Taken aback largely by
coveted fate born of star-blind wishes,
have I riveting cause for concern
when I tilt my head to skies
unheard of or ne'r seen before?
against the risen ridges of my veins,
dawn cast shadows steeper than any
mountain range.
So I cry, "Out Sun!"
for its light burns the peeks more than
I could bear, and dries up
valley springs of youth hidden there.

It is so I've come to pray,
Sweet destiny, free from celestial rule,
bake my hubris, till my needs,
water down my ambitions until
between my rushing arteries buds
grand daffodil and tempest lilies.

This winter's first snow came tonight,
And it falls like moon feathers,
No wind to sharpen the edges,
A snow-globe pillow-fight,
Streetlights smudged,
Rockwell houses, tundra streets.
Known as the ****** snow,
No squirrel or footprints
On my porch steps;
I need re-fill my gas can.
I'll give it twenty more minutes.

Gently it pours
Like cotton on the skin,
Forming puddles therein,
And reflecting the lights it showers in.

Gently it spills
Veiling the hills
And wash away all the lethal ills;
To spare hopes and wills.

Gently it falls
Like little, cool, crystal *****
Melting onto the abundant furniture of this green halls
Along with waltzing winds it calls.

By Wardah
23rd November 2017 (6.18pm)

I have a slow leak of faith
In humanity.
I'm heartsick,
Funky, *****,
My soul is spewing chunks.
At first, it was only a slight rise in temperature,
Followed by a rash of diatribes,
Then hot and cold wars
That produced the shakes.
Our world could use cold compresses;
Polar ice-packs are symptomatic.
The ailment is hereditary.
Patient Zero is low on the tree,
With roots entangling us,
Like veins filled with bad blood,
Encircling the body politic.
We are the carriers,
The un-quarantined green monkeys
Swinging freely, infecting
With a disease that will not skip
A generation.

Ivy.
It grows everywhere.
It can be poisonous,
or harmless.
Either way,
it's ivy.

I want to be like ivy.
A part of nature,
never to die.
But what use is nature,
when it sits and lies?
When it has no purpose,
other than to survive.
Isn't that the same as humanity?

Ivy is like humanity.
It grows around whatever it latches onto.
It adapts to it's environment.
It can be used,
and even admired.
It can also be hated,
and even decimated.

Deep earthen roots, gold arrow-tips,
Sounding rush of green applause
Now, trees and bark stretch to
Higher lows of raptured skies.

Wide face of etched ranks and--
Here His marks tread and silence falls
Quite tenderly under winding timber,
Woodworks, Tree-rings, bound around
As clocks tick to celestial Grange's face.

His deeds show across baked-ancients
And those whose sun came creeping under
Horizontal terms and periods-- in lapses
when Time held his own--

On winding old branches with buds smelling
Young n' green n' poking free from yellow scars,
Time garnered his people, his children and dead,
housed them in ticks and tocks and surnames,
For Twilight's enamelled hubris to bathe them,
Wash them.

To set them in winding bark,
And brand them in Himself,
In Winding Tree-tocks.

In rock pools, tiny claws dual over colourful crowns
that were sent across the seas from the Gods.
The deadliest of gems sought for in crustacean kingdoms
like power.


Fish hide in bottles and swallow plastic shrimp,
while flotsam and jetsam decorate the shore;
toxic borders.


Albatross, guardian bird of the waters
we stopped looking up to you,
we stopped looking behind us to see if you were following
when we could fly higher, fly faster...
Jet power, metal wings, turbo engine.


Our good omens
Became measured.
Our superstitions
Became statistics.


I cry for all the canaries trapped in coal mines.
While we look for life on Mars
I feel dead on this ship,
but it's still floating, floating...

Ever felt the moment,
when your pseudo self dies,
and your conscience awakens.
When your minds opens wide,
collecting the present reality.

Forget the scheduled meeting,
forget the fight, the race,
forget the crippling inferiority,
and watch the world pass by.

You are a living being.
Savouring the grooving branches,
the bright stonepath,
the breeze teasing your hair,
whispering praises in your ears.

Nature indeed loves you.
She vowed to protect you
and nurture you to your best.

But her kids are now spoiled
with all that affection
they are greedy men and women
who can **** her for themselves.

One fine day,
just as the one you’re walking upon,
she would swallow us in her,
buried in her carcass.

And you realize,
there is much more than desires,
market and capitalism,
public image and rumors.

There is us, and nature,
the simple natural beings
who have a mission to breed earth
with love and positivity.

And here you are at last.
Mother was waiting for you
to get over the hangover.
You’re wide awake.