I'll cast a line into the sea
of words and letters and thought,
i'll wait impatiently to see
when first the line grows taut
what rhyme or underlying notion
my fishing-line has caught
from the blackest depths of ocean
my darker shadows have wrought

my line is slack, there's nothing biting,
no monster taking the bait,
there's no thought or anything igniting,
i suppose i've more to wait.

but what if another power
has beat me to the chase
tiredness at this late hour
has placed me in deepest straits
has mulcted me of thoughts and words
so that i canna think straight?

but, hey, at least this pathetic nerd
has managed to keep his place
in making rhyme, albeit blurred,
for BLT's challenging race.

child crafted
thought incumbent
on matter grafted
dross recumbent

child nurtured
by prevailing notions
often kerchered
by doting devotions

child waxes
in social arena
a leaf on axis
as spinning ballerina

child matures
on social mores
as plant secure
on horse manure

when as adult
he follows the cult,
as vogue and fashion
become his passion

or when he supplants
through his advance
incumbent president
or chief resident

and then proceeds to wreck havoc
on age-old values, agent satanic,
it's very difficult to point one finger
on nature or nurture as harbinger

but one things for sure
and that's freewill,
child starts pure,
child won't ****.

there's a step, different to all,
that gives him a chance to rise or to fall,
and that's why, when all's said and done,
a person's responsible for the life he's spun.

i go outside, it's sunny,
but half a mo, that's funny,
Microsoft PC says 'rain'!
i must be dreaming again

else i'm living in alternate reality
of imagination or sweet fantasy
for the computer never lies
so who am i to say otherwise?

our lives ruled by externalism,
idle chatter and palaver,
egotism, journalism,
pave the way to world disaster.

let's tune in to inner world
morality and true goodness
let us stop being swirled 'n twirled
ruled by puffed up lewdness

give me a leader of themselves a master
before he drives world to disaster
because if himself he cannot rule
we might as well be led by mule.

brittle wax. breaks.
don't whistle in my face.
thin glass shatters,
nerves in tatters

my heart's open wide,
don't know where to hide,
i've cried and i've died,
G-d knows I've tried.

can't go in there,
not where they stare.
don't you feel the pain,
driving me insane?

can't you see the wall
twixt me and ye all?
just let me crawl
where the tears fall.

sun set at midday,
you closed your eyes, breathed your last,
stole my breath away,
your time went too fast.

Listen, my love, to the moon at daybreak
and speak in soft light clouds.

Wind is a golden loop that sings
to the leaf-green heart of summer,
foaming up from meadows.

Passion grows flowery,
as a daisy asks for love,
and roses answer with
perfumed kisses.

Let your smile awaken a garden
of dreams, lay a bed of love
between spring and summer,
write love letters to each morning,
granting me admittance to your thoughts.

Let your dreams hold all the radience
of your desires. Let wonder penetrate
your every hour. Hurl your heart high
among the bright globes of sky,
as the swallow draws his image
on the gates of heaven.