there are still surprises

for you to be surprised

a way to pull you out

unexpected, from your mind

there are still surprises

coming for you, on their way

personalised, just for you

there are still surprises.

I don't seek your permission...
To write about the what, why and how.
It could be a haiku or come in the shape of a cow.

I don't need your approval...
When I don't sound the least bit poetic...
In my mismatched metaphors or ill-rhymed acrostic.

I'm not asking for your blessing...
When I pen down and put up what I think...
Be it in cloying cliches or in tear drenched ink.

I don't crave for your understanding...
When my 10 word poems weren't filtered through your poetic lens,
Or if my contributions in collaborations lack in sense.

I don't hope for your likes...
If my content does not tickle your fancy,
Or if my words just rubs you silly.

I mean no disrespect...
But don't be too quick to click on the 'comment' button.
Private messaging has been put there for a reason.

I don't mean to cramp your style...*
You're entitled to your own opinions of course...
But if you've got nothing good to say, please save it and shove it up yours.

I see you everyday, the quite girl a million miles away. Head in the clouds or in a book.
I find myself stuck to your hook. And as you pull me to the shore I feel myself sway away.
I'm under your spell. Is this heaven or is it hell?  Your a million miles away. Yet I see you everyday.
A shooting star I cannot catch, the flickering light of my last match.
I can't tell if this is a broken romance. I know you can feel it too. Will our vindication please come through.
I don't want to be the one to utter: I missed you.

Loved you like sunshine loves earth as it spins,
touched you as softly as shades feel your skin,
kissed you as much as seabirds grace the sea,
talked with you easier than the closest twins,
viewed you as a desert sees water beads,  
needed you as much as trees do their leaves,  
held you with care, as a nest keeps its egg,  
hugged you a lot, like a fruit does its seeds,  
thought of you as highly as sky can be,    
trusted you like birds have faith on the wind,
waited for you like gardens long for spring,  
yet you turned me into old memory.

I need to be
what you need me to be

I need to be
what I do not need to be

I

n
e
e
d

t
o

b
e

what
I
am
Not

In order to please you.
.
.
.

i breath in
and open my eyes
another orange day it'll be
the lines are too straight
the walls too *****
air too hot
surface too cold
all adds up to the orange that crawls beneath my skin
blue finally comes
at the sound of laughter
so rich and full
goldfish and m&m;'s
scattered among the table
hands warm on my knee
i shudder as the orange comes again
the lines too straight
i smell the hot air and the walls are too *****
chair cold as i sit
orange, orange, orange