Just like rain drops
my tears fall
watering seeds sown
from my past.
Before too long
they will flower
into wonderful opportunities,
stunning all those who see,
never knowing the damaged roots that lay underneath.
For you see the colourful bloom reached for the sun,
Illuminating the world in a sea of colour,
ready to take on life's next adventure.
Just like rain drops
my tears fell
watering seeds sown
ready to bloom into wonderment.
It's a similitude quite like none other I have composed...
I was like a bird, upon which back there is a burden which limits it's every movement and pull it down everytime it try to take off, yet unable to relieve itself of the burden cause he feared the outcome of laying off such a burden.. It was a Burden of quintessence to him, for it might make or unmake, destroy or bind the very home it cherished, adored and not ready to give it up for anything not even this burden, but the moment, though it required much audacity needed for a forceful abduction of ..."Donald Trump. From the White House".. he choose the option, to let down the burden.. And now with the God given broad wings and the much enthusiasm from the outcome of the relief, it will take a flight like never before, so high it will put all beholders in wonderment..
Relief, enthusiasm, burden.
In a realm of two moons and three suns not
afraid to be besieged by everlasting brightness,
where everyone speaks from their heart spires
and devils and scorpions cavort with sprites,
magic coexisted with every day miracles.
People would cross on invisible bridges
as easily as Jesus walking on water,
on their way to their great soul’s quest.
Now as tablets led to handwriting and
then to thousands of computer fonts,
where seeking adventure becomes
short code for finding death and despair,
where sprites now dine on pixie sticks
and fairies no longer spread their dust,
where those who believe in magic are greatly
outnumbered by those who don’t,
where everyone’s top half exists
with their bottom self wandering about
and never finding each other,
where wizardry is replaced with technology-
the common light bulb and automobile-
is when wonderment gets consigned to the
bottomless pit of foolishness.
Then magic waits in hidden castles,
patient not for those who have it
and don’t see it, but those who need
it the most and know that it reveals
the truth behind the disguises,
waiting for that old broken stead
to reveal that its Pegasus
and that spell they chanted
to lead them back home to
the magic of their parent’s’ embrace.
Life is unfair, brutality is around the air
I always wonder how can God let this happen around me, life is just so unfair
God just lets this happen to others around me and the world. Why am I so sad, people will ask, don’t they see or even feel sympathetic towards the people who have to endure a lot of brutality
Just a short New Year's Wish
Raise a glass and toast the year
Think back now and debate
Another week and it's dusted and done
Goodbye to old two oh one eight
Regardless how it started
And what happened through the year
Celebrate that you're here at the end
And raise a nice cold glass of beer
The Mayans missed about the end of life
And now we've another year to go
A new adventure that will be twelve months long
What it brings, I'm sure that no one knows
So, raise a glass to the end of another long year
And get set to step out once again
I wish you could all have the best year of all
and then multiply all that by ten
Two Oh One Nine could be a year of wonderment
A year that all your dreams come true
It's not predetermined or up in the stars
What you get is all now up to you
So, raise a glass and celebrate that you're still here
And start the New Year off with a smile
A toast to the past and one to what's to come
And let's make it the best year by a mile
And in this morning
that I be drawn to the
was a pleasant
albeit utter surprise
To see -- I did!
Across the way
beyond the oak
between the frost
and misty cloak
who flittered by!
The grand vision
-- crystal snow
against noble color
such a butterfly!
Heaven, can't you get enough?
Marble orchards dedicated to
your sustenance. Your creation.
Love and mourning meant to be enough.
When do you have your fill?
Of course, you're abstract.
Not gluttonous; you haven't
the odd ends of humanity.
You stretch and warp and fill to a non-brim.
That is comfort to some others.
Thank you for getting us to where we are now.
To feed our narcissism in washing our hands of you.
Who created whom?
Which came first, the despair or the divine?
our place in the world is everything but certain
"How my mind always needs to wander,
Looking for a new and grander view,
Having to quench my thirst with the worlds passions,
I turn to nature to light my creativity,
Yet, you have a spark that makes it catch as well,
You can make me ponder,
All the worlds endless wonder.
Its you that always seems to amaze,
And you that turns my heart ablaze."
Take my fetus and go
Through and through the mighty seas,
Cleft of stubborn knocks and the bayonets
Rocking through and through the eves. Whose pirouettes and epilepsy crooked, Asunder, blessing the attenuated biology of Say, a field mouse or the hummingbird. What nuisance it transcends itself into. How It has marred even the plight to lock oneself In that windowless box of time. The Atemporal box featuring those curious amaranthine engravings about its sides, upon its top. Though the blood may not spill from side to side, and while the nellypot may collywaddle, there is an immense sincerity akin, fused afore to the intimacy of an authenticated orphic boketto.
After the newness of this new perspective
Clears like a fog in the mountain pass
What will you want then?
Soon after the end of this or that?
Where will you stand?
And have you since realized the value stored within?
So much so that it might make you want to go back?
Just passing through?