#samuel
Now I rest, for here I build heaven,
Within these glades of infinity.
Here I shall find a place for my idyl,
Down by where the corn fields lead.
That which I sow shall not be forgotten,
Lest I grow weary of my Harvest deeds.
And that which is dead shall resurrect,
Like the changing of the autumn leaves.
Sep 21, 2023
Sep 21, 2023 at 7:54 AM UTC
We waited – waited – waited…
For that which
We knew
Not
Just killed the time till killing time…
With small and
Pointless
Talk
We seemed to ride upon a dream…
That faded with
Slow with
Time
And in the end, the curtains closed…
Without a
Reasoned
Rhyme
.
Feb 8, 2020
Feb 8, 2020 at 11:21 AM UTC
...is a purple curtain
behind this curtain
is your flesh
behind your flesh
is your ego
behind your ego is the real you
we've been on a journey
like grandpa and grandmom
take me away
take me to the place of the real you
Dec 4, 2019
Dec 4, 2019 at 4:08 PM UTC
Daniel,
Waktu panorama nyata cerah merona
Aku termenung dungu
Malu, cemas tak pernah begini
Atau entah pernah namun kulupa
Kala aku berlari menuju hilang
Cerah itu muncul, kupikir selesai semua
Berpapasan sosokmu, membelai pipimu
Ku tak becus
Yang terasa dijiwa makin bermakna
yang ada dihati makin berarti
Tak harap lebih berjumpa denganmu
Dimimpiku
Dipelaminan
Atau dirumah kita nanti
Rasa cintamu sudah cukup
Sungguh,
Terima kasih
Buatmu, 2017.
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 12:15 PM UTC
You're my lucky charm,
Silver locket,
Heather in my pocket.
The twist of fingers,
For a promise,
A love so pure, forever honest.
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 4:16 AM UTC
Said The Raven
To The Raven
Which Raven are you?
I said The Raven
Am The Raven
Of Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
And I said The Raven
Am The Raven
Of Edgar Allan Poe.
Apparently there's a rave on -
Shall we go?
Yes - let us go then you and I
As the evening is spread out
Against the sky.
But not like a patient
Etherised upon a table.
Let us like Thunderbirds
Not gentle go into this dark night.
So dressed in sable
White gloves
And whistles
They went on their way -
Not looking forward
To conversations about
Michelangelo at all.
For as we all know
Old age should rave and burn
At close of day.
And not just fizzle out.
More big shout...........................................
And rave until you fall.
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 8:09 AM UTC
Years later
Bathsheba's psychiatrist
Was analysing the tryst
Between King David
And her.
It was no tryst
Said she.
What a slur.
He was a ******
And an opportunist.
An amoeba would concur
Said the psychiatrist
That a shower screen
And being more demure
Would have been
Quite spiritually enterprising.
You cannot expect
Kind David to desist
From objectifying your femurs
And a cracking pair of amethysts.
Don't treat me
Like some calculating
Hormone Exchange Unit
You sexist misogynist.
You are not fit
To analyse me.
You say your name's Freud
But you're wholly devoid
Of any insight
Of what is amiss
Or my troubles might be.
Not one piece of grit
Have you put in my oyster.
You obsequious churl
I'm a girl you don't mess with.
I could have you hung.
But instead she dismissed him
and booked an appointment
With a certain professor
Who went by the name of
Carl Gustav Jung.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 11:27 AM UTC