I live in a world of pre decided.
I have already been studied
my future is guided
I enter a world of people who have
graphed my thoughts.
A world where the new generation
is just a producers figmentation
A baneful balance of
who they were
and who we are to be.
How do I compete with a list of facts
that determine my personality?
The dystopian novelty is not lost on me.
But I will not concede
I do not have to be what they need
I am free to build a symphony of options
and no matter what your webpage says
"I do not live in a world of pre decided"

-Raen

For some they might be brave,
The ones whose poetry is incomplete,
Without the necessary F-words.

But for me such poets are not poets,
They are the lost souls bent on it,
Abusing the readers no soul they save.

Sans any rhyme scheme or structure,
Do they not aimlessly scribble,
I wonder if they learnt F-words in vivo.

[You can hear the air moving the 
 l e a v e s  of the    
p     a  l    m          t      r  e  e     s.
Last rays of sun and it’s June 3]

    
We walk on a  white-washed street and
Forget Me Not flowers on the fences screaming this is your new world.
You are that world, your eyes are Portofino in the middle of a neighborhood of coins.

We are walking and you stop because you look at a window of someone, while I was (I was) fixing the shouts of light on your temple, living the new world.

[All my cracks filled with water]

It’s warm pleasant, we walk, seeing life taking and not just wishing,

-^^^-
   we have excelled    
in the plastic world.

I stood by the **^use with the most beautiful garden, I touched bird in paradise and you say that it’s [our garden]