A poetic
password feels
right today
as she
drew lines
parallel with
her cadence
that logic
shorten arc
of real
flatulent her
desire now
circumcise blind
interaction to
dissect lateness
but to
ensure righteous.

Do you remember that night?
The night you died?
You ran to the sea
Almost unconscious.

Your body craved to be exposed
To the cold winter air.
You could almost hear
As your bones were trembling
Underneath your dry frosty skin.
The waves were calling you,
Beckoning you towards your future.
They stole your future.

As you were embraced by the water,
Your head was already filled
With nothing
But dread.
You almost fought for survival.

Submerged underneath,
The water was singing your name.
And you were dancing to the melody
That had you drowning.
And you were willing
To give it your last drop of air.

Your body
Was not yours to control.
It was already consumed
By the Sirens of the sea.
And your purple lips
Were singing
In sync with the Water Nymphs’ song.

And you were enjoying every second of it
For you have had enough
Of everything going wrong.

Your attempts
To go above water
Were more than plain hopeless,
For you had already soled your rightful place
In the world of the living.

Your skin was not yours anymore.
It was hardly even human flesh,
For it was blue like the sea.
You almost looked like a Nymph yourself.

Your teeth cracked
To the exposure of the winter air.
You were not welcomed above anymore,
You were to be endlessly in water.

Your whole naked body
Was chained
With invisible shackles,
Pulling you down,
Showing you mercilessly
Where you were now belonging.

Last attempt.
And the bottom cried your name,
Melting your fragile
Naked young body
In the icy depths.

Do you remember that night?
The night you died?
You ran to the sea
Almost alive.

And you seem to be pleased
With how the waves play
With your unsteady corps.

You seem fine
With the way they spin you around
Until you can’t understand anymore
Where is up
And where is down.

You don’t seem bothered
By the way the water
Mashes your head in the rocks.

You seem okay
With the sea draining your blood.

And you don’t seem to care
How the cold winter water
Takes your empty life.

Simply
You reached to Heaven.
And it reached to you.

You were endlessly searching
For something
More Than This.
And that consumed you.

by David Patrick Mowers


Been together a long, long time,
your heart and hand held close to mine,
but after fourteen years,
and you know some thousand tears...

I don't wear my heart on my sleeve anymore.

Had some problems in our life...
times I weren't your Man, times you weren't my Wife,
..but after Fourteen Years,
and you know some thousand tears..

I don't wear my heart on my sleeve anymore.

Oh no more..

No, no, no-o....no more-or

Still have to think about,
all the things we couldn't talk out....
..but I don't wear my heart on my sleeve anymore...

Oh I know I don't wear my heart on my sleeve anymore.

Now the end is finally come,
new things have now begun,
funny, I still think of you,
...and all the things that we've been through,

But I don't wear my heart on my sleeve anymore.

No, no I don't wear my heart on my sleeve anymore.

I can't wear my heart on my sleeve anymore,
no more...
...I don't wear it no more,

I don't wear it!

I don't wear it no more....

Today is just a day, & tomorrow's a new day!
Here in this moment, just enjoy it. Enjoy each day for what
It is! Enjoy this life for the little moments.
Show everyone kindness and you'll get it back.

Care, for those around you! We all go through
It & we need to be there for each other.
Together we can get through it.
Y**esterday was just a day.

I'll raise a pint of Guinness,

There's little else to say,

Let's drink, dance and be merry,

On this St Patrick's Day.

Some micro poems about antiheroes.


I give my best friends black eyes,
I wont lye,
Some of it's their blood,
Some of it's mine,
But I cant talk about the first rule.

Tick tok,
Whirring cogs and grinding gears,
Going after low hanging fruit,
While we're,
Singing in the rain.

Returning video tapes,
Often leads to Huey Lewis and the news,
Raincoat, reservation, rat, rage,
I escape through blood lust and *******,
But this is not an exit.

Hey! I know you! You are created in God’s image, made in heaven, assembled on Earth, tagged ‘Bright future’. All your life you have strangled it may be just by the way you wrecklessly live your life as a young person. And Right now, you could even be fighting what you’ve called a bad past. Your parents, you feel were not your best expectation. They did not give you the best body or figure. Why was I not born in Rwakitura? You ask sometimes!! Your friends cannot understand you because you don’t seem to understand yourself either. You wish you could do many things, participate in many activities but you fear that public eye. “What will they think? What if I fail?” You keep turning your head to see if someone is pointing at you. You fear people may be talking behind your back. You have fears you cannot face. You have a dream but can’t explain why everyone else gets the opportunity except you. You feel none cares, no one bothers. Even those who dare may be up to personal interests. You have a small book where you have written your earthly troubles. It is tucked away under your bed. You feel lonely even when you’re in a crowd. You have cried so many times, so many tears. Your heart is almost in pieces. 'A certain man named Zacchaeus was in your association. It seemed like he was not on Jesus’ programme that day. He was rich on the outside but yet empty on the inside. You, like him don’t seem to enjoy Jesus the way others do because of some shortness. Your opportunities have been hiding right behind your limitations. Zacchaeus ran ahead of the rest and clambered up a sycamore tree. There Jesus invited him to climb down, for that night he would be his guest. Probably you have been laboring so hard to attract Jesus’ attention, week after week with little or no hope. Yet your moment of heavenly visitation came many years ago at Calvary’s cross. He that came to seek and save the lost is already smiling in your direction, inviting you to alight from yourself self pity, your in-built guilt, doubst, past disappointments and whatever else it might be, so you can allow the great physician give rest to your troubled soul;
Young man, you are handsome. Young Lady, you are beautiful and gorgeous. Therefore may the fruit of your doings be excellent and comely for all who see you.May you be as a beautiful tree whose fruit is sweet and whose leaf does not fade. A garden well watered and tended.May you be established above challenges & temptations, to be a Living epistle, being read every day and may many consult at your feet-in earnest desire to know the secret of how you have overcome. Today is here again. The opportunity is now.