When the words
"I am a poet"
escapes from my lips,
people claim how full
of emotions I must be.

They seem to be shocked,
when they get to read me,
my poetry, my work,
how little emotional I am.

I am a poet,
because once upon a time
I chose to write
instead of dying.

Only when I let my thoughts be free,
I allow myself to feel,
and only when I write
I get to know some version of me.

Tallow

The candle and I bear witness
to the long, lone, and restless night.
With a match, we bring ourselves to light
brilliant reminders of finer days past.

We complement each other in our fading vigilance,
twisting, smoldering, struggling till fall,
exhausted core, flattened,
or nothing at all.

Used, they saw the one true answer,
and so it was the only light.
No will, no arms with which to fight,
no rival to the endless stars
a sky that taught the world to dance.
Symbols of hope and knowledge
never brought into this world by chance.


We flicker and hiss and claim our right.
Wax sealed the deed and blinded our sight.

Born to burn and ever so fast.
Brilliant reminders of finer days past,
wrought for one purpose, yet not to last.
Illuminations made, and shadows cast.

We sputter and waver,
gutter and wane,
flee before storms, slip from the reins.
Yet from us, the lights still glow,
revealing the truths the Greats longed to know.

Here but once, and once alone.
Is it just once, and all from a spark?
Our essence is yearning
not Dawn, nor the Dark.

There’s a shadow in the sand
That refuses to follow my feet
They’ll kick the grains and dust away
But also refuse to eat
My little shadow claims they’ll be fine
And refuse any hand of help
They promise not to run too far
Or at least too far to be felt
They’ve been near my side
They’ll dance and they’ll play
Even if not close
But one day I’ll wake
And my little shadow in the sand
Will have been washed up in the waves

No sweet tooth have I
A sharp edge to my tongue.
The bitter keen North wind
Is bite-strong and savoured.
Winter storms soothe
Cold salve on the heartsore.
Life-water drunk deep
Is all peat smoke and pyres.

Grief,
The shine of eyes must be brief.

We went to a gate,
Seeing all of it fade.

How can i reach out a throne,
Feeling the chocks of a drawn
future Smiles that shall all be gone,
Will make it till dawn,
A feeling of a broken bone,
It’s a process of grown.

Fine by my side,
The wasted of tears cried,
I think we lied,
Wasn’t the easiest of a ride.

Do you feel
tears?
Moisturising the
gears?
Downfalls of
peers?
Different voices of
cheers?

In falls
Felt like waterfalls,
Little voices of crawls,
The movement of dolls,
Down beside the shores.

Happiness of fake,
Doing the take
Of a heart that never break.

You weren’t one of a kind,
Not even hard to find.

That’s a shiny blade,
What a bad trait

To stab from behind,
A person wanted to grind,
What makes mistakes light ‘n’ giant?

The morals of a soul,
carrying missiles that’s short ‘n’ tall,
To throw while they fall.

Let’s make it hard to prone,
Scared of lightning with no tone.

Shattered in the smallest of pieces,
For whoever pleases.

Now it’s all done,
Reload your gun,
Let me escape’n’ run,
Say your goodbyes with fun,
It will forever be gone.

Miserable miserable
i was
I am
N
I would

The holding of tears
Eventually dropping like icebergs

Rocks rocks rocks
They sound like rocks
They feel like rocks
They hurt like rocks

How coldness n strength
Changed into warmth n weakness

I followed your light
Worshiped your bright
Through deep n pain
How can i stop the rain

I kept it inside
You threw it aside

We played hide and seek
But only i seek

They said for the sake of love
They said for the sake of redemption

I used to cross my battles
I used to sharpen my dagger  
Now I redeemed my soul
N covered my sword

Those were new
I barley knew

I thought i’m tough
But it was rough

Now we have no tears left
Will cry it blood
We won’t make it stop

This heart is rotten
Filled with brok’n
Kitting it string by string
Oh where did the melody of them go
Oh where did the red in them go

Our voices spoke for its own,
The butterflies must bring the stories of morrow ,
lower the grief bound of sorrow ,
wasn’t a will given of torn

Shocking to fly very briefly,
Portraits to remind us of what we borrow,
to our lives that makes sunshines of yarrow,
Whites and yellows with no hollow,
What a void gives to souls flying for needy

then must shine alone in the hardest leaves,
I wondered where i left messages in the middles of pages,
Behind all this words that been given with no stages,
I had it all when it comes to believes,

What can make you worried while i am here,
Resting my eyes for a while
I got reminded of a smile,
Not the noir of paints being vile,
Then i stare at the pictures of paintings longing for ancient Greece

Dear marron why did you leave them behind?
Space had no light but for the Sun,
Now you call them your sons,
Oh I forgot you were the colours of them when they never had insides,

Pardon my weakness of expressions,
I lost my mind under that tree,
Not knowing what on did i agree,
One more chance given of lessons,

In that tile of lords you’re the broad,
The highs has surrounded you,
The colours that given no chance to true,
Did you expect now to never be told?

I gave a loud noise of condolences,
I missed when we had fire mixes of dreams,
Why is it always shoulds of what then seems,
We finally had answers of long faded streams,
History of must all be teams,
I loved to fondly to care of schemes,
I apologise for the portraits with no added greens and gleams.