^         ^
       My kitty
        cat's an                                        
           imp
       ra cti cal                            
    purrrrrrfect
  little dainty fat                    
    little lady cat                                                         .
       who uses                                                                  s
         her litter box while wearing her white sock
                                     

“hey.. yes, trying to get some things updated around here… now... so sorry for the outage! but things should be tip top now.. still ironing out a few kinks though
Regards”

With the first sign of rebirth
Came the gift of time, extended
In its renewal and revival, further
Offering the restoration of friendly relations
All done as an act of reconciliation between progress
As well as forgiveness asked of our mothers, everyday
Within such gifts intended for the common crowd
It is at the stroke of the halcyon hour
That we forget our sorrows and crumble like bricks
What is of this sad ending that we talk of, intentionally
That plagues the essence of the mind which is white as snow and trembling
Only cloudy days can show us the purity of ice
When the clouds do subside, the sweetness that preside
All talk is forced into stony silence under the dark night
Through the mad-sort of palace of time
Where there is a time to withdraw into the study of history
Ashes to ashes as well as fire to fire
Dwelling in a cold curlicle of a silent galvanized gate at a cemetery
Behind a rose garden, where the woodpeckers beak at the windowpane
Rusted beyond recognition broken into windy submission
Such things are built for no purpose and no future promise
Only to sustain posterity and labour
Not to make use of Earthly resources
An old man still waits for the rain
Saying that he is hiding behind the arras of an isolated house
Where the sepulchre is hidden under a rock tattered by zephyr
A string of creeper prostrate themselves, whimpering
That ostensibly grow, under the shadow of a thatched roof
Only to never be seen again in daylight
Of rebirth and redemption
Such is the creeper in the daylight
That lives in utter recluse and retreat

You came again
With his shroud
Your hunger and pain
I could see and love
In his mouth
Asking me to
Love those eyes and face
You offered a tulip, with a bow
After you lift your countenance
We walk hand in hand, ashore

BLACK KETTLE

I am a black kettle
But inside of me is a colourless water
I sit on fire everyday
And they deny me of the dinning table

I am a black kettle
Albeit, people make me what I am
Yet, I wouldn't prefer to be in isolation
On the zenith of kukuruku's hill

I am a black kettle
Never judge me by my look
My dream and goal gives me the temporal colour
Inside of me is my natural color

I am a black kettle
But despite the litany of woes
I have a consolation
As long as there's an entity called washing and rinsing
I will always have my true nature retained.
     -'Bintan Ola
      ©2019

METABOLIC LOVE
Behold the strength in your weakness
Which is capable of giving vigour to my membrane
Chlorophyll in chloroplast makes the green plant blossom
You make the smile on my face radiant

Come, let's mix the right nucleotide sequence of our desired RNA
And build the sequence of our desired protein
So that the expression of our gene
Will be the desire of friends and relatives

Amidst thousands, you're the only one I chose
Your hotness could denature enzymes
There exist a thousand of competitive inhibitor
But by the words of my mouth;
None would fit to my active site

I want to fly on your wings to the horizon
Regardless of the barbaric thought of men
For I know;
All unwanted functional unit of life
Will die by apoptosis.
       -'Bintan Ola
       -martinsolabintan@yahoo.com

The murderer and the murdered

There is a crime scene
Down the market square, beside a canteen
What do we say of yards of yellow tape?
And hope these flung wrappers do not indicate ****?

Pandemonium, my subconscious mind listened
Roar and uproar, as van mirrors glistened
Hellena is the name of a little black girl who was shot
She fell to the ground as blood refused to clot

Hope the shot did not **** her thoughts and dreams
Like balloons, squandered down a vessel's beam
She is not the only one whose mind has been blown
Her family screamed; "are we alone?"

Who will make justice descend from heaven?
So fast, such as at the count of seven
Kendrick is the name of the merciless murderer
Looking for a green pasture? Better be a laborer

My lord, I am guilty of my offence
Sentenced to lifetime imprisonment despite advocate's defence
On the clinic bed, Hellena coughed to life
Consciousness regained. Her dreams and thoughts came back to life.

          -'Bintan Ola
          -Martinsolabintan@yahoo.com

So go ahead and tell me, child.
Would it all have been worthwhile
To tread upon Eliot's allusiory notion
Having bitten off the matter with a smile
Negating warnings, blinded by devotion?
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
During our days to ****** and create
Amnesic to past transgressions of a dying fall
Divulging the insidious question upon our plate?
Daring to disturb the song of the universe
Repeating the same indecisions and revisions
In which we must ultimately reverse?