I asked what he does for a living.
He said I can show you,
then he moonwalked half a mile.
He could be a great dancer,
but I think he was an astronaut.

Out walkin in the moon light, out away from the fire light.
Feelin kinda bored with life, wonder if there's more to life.
Thinkin if the time was right, how to play my cards just right.
It was a starry night, you should have seen the stars that night.
It was marvelous, as I stood there starved of breath.
It was hard to catch, but otherwise it was marvelous.

Recipe for making a ****
"The God of Unknown"

Ingredients:
× Half a dozen of personalities 
× A spoonful of Unknown questions 
× 2/3 of darkness from Svalbard
× A Jar full of pain from the rain
× A whole book of poetries called Unlove
× Freshly hand-picked Metaphors
× A pinch of verses dipped in curses 

Even before starting the recipe, it could intoxicate you, to be safe until the end be patience and forget you have a heart to love.

Procedure:

Heat the cast iron pan on high flames,
Pour the pain boil it until you see bubbles,
then drop one by one all the personalities stir it well on low flames,
an ebullient aroma will start to fill the room
Now add a spoonful of Unknown questions, Questions that have souls attached to them be careful they might jump over you.
Now take the book cut through the pages,
book of poetries in a zig-zag pattern,
like the wrist of a lover who wrote poetries to hate her but couldn't Unlove her,
Now turn the flames to high and add 2/3 of the darkness from Svalbard an Ingredient that keeps the balance of the entity, stir until everything has been mixed well
Take a pinch of verses dipped in curses toss the pan and sprinkle the magic portion, an Ingredient that makes ripple in the timeline of every multiverse to relive the moments,
Finally, Garnish with freshly hand-picked Metaphors only for the ones persistence for the worthiness.

Eureka 
Your, **** has been created.

©sarcasticbong

A poet is a bird with clipped wings,
Plummeting from the sky.

One who's dying words are not calculated,
Not woven,
Not cultivated
Rhymed
Rhythemed
Repeated
Recorded.

The words are pure.
Simple
Sound
Sung
Then silent.

They are only meant for the wind to hear.

That way the wind can
Whisper
Watch
Whistle
Warble

What if the winds rattling
Window pain

Is actually your loved ones
Last lullaby?

What if the weeping of the wind
Fosters fear former forgotten?

In her eyes
I was light
Filtered through brokenness

I was the calibrated afterthought
Calculated each night above the heavens
Peacefully laid to rest
By the Stars

I was the monster
That tore her clothes off
Her bleeding heart
On floor

She missed me
And I did not care
She wanted more
And still
I did not care

She pretended to
Love
She pretended to
Live
She was her eyes
You see

I'm paralyzed with thoughts,
my tongue tied in knots.
I'm hot from head to toe,
to be with you is all I know.
With all these feelings locked inside,
they can't be stopped I know I've tried.
You came as a surprise,
now it's love seen through my eyes.
Please tell me how you feel
let it be your heart I steal.

Grinning as I happened upon your smile
After all these years,
And you kissed my cheek