On a blazing day
with brand new thought
But found that
the heart which was like an flying bird
which used to travel without tickets
and used to think whatever it needed
but now ...
it was blank
it didn't go anywhere

it didn't think anything
it was blank


Don't know why
Don't know what


I walked there and here
towards the stoop
in one way I was alone and behind
from the world
in another way I was along and infront
of the world

I took a second
To open and close my eyes
the heart which was blot out
as a  new balloon
was now blown
and filled
with new ideas and thoughts
  

At times a second can give a second chance

We were two halves
trying to fit
our pieces
together.

We took away
fragments of
ourselves
apart,
little by little.

Not knowing
we were already
slicing chunks
off of each other
becoming someone
we no longer
recognize.

It was then
we realized,
no matter
how much
effort we put,
how much
we stripped off,
we couldn't force
the pieces to fit.

You and I,
we weren't right
but
at least
we tried.

two lines
is not a poem
its two lines
it has no substance
no structure
its a thought
someone caught
is it noteworthy
not in the least
but the person
who writes without
themselves
there not present
here in the moment
of all the people who do such
who think it only takes that much
should give your head a wobble
it's just a load of cobble  
the two lines are just that
like a load of tatt
truly
poetry comes from a calling
a memory
a feeling
is nothing dust blowing in the breeze
you make a mockery of the art
like you just would ****
all over your page
not bleed at any stage
is it because your simply
not smart enough
to have a worthy entry
dig deeper into your soul
if you lack the talent
of this simple art
pray tell
are you worth more than
a **** ?
if you throw art away
thinking you can walk away
then i have this to say
your not an artist
your stuck in self pity
look in the mirror and think
where did you go
or did you just blink
those two lines
bug me more than
any times
i've seen anything else
are your not incapable
or simply not know how
i think you just don't give
the art the respect it so needs
look at yourself
a poem
is not two lines
a thought
a passing
a nothing
this is not your diary
find somewhere else to share
because i for one care
you lay the art bare
more effort should be found
if your words are to be sound.

Four helping hands
Its two for two
The third to last
Is feeling blue

Let go, let go
Can't hold no more
Let go, let go
Now three not four

Three helping hands
Now all for one
The third to last
He's time is done