A bigger world, was what I saw, before it hit me like a train on the first round.
I was almost knocked out but hope was a second chance,
Every second that passes, I get older, and my beliefs falter,
And then again my teeth are punched out,
This time there is no pain, just a desprate grasp for air,
But with all my might I push ahead, Staggering forward half blind and half deaf,
Swinging pathetic fists embroiled with hope,
Swinging endlessly into the dark.
To all those swinging fists
You are the wind.
I am the moon.
We should never meet.
But still, I long for... here.
here is where I feel
but I am not made for you
and neither are you
It's all in hope
and hope is all there is
for who is left to believe?
That the wind and the moon will meet.
Sometimes, I see him, that child running.
He merrily hops on the broken tiles.
The tiles crack and shatter underneath his feet.
The sounds that they make pleases him.
Sometimes, I see them, momentus glimses in the night sky.
They shoot across the glimmering canvas.
I wonder how many, witnessed this fleeting glimse?
Sometimes, I see myself in places I have never been.
I run in the sand, swim in the sea.
I touch the snow and feel the cold.
I smell the fresh air and swat the bugs away.
I see it all so clearely.
And in those sometimes, I am made undoubtly happy.
The imagination is happiest place I've never been.
All the men in the world
One hot summer day,
Find that their mustaches have run
The heavely bearded men wailed in nay,
The clean shaved men had a pecuilar stray,
For they, on the hot summer day, had grown hair,
Hair on their lip that made way
For their mustaches to run away.
The world had turned upside down.
What will all the mustachless men do?
What has caused the hair to run away?
There is a storm,
A grey beast.
I should hide, but I must protect this.
There is a storm,
A grey beast.
Protect this little creature.
In the corners, hiding eyes watch me,
He who should hide, but I must protect this.
Those hiding eyes,veer away.
Those hiding eyes, with snicker and sneer.
Those hiding eyes, with empathy and fear.
Become the storm,
This grey beast.
The microscopic ant was trampled by the shoes of the busy human.
All the colony grieved for days, The warriors in anger, the queen in distress, the workers in apathy.
Then one day where the incident occurred.
A witness ant saw the same shoe.
The warrior ants cried their chant, revenge is here for their brother ant.
So, they climbed the shoe and bit, only to be thrown off towards their death.
The pest control was called and the colony was flushed.
And the man who spewed white death sang a tune:
"Here is the fate of those insignfcant things, that tried to take what they thought they deserved"
He laughed and smiled at his job well done.
And looked at what he had done, the colony had died that is for sure.
And his boss called for another job.
Leave me words to speak,
My mind is sadness my body is weak,
My words to speak hold me,
My words to speak warm this freeze,
When you are done, leave nothing but my words to speak,
For even in my grave, I would pray you blessed.