When thoughts invade your mind like ghouls on a dark night, how can you trust it?

Walk lovingly into the crevices of your unpleasant memories so that the bitterness of the past might be replaced with the sweetness of the present.

The onset of a desire signals the onset of a challenge and the onset of a setback.

A profound lyric becomes a powerful wind of steadfast love.
Lifts the hate-filled cloak that has been engulfing humanity.
A new sense of calm and tranquilly descends across the divided society.

Didn't you feel compelled to write poetry right now?
Put yourself at ease.
The sun has risen, and it is now day.
At night, the moon will also rise.
Try writing in the moonlight.
Poetry may arise at any time.

Where should I go?
Why do I go?
if compassion is found in this land.

Vigorously croaking frogs with a crush.
Dark clouds' enlarging shadow.
Values and possessions are washed away by raging flood.

Home.
Room.
Mind.


Everything is empty.

Who are you to be attached to anything when you can't truly like or hate anything?

Poets are made to be vendors of peace.

Avoid touching or prodding anything; if you do, itchy life dust fragments will stick to your skin. Instead, veer over to the side

Lose all you can in this life.
However, if the sagging smile on your face draws all soul-eating spirits to you, you will crown your defeats with glory.

When thou gave up on desire, the slayer of common sense, thou attained greatness.

The chicken crows with pride.

The Sun, predictably, ascends.

The  guy in charge of the chicken's fate chopped its neck, stripped its feathers, and hung it in front of his shop.

Some of the village's ever-lazy and hungry residents walked into the store and gorged themselves on the chicken pieces. They sank to the floor and instinctively gripped their chest.

The chemeleon perched on the compound wall like a bully, ran to the backyard closet to avoid the predictable turmoil that ensued.

Life turns into a festival of divinity when the heart transforms into a conch that blows peace.

After a protracted wait, the first rain of the year has finally arrived.
It has calmed the frazzled thoughts and cooled the soil.
Joy is pouring in abundance everywhere.
The vitality of life has returned.

I only want a small space to scribble down a few lines of poetry that will endure forever.

We believe that someone is in possession of our hearts.

We believe that we are in possession of their goals and dreams.

We believe that the vast majority of people think and live in that way.

Life nowadays can be compared to a dish that smells amazing but tastes bland when you bite into it.

My decisions are broken stances.

When one is defeated within, one puts on a brave face, like a tree stripped of its branches shining brightly in the fading sunlight.

Who is the witness to a fake life?
Do the people we live with resemble the images in our hearts?

Close to everything.
Not fixed in anything,
like a dream.

It is difficult to go on.
There isn't an option.
The darkness of life beckons.

Walls of bad luck obstructing progress.
An expanding gulf of hopelessness leads to an abyss of misfortune. Into a place from where there is no turning back, the soul dives.

A distortion of space.

Does it matter whether the log is burned from the front or the back?

Life is a log with two burning ends.

Nothing here isn't much.
Even if you unwrap and spill, everything remains the same.

Gotta live here.
Gotta die here.
You have nowhere to go.

The sea of life has no harbours.

The wind of faith has carried hope to the shore.
Dare to dream once again.

Half a life is lived each day.
Not yet lived a full life.

Yesterday, life was a promise.
Today, it's a curse.

May we all experience an unique, unrestricted dream of destiny in one another's poetry.

Not giving back to others what you have received from them.

Can a goat follow the same path that an elephant has taken?

Something goes wrong every time I think of you. Today, I lost one of my last teeth.

Good deeds performed while under the influence of others are short-lived. Without influence, good deeds decline.

You claimed that the drawing I made of you had no soul. I'm sorry to say that it isn't even present in the actual person.

A honey dew fell softly on the leaf.
My soul's silence was broken.
It agitated the God within me.

A cocktail of illusion and strong feelings.
Sip gently to enjoy.