I need a place to hide myself in
a place of rainbows and orange set
a place of breeze and waves in background
a place for fingertips to scratch the sand

I need a place to hide my poems
a sacred eyelid to vide it through
into preserving facts and meanings
a place of wisdom,
no regret to

I need a place of narrow sunburns
a place of stripes of the cat scratch
a place of joy and tender feeling
a place like you when patience's left

a place of noise
a place of music
a place of heartbeat
and respect

I need a pace to hide myself on
but I’m afraid there’s no one left.

I have never shared my night with a guy
but I dreamt of it thousand of times
you by my side,holding me tight with love
baby,till then let us first grow up !

A past weighed heavy on my chest
I took my chance,
I watched it burn
Out here I can cleanse my hands from its ashes
Awaiting your arrival
Follow the stream until you find me
Tell the others you've gone to sea...

Unidentified monograms
we are floating through a machine-gun pterodactyl
that shoots lay-zer tiger gamma-ray photon blobs at a flying bag of nuts.

We ride on a an escalator accelerating toward the speed of sound
towards a symphony that shrinks in our synapses and breaks our bonds. Without words we wander towards a waxy floor
and slip or just trip on a trampled stumbling block of sand.

And I cry at the sight of a man who will probably die for the sake of his pride; who had lied, and cheated, and been mistreated for the sake his gains that caused him pains, but were vain and empty and deserve no sympathy. (for sure)

He will endure for the glory of the cure which will have no discrepancy, and will illuminate the enemy
when it comes within proximity
of the light of God,
which burns all flesh.

For patience is a virtue that the universe attains to, with billions of years gone passing in a flash now.
With breath and reason there will be a passing of this season by the times and dates marked down at the bottom of the page under sub-section be
after "I am" and "I was" and  "I shall"
and there won't be a televised broadcast.
There will simply be radio silence for those who are listening.
(Yes they are indeed still listening)
Towards a siphoning of nitrogen out of air into the ground
without sound but with space.
All to be brought back out again
out to spin again;
begin again.
(Better than the last time)

The evening is mine, and yet not.
A melody across the wall, born on the strings of a guitar
Is eating into my silence. Yes!

My violin waits.

Sometimes it takes a bit of silence, a pinch of patience;
To hear it out before you let it out.
It is music - alright - but it doesn't sing the notes my violin longs for.

The guitar breaks into arpeggios and a cascade of notes fill me up;
but the bass feels more like an unwanted knock on the doors of my ears -
An intrusion, A stabbing knife ripping through the canvas of silence.
I know! I know, it is a beautiful melody, but it is not mine -
I haven't felt my violin through the day and I long for my solitary rendezvous;
To hear my violin sing, nay, talk to me.

My violin waits.

How strange that I should ever cringe at music,
And yet, I am unable to contain the welling frustration -
A desire to drown whatever is coming piercing through the walls into my room
To decimate it till nothing of it remains - not a spec, not a whisper
Till all is Silent

My violin still waits.

I looked around
From left to right
Searching for you
In the sea of nameless people
because now I know
With our time apart
That I am ready
Ready to take a chance on you
I know that you've waited
For me to catch up
But now I'm here standing
waiting for you to turn around
I tap your shoulder
And then you look at me
And you realize our moment is here
You hold my hands
Pull me into your arms
Hugging me tight you whispered,
"I told you I'd wait for you"

Juliet,
Don't you sweat,
Your love will be here soon,
With a rocket to the moon.

Romeo,
Please don't take your time,
To make her wait,
Is such an awful crime.