mean!
So you can take your suit just in case,
and I can take in the
rain and coat  my little dream. What, why? You don’t mind.  and I don’t mind metaphors
to explain lyrics across…  the bard. You’re speaking in riddles, Man! So what is Poetry
to me, if I can’t take
it’s license and play with my words, words you would discard, I call  deuces wild, yeah my friend. Nah, it’s not like that at all child. Yes it is. No it’s not. Yes it is. No it’s not! And that’s the way I feel y’all. I just think a thought and jot.

Jot it all down. Jot it all down. Jot alllllll DoWn… when I think a thought.

Grey skies
flying moor
storm in a teacup
gas cell 4
the clock hands are matchsticks
...
The letting go of everything
in hopes of trimming the airship
this seat is no longer taken
...
In love with a bad idea
the zeppelin and the magnetism
closing in beyond the minimum safe distance
...
Dim blue flame
a psalm of survival:
days and peoples and places
are transatlantic numbers
crawling from the wreckage
the clock hands are matchsticks