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The legacy of humanity hangs precariously
Upon their own blinded whims of fortune –
While faith is seasoned by the labour invested,
In the banquet of faith’s supplication.

Yet instead of harmonious voices, their frictional
Howls intertwine as a dog chasing after cars–
Those parked must seem a feast to the naïve,
Whose journey is dictated by the drive of others –

So simple-minded, solely to blend in with the crowd,
As indeed, wealth wields power - it challenges
Every muscle and very sentiment.

This love affair I was yet to find,

hopelessly drunk and going in blind

In a garden where red flags do love to sway,  
Our pink eyes instead see beauty, but not the fray.  
Though the mix of colour are rose’s gleam,  
The thorns are hidden in a deeper scheme,  
And the sharpness can lead two hearts astray.

Stick my face in your neck
I started to smell you in my shampoo
I shower because the water running
Down my waist is just as scalding
As your fingers digging into me

I run my fingers through my hair
Wishing the strands were yours instead
Your cheeks aren’t mine to kiss anymore
I feel your touch in the blanket I bought for us
I sleep naked in winter as if
I’m showing you every part of myself

You wouldn’t understand it in words
I would know you blind
I would know you through smell and touch
Through the taste of your neck under my mouth
Through the sound of your laugh, even if
It’s just the sound of breath through your nose

I see cloak of winter
wrapped in foggs of our sighs,
in between hopes,
in between lies,
out of warmth,
out of cries.

Fortune tells winter-
Tomorrow if  I
wishfully might die,
winter is cold, winter is blind.

deaf eyes, blind ears, pens down!

two of my English Teachers,
from high school and college
from way way back when,
i requested, critiqued my poems,
cause they could, ex-teachers...et al

They said:
Your emails are too short,
your poems are too long,
we recommend that your
quit this, do what we say:

pens down!

Your poems are travelogues
to places in your mind, we’ve
got no interest in visiting, Egypt
and Exile, cemeteries in a privy,
time to get a new travel agency!!!

Your imagery, ars obscura to us,
everyone but you, despite too many
copious notes, which proves our point,
you need to
smile more and write less.

Just because you’ve got creases,
lines all across your face, doesn’t
mean any wisdom came with them,
nor did you listen in our classes,
we suggest, resolutely, give it a rest.

all the best, & do  not ask again

To see is to lie,
I’ve Closed my eyes
To truthful cries they tell.
No one to trust,
Deaf ears save rust,
In darkness, lone I fell.
To hell I’m cast,
I’m falling fast,
I feel awfully cold.
Suddenly, limbs,
They wrap my chest
It’s from they I wish to hold.
Their arms of warmth,
Are arms to trust,
At least, that’s what I’m told.
At least, that’s what I’m told.