Are you sure?
It asks,  
so you can change your mind.
Yes, I say, frustrated, exasperated
and watch it move into the recycle bin.
Scripts, prose, ditties and lines
rejected, superfluous or just don’t seem fine
Thoughts, idioms, metaphors in disharmony
chucked into the gunny
to be dumped to clear space
or to be recycled as part of another dream.

Restless to know
if she would reciprocate,
for tomorrow I can’t wait.
A smile, a suggestive glance, even a blush
will keep me going
in this city of mush.

Officious night ,
obstacle to day
slumber away to make way.

Life emerged in the mountains in a trickle
many barriers to buckle
united with good friends we were going,
somewhere I guess.
I moved with them, not to be left alone.
The unlucky ones remained behind
to die a premature death
Through rocks and boulders
we made our way,
we had begun scaling our ambition,
translated in our rendition.
I broke off and emptied myself into the ocean first
watching others come behind
in varying degrees of enervation.
I am now trapped in this ocean of doom
with many others I scarcely know.
Does life always need an ending ? I ask the mountains.
Hey take me back, I want to start all over again.
The mountain doesn’t respond

In the world outside I was a rich man’s son
Behind these bars I am still a rich man’s son
My crime is more serious
But my lawyers more expensive

My food comes from home
My bed sheets are fresher
My loo stinks lesser
Because my **** smells sweeter

What I miss is who I could have got
with a little more patience with a little more love
But what I miss is myself
I will never be the same because I have killed a man.