Tears are
The poets' ink
When they sink.
Tears are the painters' brush
When they cry or blush.
Tears are the language
Of those losing their language.
Every drop of tear
Expresses a joy or fear.
If you don't understand my tear
Your sympathy will worsen my fear.
Stop calling me dear.
My tears will never die
And I will never sigh.
My tears will revenge
Your fake challenge.

There's no fun in
being done in
or done over
by the boys in
blue,
you know what and who
I mean?

reading the news
turning the screws
tightening the nuts
before they all bolt,

sorry,
it's Sunday
which is not a bad day,
Monday however
is a different story.

~
I cast my net
                  into the tributary

and release into you, a seasonal swim,

I give to you a mother's color,
        as you recite
        infant hymns,

                    you're a bleeder
on the days sunfire meters out its origin,
                    you're my river

free and clear from the grip

      of anchorage,

                         my river,

drifted on to wherever
                       moon wishes glister
~

The end is the death
Of every beginning.
Not every end has
A beginning.

I forgot to tell you.
I am so sorry
I turned amnesiac .
I buried my dreams
Not in a tomb
But  in my heart.

The way you view the world,
Is a way of seeing life.
Being stuck in the past,
Or in the future,
While all along the present is
where you should've lived.