Whose mind shall rest now
Whence the body is to bow
A lifelong ballad it has become
Where to go? Where to have some
The sweet meeting juicy wine
Of your charms and of mine
Of hopes I feel warmth of love
Of memories of pleasure's dove
Ah! You silly heart stop whinnying
The pain has to go, to be winning
I daresay! Let the cute rhymes go on
Let the water flow, let it melt so on
For once,I saw that fairy's new dream
The smile for me, hiding it may seem
What's this and well why it's to mend
Oh God! Why our matter doesn't end?

There’s a parachute stitched into my eyes— soft silk holding
nothing, as I watch myself freefalling into an empty space
The ringing words of love still call, like fading prayers –
as the voices of lovers trying to reconnect.

But I never was good at playing my heart. But aren’t you
expecting me to stay in character? To wear the lines you
wrote for me, in the means of keeping up this fantasy of love.
My smiles are scripted; as everyone else is helping to create
such a picture frame. The world helps paint our picture from
all the wildest of conversations; but the more they run out of
your mouth, the more they seem to taste so tame.

These tired eyes have searched in your eyes for a reflection
I can truly bend– so is the baggage claim of my baggy eyes;
visioning our broken pieces coming together to hopefully
mend.

I was your background character, your silent NPC in a game
you never knew I played, the first time. But when I stopped
watching, when I stopped turning toward you with secret
obsession – you started to feel the crush of my own crush.
Now you chase the echo of something that once held you
true—that hidden crush, that tender view, searching. But love,
my dear, truly YOU, should see how love is so **** blind.

The day she realizes you were the one,
You shouldn't be there.
You shouldn't be
You shall be gone in the wind.
You shall touch the sun, for it will caress you and eat you write there
It will not mold your soul into a hideous one
The way she did.
The way she forged you to be a frivolous man
And she still walks as a cynical
All your love was compassion, content and rhythm
All that left is a faded spectrum of a prism.
The day she realizes you were the one.
You shouldn't be there.
You shouldn't be.
Let her sink, drown in the melancholy you suffered
Let the agony engulf her
And let her realize what she committed was  more than a carnage or a crime.
To experience the pain you felt
day to day through her lifetime.

Streetlights hum a lullaby
to neon dreams.
Cracked pavement blooms
with graffiti roses.

My heart, a tangled vine,
unfurling in the dark.
Too many words unsaid,
a choked-back symphony.

Phone screen glows,
a cold comfort.
Another night adrift
in the digital sea.

But somewhere, a connection flickers.
A shared breath,
a whispered "me too."

Maybe tomorrow,
the static will clear.
Maybe tomorrow,
we'll find our bloom.

if i were to find my place in this world -
i’d rather it be on a mountain top,
or the bottom of the sea;
somewhere - where my silence is not a bother to me,
where the voices cannot travel to tell me i don’t belong -
or that i need a voice.
i’m not sure what i’ll do there, though.
but i think i know -
i’d bring a laptop with me;
a broken one.
and i would punch away at its keys with my fingers -  
my poems, all my poems…
again,
and again,
and again…
for years, for ages
until the rhythms girdle into a symphony;
something only i could sing,
something only my heart would know,
something familiar.

and then i would cast it out into the darkness -  
where it belongs.

i liked a girl from school, she was,
for me, a little too cool; she was -
on top of her game:  
something to aim for, she was -
hardly concerned if I had a last name.

i remember those roll calls…
my head leaning against the wall
just to sneak a momentary gaze,
as she'd stand up to answer the teacher's call.

“present, sir.." or "..ma’am”,
that’s all she’d say.
and I knew I’d make it through the day.
i believed someday,
with a voice so sweet,
she’d give me a call,
ask me to meet.

and though that day never came to pass
i remember looking through the broken glass -
of the bus window with a muddy tint.
i could still see her like fine print.

i remember her doe-brown eyes,
her fleshy lips -
the belt clutching her beckoning hips
i’d go to sleep,
drooling like a creep.  
in my slumber,
we’d meet in our secret keep.

she spoke in riddles, it would seem:  
but i could trace the general theme -
she’d throw me on the bed, and i’d fall -
right out of my wishful dream.

it’s absurd, i know -
i’m not a fool.
yet sometimes,
i wish i were the ‘cool kid’ in school.
and though her memories are all a blur,
i’ve yet to meet a girl like her.

it’s just not fair
feed her your leftover energy
then fuel her with your lifeless stare

and now we behold
this constructed spirit
purposely provided to fit your mould

a hollow container, she’s not alone
but she is conditioned so deeply
to lock up the unknown

who is she?
for now she is a deer

only very few can see
that she is combatting her fear

Mannerless child!
Shameless child!
Arrogant child!
You lack home training.
Your parents must be bad.

Please don't fault my parents
I was raised well.

I was raised to greet my elders and address them with respect.
Just because I walked pass you at the mall, doesn't mean my parents are to be blamed,
If my parents found out I will be scolded.

I was raised to say "please" whenever I seek for a favour and to say "thank you" as a sign of appreciation,
Just because I didn't utter any,
Doesn't mean my parents lack gratitude,
If my parents found out, they will never gift me.

I was raised to wear decent clothings and be moral in my actions and behaviours,
Just because I wore a skimpy outfit,
Dosent mean my parents bought them,
If my parents found out, they will burn them to ashes.

I was raised to be humble and have patience,
Just because you saw me cursing and fighting on the street,
Doesn't mean my parent encourages it,
If my parents found out I will be grounded.

I was raised to be generous, to love and care without expectations,
Just because I'm indifferent,
Doesn't mean my parents are heartless,
If they found out they will be disappointed.

I was raised to study and be successful in life,
Just because I'm a school drop out,
Doesn't mean my parent never paid my fees,
If they found out they will be angry.

I was raised to always go to church or the mosques,
To visit relatives and friends,
Just because you saw me at the beer palour
Smoking and wasting myself,
Doesn't mean my parents ordained it,
If they found out, the next day might be my funeral.

So please don't fault my parent.
I was raised well.
~boddobodes

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