While the flames of passion freeze in your mind,
I’ll be wrapped behind you, cloaked in the sins of the flesh.
Jaded whispers of lustful promises filled with deceitful gazes,
I offer you not sanity, but madness.
Always beside you but never there,
my presence is the churning chaos of scars long lost forgotten.
I play upon your innocence, crushing it in my grasp,
I feed your existence the fermented embryo of society.
Your screams are in vain; I am you: a cocoon manifested from your decayed tears.
A memory surfaces to a mirrored abyss, reaching but never grasping.
Allow the jagged ice to crawl across your skin, inching, creeping, crystalizing a self you once believed in.
I claw at your chest, burning, burning, burning, the existence of your past is frail.
I feed upon your weakness.
Feeding you ******* Sins off Diverged Tongues

Two memes diverged in a dank montage,
And sorry I could not watch both
And be one memer, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it memed in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as dank,
And having perhaps the better meme,
Because it was dank and wanted memes;
Though as for that the meming there
Had danked them really about the same,

And both that montage equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden african american.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back to 9gag.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence: ******* kiddies
Two memes diverged in a montage, and I—
I took the one less memed by,
And that has made all the dankness.

Life,
A path diverged, splitting in two,
And alas, my beloved, you cannot tread both.
Choose one journey, yearn to endure,
It's an intimate voyage, a solo race to embrace,
Gaze far ahead,
Where it curved amidst the foliage, and witness how
Mortal society ebbs and flows,
Amidst an unchanging factor.
The masses conform to the transient norm,
Beloved,
Many sorrows arise from faith's inertia,
Idle and hopeful, they bear consequence.
Do not play the assigned role, for conformity persists,
As humans, we mimic one another,
Pride precedes ruin,
And arrogance leads to downfall.
They are shackled by their lack of freedom,
Drawn to those who flaunt their fluidity and uniqueness.
Beloved,
Tell this tale with a wistful sigh,
Somewhere in distant ages to come: that
Once, it was unfashionable to be rebellious,
Yet as multitudes assumed the rebel's guise,
It lost its distinctiveness, its defiance faded,
But two paths diverged, and you,
You chose the one less traveled,
And that choice has made all the difference.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

I am still
In deep thought-
Wondering, how easy I’ve let you slipped
From my hands
And from my heart

--

Let’s take a step back
And recount the moments
Recollect the memories
Reminisce the good old days
And reassess this overnight decision I’ve impulsively taken

Let’s take a few more steps back
And remember the first time I met you
Back in high school
The first time I said hi
And thought you were cute

You were a plethora of my firsts
The first boy bestfriend I’ve ever had
The first boy to ever ask me out on dates
The first boy to talk to me on a daily basis
The first boy I ever liked…. Who actually liked me back

Undoubtedly,
You were my first love

I thought I loved you like I’d never love anyone else
I told you everything
Wrecked these walls I’ve sheltered from for so long
Just to hand you this little fragile heart of mine
Through the cracked linoleum and the broken glass windows
I gave you a golden ticket and an aerial view
To my world

And after two years,
In the end,
You did decide to return the favour
You trusted me enough
To let me enter this mystical world of yours
These two dimensions you seem to always get lost in
Those two roads diverged in a wood
That you can never seem to wrap your head around
and choose

As I write this,
I start to realise why and how I stopped loving you

I think I got tired
Of trying to pull you up
As you let yourself drown in the seas
of your undecided thoughts

I stopped loving you
The moment you say “I’m going to change”
But the next day you woke up
You put on the same old clothes
You took the same route
To the place that led you exactly back to where you once were

I got sick of
Saying the same things
Over and over again
Asking you to change
Only to expect nothing in return

Truth be told
As similar as we are as people
We live in worlds too distant apart
Your world is too foreign for me, too fast and scary
Whereas my world is too small and tightly guarded, all child’s play

As much as I’d want to love you
I can’t seem to do so
And if I could, I'd say this a million times to you

I truly am sorry.

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

what did it take for me to miss those days?
crawling breathless,
stomach nails for breakfast, ventricles of rust,
pounding on my ribs with any upright task
from soaking bed delirium,
corroded mind and eyeballs
tortured falun dafa tears
stinging on the walls a glowing red,
my branching veins encasing me in flaming
paths of mystery: to live or die, to try or fail
at simple efforts
--never gone without, since infanthood--
to stand itself a tissue horror
bathing in the needles of another lifeform's hold on me,
that spiral nesting multitasker
legions in the joints,
invading forces claiming spinal tower-riches
as if my thoughts will be my last,
originary flickerings of self, sacked and razed,
the burning out of novelty for bottom emptiness
and only sympathies malinger there--
yet vaster frame invisible to healthy eye emerged:
a sea, empathic with my prior paths from health diverged:
adrenal waves and dolphin plays of other air ensouled i purge
with cascade urges tension mixing universal breath
of statements, fears and wry coercings not to think of death
or tempting near the abolition of a system *****
for all the benison it's bound to store for years
of hiding blind and uttering the shield-word
of our sly, superficial, group-stock lies,
to have us screaming at each other out of only kneejerk love
a mask of fodder from our young dogmatic wanderings
they burn and burn and choke like spirochetes themselves
while shoving under family rugs the truth

cicada shells clung eerily against the burls and branches
of a monumental tree itself a deathly symbol bare of green
like ornaments of rhythm upsurge birthing into death digest
the exoskeletal remains, under finger crunched as
up the bark i climbed
to view what death had taken value on for me, and balanced
up atop the hill of faded names i yearned the meanings of,
and in the clouds
a part revealed
a sunny mist,
to paint me colorful again--
and in that mood a hail began to tick on forest floor:
the brittle dead a singing whisper flaking brown
on brown, on earthy brown to gather white within the paper nooks of leafy drums

how whimsically to service death
anon anon for now they're always lying there
across the road atop the grave hill,
from other species hunted here
but this, that time it was a carved skull
hacked or sawed but yards from peaceful temple yard
another, cleaner omen skull had led me there,
ochre red with emerald mold
the cranial pale divided stop and go
and led me wondering within the stream
to notice other signs i half-expected mystically:
surreal blood abundantly with vulture feathers carpeting the scene:
a stag with missing brain, missing hind and organs
chosen how, i'd never know
--i saw the arrow though, a barb of certainty--
and old fur, gray and white, a timely passing then,
to make of gore a sacred right,
and in hale ignorance i prayed like only atheists can pray
with self-disclaiming smirk but
humble authenticity of unknown forces
biding in the impulse-meaning-gathering of earth,
now memory to glean and hold to live in me

Regrets, they come in waves and break around his feet
And he begins to wonder who he might have been
Had roads diverged in different woods and fields
Not yellow or yet any colour still unseen
But clearer now by day than windless nights
Still nearer than the objects of his dreams

It'd rained late into the evening, and when the lights were shaded
Around the pool outside and with the windows shuttered
He'd thrown on loose clothes, flicked open an umbrella
While high outside the stars the lightning flashes muttered
Pulled open doors that led to the veranda
And moved outside once more with all his thoughts unuttered

The smoke, from fires on Java lies heavy on his senses
An omen of the time of year and of the past condition
He shrugs, ***** in the acidic nighttime odors
Reviving lives not lived but revealing his admission
That time beyond the present that mirrors every movement
Within, without, and yet again, the flicker of suspicion.

The pistol in his pocket, illegal not unloaded
A symbol of his state of mind and by  his sole discretion
He kneels beside the water, deep-set and in the shadows
Lips forming wordlessly around the last confession
Images of where and what and who and why and whether
A portent of that final action, sensing and impression

The smoke from fires on Java lies heavy on the water
The reek of cordite mixing with the smell of burning grasses
Indignant birds protest the crack of one small set expulsion
The echo round the swimming pool reverberates and passes
Nothing more and nothing less and time and space and matter
Slick red upon the treacherous tiles, the shattered bloodied glasses.

It has to mean something.
The way our bodies fit together like Pangea.
When we're together the world rejoices,
I feel it in my bones.
A reuinion longed for,
deep in the collective soul of the earth.

We should have known, we'd be
lovers
separated
by outside forces
Drifting apart, slowly but surely.

It has to mean something
When our bodies converge
Mine subducted under yours
And volcanoes erupt.

It has to mean something,
How your lips on mine feel magnetic attraction.
How my fingers intertwine with yours
An electrical circuit, completed.
Our love could put the stars to shame.
Not only light up the night,
but consume and leave it in darkness
-power surge.

It had to mean something.

We diverged.
The space between us in bed, a trench.

The space between the bed where I lied awake waiting for you and the couch where you drank.

The space between the apartment you abandoned and the home you returned to.

Did it mean
Anything?

Letters jumbled,
Here and there on a keyboard,
Looking through our code to see where the error is, the truth is you cant find a mistake if it never existed.
We were just programmed differently, the error was all along in a mirror when you look up and understand.
Most of you looking at the white light while we already passed through the prism.
It was never about leaving the closet, we were forced into it, never been allowed to touch the *** of gold.
Roads diverged but my options are more than two, our orientation isn't a highway but that doesn't mean we don't belong on the road.
They tell me opposites attract but I fell in love on the same side of the pole and sometimes on both sides of the pole.
Religious men telling me Santa doesn't like mistakes but if you look aside your blinders, your God made me.
Stuck between the door with a skirt and a pant, some forget I'm still questioning if I look good in a pant or a skirt.
Letters in a straight line, they push us to get in line and choose a road but we like to wander and wander we will.

Everyone hears it,
Briefly before it all crumbles away.
Wet and dripping I retrieved.
Life from death with a hurried flicker.
I'm cursed with this perverted trick.
I can't bare to look at myself or it.
One side snickers at me through steel lips.
The other sings at me with an open mouth.
I see moths congregating above.
Will it swallow their light?

I wish it was easier for
people to forget, if things left their
mind as easy as they let
them in, tough skin
wouldn’t wear thin
as easy as it is right now,
my past is full of imperfections
and bad decisions, leaving unstitched
incisions beneath the brink of sanity,
but who’s isn’t? every time falsities
start, my mind races
with my heart to contemplations on
when to finish, they tattoo the past
of others on their insecurities,
fuelling the fire that burns a hole
into respect and reputation,
creating a vicious cycle
of revenge and envy,
each gossip verbally vomited
into naive ears pulls the marionette
strings of perception into the road normally
taken, two roads may have diverged
at a yellow wood, but when the ignorance
burns yellow to ash,  the road less taken
seems blocked, so the next time you hear
something about another, don’t be too quick
spread the word, the game of
telephone can get a little distorted when
the next phone call
you get is that they
were found hanging from
a rope.
                                MJB

If you ever get close
to the fork in a path,
wander through the tectonics
that diverged the road
in the first place.

Every pixel of your being
is animated. Even the unlit
trap doors leaving pockmarks
on your mind's landscape
possess colors with no name.

Who knew electronic and acoustic
were just estranged family all along?
GENRE is a manmade affectation--
music appreciation for Jingoists.

If they feed you a raindrop,
swallow the entire ocean.

Ten years ago if you would've stopped me
on the street and said that I'd be stuck
at a dead end job, divorcing my husband of fifteen years,
and dividing three kids between two houses and twenty miles,
I would've spat in your face with laughter.

We never intend to have our life's plans crumble
before us, watching our spouses change into different
people and our children pick themselves apart
because all the words their parents say are fights
disguised in jabs and cracks at each other:
the time
they don't have,
the money
they don't have, the love
they
don't
have.

And in ten years, two people can fall apart the way
a river branches into separate streams, continuously flowing away
from their source, navigating bends and crossing the silted mud of life together
until they split up.

And everything we take for granted,
those necessities of life, are broken
down into their basic elements. Water is merely
hydrogen and oxygen. A marriage is but
two people
who can be divided,
simplified, classified, jarred up, studied,
separated.

Two streams diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not see this coming.

It just happens that way.
Life just happens
that way.

Continue as you were, as you are
unchanged and ambivalent.

Continue on your way, and I will on my own.
Finally we have diverged.
No finally I have diverged. You were never on my same path.

So I will continue along,
altered and aware.
Aware of my naivety.
Aware of my insignificance in your eyes,
even though you encompassed my entire field of view.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Your mind is an abyss sated with emptiness,spore of an ink-jet,
the heart is erupting with repugnant repulsiveness.
Your conscience ravage by your impulsive act.
You indulge in savagery shackled by misery creativity is a mystery .

You diverged from an honest life and now you're perjuring in art you dark-prowlers.
Converged with parasites marauding, Proud-Writers.

Cursed with uncertainty you're embracing lies, in the realm of thieves there's a decaying crown.

I can't quit it
I can't forget it
I'll admit it
I've been at if for a minute
Playing a game and trying to win it
No matter how I spin it
This is who I am
Without any plan
This is the man
That through it all emerged
After traveling a road that diverged
My demons have been purged
These paths are not paved in gold
Though I walk through the cold
It all seems so old
For every time I fell
For every story I tell
For every single hell
I struggled to make it through
It was all that I could do
To come out as someone new
A few more tears a few more scars
Yet I am still gazing at stars
Daydreaming of things so bizarre
An image in my head a smile on my face
My troubles all vanish without a trace
Knowing all the while that this is my place
I have been broken, beaten, and burned
In all of this I have learned
Love is not given it is earned

royals mistake the tears cried over animals, esp. those wild and not petted, as if they were man’s added 1 to a million ‘ stones in minature form of the sandy: see that singleton quotation mark? it’s different pause from comma semi-colon or hyphen, it’s the ironic pause - almost compounding the two words.*

i skullhead i,
i the skullhead, i,
no more a body than a maxim,
i the tomb in stone
but in body a bone,
i skullhead i,
i the skullhead,
no more a body than a maxim -
why will not death wilt
before engaging in the lives or mortals?
why will death meddle in mortal amorousness
when it will not meddle in a death of a god?
**** you death!
meddle elsewhere! who are prone
to breathe the same air as you;
interesting lives make less
of a library than libraries readily mothering
the lives hardly lived but nonetheless written...
eager ***** in section 1,
less eager ***** in section 1.5
mature ***** in sectiont 2 of being crazed
by crosswords and those dumb books
written by young men who "diverged from living"
given horse was replaced by motorcycle...
and feet were replaced by horse later replaced by
ferrari... vroom vroom...
and affordable life in london by saudi arabia investments;
let's wave to our mothers...
we'll be the ones on the premier red carpet
for sure...
it doesn't matter... i prefer opera to cinematic raqqa...
and i prefer theatre to conversation.

At the end
You are alone
With the memories
Full of people
Who left you
In the darkness
Of misery
To sail in
Their loneliness
Alone

I have diverged so far
To call myself “she”
If I go further more
I will not call myself
At all.

The god of dreams has taken me
Long ago
I knew it when I drank him
I feel him in my throat and stomach
In my blood, under my skin.

Dreamer in life
Have you forgotten your mind in some of the corners
of your dream?
Dreamer in life
When exactly did you lose the smell of where you live?
Dreamer in life
Some look and yearn for your wake look.

But reality is grey mortar and cigarette butts
Every sin a misconception, every love, dust
You wake up each day with seated lethargy, willing to stop
And where will this all lead if you do not…
No.

It’s easier to go insane then to remain conscious
The diluted air covers me and I know it to be easy
To float away from the dark and ***** soil where all chains
are known
and kiss my forehead.
No.

I diverged sufficiently
Already I call myself “she”
A bit further and
I will not call myself.

My poem warms my nights like a silver moon,
like fireflies on the trees; fantasy is what I longed,
constructed feelings, somehow are unexplained,
like bubbles of morning air, touch my skins.

It's not how I intertwine my heart all of the sudden,
but how our language diverged; beautifully spoken,
and when my mind erects, so slow, for real
that's when I ******* words suitable for her.

I suckled my mother's Bluetooth breast
while my father built me a bassinet
of series circuits with high, motherboard
bars.
I've got that artificial baby glow.
But Mom put my ****** on Facebook
at four weeks and I still haven't re-friended
(forgiven) her. My upgrade's in nine months,
but I want my downgrade now
'cause all I get are social invite excuses
from Facebook fuckfaces. We pack
our lives into little boxes that we're
not even allowed to open.
We drink to technology, keep our lazy
eyes on our news feeds, and recycle
ideas like their owners would even
want to see what we've done to them.
We misquote Confucius and credit ourselves
with mangled Robert Frost stanzas.

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I think
it's awesome that Pepsi used to be blue."

Reblog, revine,
retweet, FaceTime.
Folding chair fold-out on someone's lawn.
White-out Yeats, Keats, Byron, and Auden,
and write John ******* or Tom Whatever.
We're caught in the chicken wire of an LCD
fruit basket so neat, orderly, and brushed
aluminum. How can people write in Starbucks?
S
   B  
       U  
            X
B  
     S
The cooler's too ******, music's too shy,
and the sugar, no, not just the sugar.
THE PEOPLE are too artificial.
The carpet-suit inlay I'm standing
on has pencil lead, sock lint,
and receipt shred lapel pins.
Even corporations play dress-up.

But what happens when Y2K kicks
in tomorrow?
Lives will be lost even before
the missiles **** us.
And the planes that drop
from the sky won't even come close
to when the bough breaks your little
girl's heart, baby, because your phone
can't raise her anymore, so you have to.

And based on your search history,
tweets, and recorded dreams,
she's better off in the warm
embrace of a hard drive.

1
Like the  turning sheets
of a monthly calender,
life has layers after layers.

How would he know that ,
just a callow youth on  sea shore
playing with  smooth pebbles,
that was when he saw her first.

She was the woman who
taught him, whole cities lay merged
within a woman, like wave after wave,
of inhabitants over time, leave their
archaeological markers of periods,
she was a mystery like life itself.
There is no way to decipher.

2
They first met
in the city of light,
Diwali lamps were lit
in all courtyards,
It was an immortal moment
in his  life, he realized,
leading him gently to the light
which evaded him though he assiduously sought,
she parted without a word
Did she belong to someone else?
3
The city of sorrow,
yet again brought them  face to face
Ridden with angst of existence
he stumbled, was about to fall, then
he  could experience her iron will
more than a woman, she stood, like a pillar of strength,
she took his weary head in both hands, pressed to her breast,
pulled out the crown of thorns, their paths
diverged again, inexplicably complex, was their relationship.
4
In the city of guilt,
an unexpected meeting again,
they were surprised. Here, they were on their own.
They  wanted to take their lives in their hands,
in spite of the currents that pulled them to different directions.
But he knew all the while that her self, was divided between
three cities within her.They co-existed, Light.Guilt.Sorrow
will their love survive? Not all loves are intended to live long,
a parrot in his tree of loneliness always whispered.He pretended he didn't hear,
A game of dice, almost was their lives, mysterious forces did bet on their love,
Having traveled through fire and water, she was beyond pleasure and pain,
Kali with a fiery nose stud, female power that overcomes all pain,
she became, that shattered his dreams for them.
He was thankful, to be awakened by her,
the light she lit, burned bright, within.

Now or never.He crossed the river.
Deliverance comes from an inner source,
otherwise all will end as an idiot's tale
signifying nothing.
Her flame lighted his wick, liberated him.
5
Fire spitting dragons one can tame,
but in the duel with demons of life,
it could be a blood letting end,
call it play of chance or what ever
they are the  easy game here
He  packed his backpack and
started to move eastwards,
Westward bound was she, invariably,
her heart had still a song left for him,
the void was filled, the pain was stilled
with anesthetics of mind.
Just for one last time they went to the beach,
watching the sunset was their good bye to each other.
They never met again.

Two ducks diverged in a yellow pond,
And sorry I could not swim with both
And be one flamingo, on long legs I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent to underground blackmarket;
Then took the other, as just a carnival,
And having perhaps the better clam,
Because it was gassy and wanted to wear the newest trands (like those at your local hot topic);
Though as for that the passing out there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay with a stranger in your bed
In leaves no step had trodden black(not racist I swear).
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two ducks diverged in a pond, and I-
I took the one less swam by,
And that has made all the difference.
In my quest for world conquest.
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The easy road always leads to Nowhere.

I knew it before. My momma had warned me of it, of what I would see. I had two roads to choose from when it was time for me to go, when I would have to leave the comfort of my red bricked cottage.  

I saw in front of me two roads diverged in a yellow wood.

Momma warned me about that easy road. "It leads to Nowhere," she always said.

Yet it was so attractive with its lush scenery and spacious roads. An entrance, painted bright blue. “Welcome to Anywhere!" In fact, many stayed awhile on these roads and gathered among themselves in trivial conversation. There was no need to hurry, no place to be over there in Anywhere.

Laughter could be heard from miles away.

The road so simple could always be seen from the road so hard, sending down envy into the very stomachs of those brave enough to enter it.

The hard road was absolutely terrible.

It took too many sacrifices and short-lived enjoyments. No pretty signs welcomed me in. Only a caution to the cowardly lay hidden among scraggy thorns.

The entrance was vile, a landscape unpleasant to my eyes.

Pain and sadness waited often on the sidewalk there. No mercy for those who slipped and showed a bit of weakness. The roads were bumpy and tumultuous. One cannot simply count on their fingers how many times they would trip on this road.

The hard road was less traveled and therefore extremely lonely. No person in sight. No sound could be heard except for the eerie laughter echoing from the roads of Anywhere.


..But, boy, let me tell you. I have come to the end of that road, calloused and bruised

and my joy lay in the knowledge of the fact that Somewhere was waiting for me.

The hard road leads to Somewhere.

When I reached it that was when I knew:

Somewhere is so much more better than Nowhere.

Even better than Anywhere

Somewhere is worth it.

And to see it on the horizon, at the end of the long road of hardship..

when there were no more pebbles to step on

or pain lurking in the shadows to be afraid of

I knew right there and then

Somewhere was deserved by me

Somewhere was mine

and that has made all the difference.

My poem illuminates the night like a golden moon,
like fireflies on the trees, and the love I ever owned;
constructed feelings, somehow are still unexplained,
like bubbles of morning air, how it kissed my skin.

It's not how our hearts intertwined all of the sudden,
but how our language diverged; beautifully spoken,
and when my mind engorges reality, so slow, so slow,
that's when I write those lovely words only for you.

Looking for an out
And escape,
How far are you willing to go?
Till Death you say,
That's a long way,
I say.

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood one day..."

Which road to choose now we've come this far
dagger held to throat, blade over artery
How far indeed.
Would it be weakness to withdraw
Would it be attention-seeking to continue
Oh, some respite from this self-loathing
I changed, and you don't even know me.
I don't know me.
A day, an hour, a minute, a moment, a second
They become smaller, smaller, smaller.
The pain gets magnified
I feel it in my bones
Death doesn't lie far
- Whether spiritual, physical
Or finally, mental, still remains to be seen
I wish I'd foreseen this


We wish a number of things
Unusual things, each as pure as black.
We wish we had a place, a position to
Change the world to our liking
Let's admit it - it would never suit everyone
Machinery, we are. Machinery, we will remain.
A few draw closer to escape
Oh sweet, merciful, hellish escape  


"And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth"

Floating on restless waters, tonight,
broken moons breathe in waving clouds;
Time is a colander, through which
life escapes, never to return; Yet tonight
the beanstalk remains tangled;
I sat watching swans in the moonlight
where the canal and stream met;
Rock the boat! Peace is a botheration.
Could the road that diverged loop
back to the fork? Walking backwards,
tonight, leaves and assorted bits of paper
fly forward; After the off-licenses close,
someone's dashing for the last bus
before dawn, running in reverse; three
hooded figures lost in the cemetery,
walking backwards; The moon
weeps tears of mist, that
ripple spreading inward in the puddles
after the rain; There's a weeping firefly
crawling in the sink; Or the kitchen-lamp?
Bubbles die to the siren-song of crickets.
Is there is an Ithaca fabled?

I have wandered a street.
A long and lonely street.
There were people, of course.
Wanderers too.
But it was still,
just a lonely street.
There was a chill in the air,
and the ever falling mist.
It was dark, lonely, and cold.
The people were just people,
so I was still alone.
I made acquaintances,
many of them,
along the way.
But I never meant much to them.
Nor they to I.
Because they were just people.
They could not understand me.
The could not love me.
And I never understood them either.
And loved only a select few
that I thought were different.
I walked with them.
We walked together.
But we were always different.
Yes, I loved them too much.
Perhaps I still do.
But we always walked different paths.
Except for you.
We crossed paths,
many years ago
when I was discovering myself.
We walked a while,
we talked a while.
I knew you were different,
even then.
Something was between us.
I felt it,
and I knew you did too.
You professed that it was love.
And indeed it was.
For a while afterwards,
we walked together.
But then something happened.
My path diverged.
Or maybe it was yours.
Either way,
we both walked alone.
The road became treacherous.
That dark and lonely road.
I was overcome with loneliness,
soaked to the bone in misery
and heartache.
I was molded in ways
no soul should ever experience.
But I endured.
I learned many valuable lessons.
Most of them the hard way.
I fought my own demons,
again and again and
again.
During this time,
our paths converged several more times.
We walked together again,
for some too brief times.
While our paths were split again,
I tried to survive you
with others.
But in my heart,
I always knew it was futile.
They were never different.
Not the way you are.
They were never..
you.
And I walked on.
On and on.
For what seemed like forever,
down the long and winding road.
I stumbled, I fell,
I hurt, I cried,
until I realized.
It's you.
I need you.
Our paths once again converge.
We are walking together again.
Hand in hand.
Together.
Finally, I accept that we are meant
to walk together, to talk together,
to laugh together, to live together,
to love together,
down this road.
Forever.
And, although my demons still haunt me,
at least I'll never face them alone
again.
And, though my road is still
terrifyingly dark,
at least I walk it with you.
I've found you.
Finally.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.



ሁለት መንገዶች
አረንጓዴ ቢጫማ ጫካ
ውስጥ ተሰንጥቀው፣
ተለያዩ ባላ ሰርተው፡፡

ቅር የሚያሰኝ ቢሆንም፣
በሁልቱም መንግደ ተጉዤ
አንድ መንገደኛ
ልሆን አልችልም፣
ስለዚህ ቀጥ ብዬ ቆምኩ፣
እንደዛ እንዳደረኩ፣
እስከምችለው ርቀት
ቋጥኙ እስከሚያሽቖለቁልበት
አንዱን መንገድ አማተርኩ፣
ከዚም ምናልባትም ያም
ደህና የሚመስለውን፣
መረጥኩ ሌላኛውን፣
አርንጓዴ ሳራማውን፣
መቀደስ መታሸት የሚሻውን!

ግና በሱም ላይ መረማመድ፣
አዛምዶታል ከዛኛው መንገድ!
የዛን ጠዋት ሁለቱም መንገዶች፣
ነበሩ የተነሰነሱባቸው
የቅጠል ቄጤማዎች፣ ያላወየቦቸው
ተጓዝ እግሮች፡፡

ዘመን በዘመን ከታጅበ በኋላ
በትዝታ ባቡር ይሔን
አጠንጥኜ ወደኋላ
አወሳለሁ
‹‹ሁለት መንገዶች
አረንጓዴ ቢጫማ ጫካ
ውስጥ ተሰንጥቀው፣
ተለያዩ ባላ ሰርተው!››

እናም መረጥኩ
እምብዛምያልተዘወተረውን
ለልዩነቱ፣ ያ ነው ሁሉም ምክኒያቱ!

(በሮበርት ፍሮስተ/ትርጉም ዓለም ኃይሉ ገ/ክርሰቶስ)