Under the skies.
Looming is a web of lies.
Destroying all life.
For you and me it destroys our life.

Heading for more danger.
Putting leaders in anger.
There are always two sides of the story.
So which, if any is the real story?

Stuck on corporate greed.
Is this what any of us need.
Greed is taking it way too far.
Like, do I really need a fancy car?

Or, do I need something to get me to and then back again?
Instead we follow lies to spend and spend.
Cash can stick to your ribs.
While you can feed and take sips and sips.

Spend it on stuff we really need.
It is the truth I really bleed.
Though there is no more to believe.
Take this warning and take heed.

Greed is upon us.
Like were caught in a web with something poisonous.
One day I hope we see greed for what it really is.
It is just an obscene risk.

Fur coats, Malboro smokes and fancy labels,
Fabricated faces closed off, segregated, false.
Pretending to be these people, these cloned plastic dolls.

Dark lips, skeletal figures and decadent glances,
Small waists, tall bodies and negative spaces
With hearts going nowhere, only lipstick traces.

You like to talk about people, about insignificant things
Not birds, or mountains or the potential life brings.
But just remember this: you will never tower over a mountain or grow any wings

Eyeing on the night - its out.
Mirroring the colour of the Moon
every star flocks in the sky!

Just spare an eye - maybe the
missing sun keeping an eye out!
For it only fancies the billowy
sea in the black night.

I watch your eyes adjust to my moves. You smize as I dance on the floor. I embrace the flow of the melody. The music moves my love for you. Our eyes connect and we glow in the light above.

You are my one. The only one that I long for. It is not easy to allow these words to come out of my mouth. Knowing that you will hear what I am feeling.

My knee's buckle as you watch me groove. The choirs hits and I instantly entangle myself  in the nights ambiance. My love, how I love dancing in your view.

As far as I can see, elocution and declamation
Thee this and thou that
Whence and wheresoever
Isthmus and anemone
Vitriolic and Diatribe
Bloviate and aplomb

But feeling has no discrimination.
Rococo words are not needed
Simply put is just as good
Too much icing makes a cake too sweet.

Bon appetit

I don't write that kind of poetry
you know the type,
pretty flowing words that trickle down the page like a quaint little waterfall in a fancy garden
while daisies open themselves up with so much confidence
without any doubt

and I say something about myself without saying anything at all

the three dimensional poems that you could take a stroll through
and you can lay in the summer grass by the lake
you could get lost in the meaning

even though you're not so certain what the meaning is,
at least not for sure

no, I'm not so good at that

my words are more like...
running through the forest while it's dark and cold
because you want to get home and you're positive
you just heard something rustle in the dead leaves behind you

like telling your blaring warning signs to calm the **** down,
it's just an uneasy feeling

like telling the paranoiac to grow up and walk the **** pathway

it's shameful, annoying,
it's just some dumb feeling

no,
I don't write the sweet paintings kind of poem

I write my heart out into my notebook before I scribble it out and decide I had better not bother

my poems are regret-
regretting putting something good in my butchered understanding of art and words

every piece is the best I can do
and that's about it