"tricky" poems
who lit the candles
placed so eloquently
behind purple rock?
that sculpted radiance
and chapel grace
wound in a chosen
defined way
down the spiral
stone stairs
street cars dawdle
alongside
the packer slew
biding merchants
shuffle their wares
as the front man
and pock face
sing their sullen
holy blues
cut jazz echoes
over the accompanying
gabble and drone
incense and haze
pour from
a lower trap door
sack fish, truffles
and splendid crafts shine
inside the stained glass fronts
a wide mouth snapper
with a bloated tongue
greets the
morning tide
(not camera shy
in the least!)
the fish traps
and beaneries
bring life
to the flourishing causeway
hula hoops
and circle ballers
join the
cobaine stage
favoured rogues
and mac jacks
speak easy
of the big daddy
beth’s triple by pass
taking firm hold on
tricky ****
and the nutcracker
maze ways,
taggers and
lost tunnels
of cu chi
strike a
nerving blow
a poised finger man
belts out his tune
(with a sniff sock
and iterating glare)
his nosey neighbors
cut artisan bread
(with a white wine
and jelly spread)
midwives push forward
for an afternoon
toddle and stroll
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 11:12 AM UTC
Step One:
Meet someone.
Step Two:
Become friends.
Step Three:
Spend too much time with them.
Step Four:
Realize that you have gotten along better with them than anyone else you know.
Step Five:
Tell yourself that they're the one for you.
Step Six:
Tell them that they're the one for you.
Step Seven:
Date.
Step Eight:
Fall in love.
Take a deep breath.
This is where it gets tricky.
STEP NINE:
Stay together for awhile...
STEP TEN:
AND AWHILE LONGER
STEP ELEVEN
AND WHILE LONGER
STEP TWELVE
AND AWHILE LONGER
AND AWHILE LONGER
AND AWHILE LONGER
AND AWHILE LONGER
STEP THIRTEEN:
SHORTEN CONVERSATIONS
STEP FOURTEEN:
AWKWARD SILENCE
STEP FIFTEEN:
THEY STOP CALLING
STEP SIXTEEN:
THEY STOP TEXTING
STEP SEVENTEEN:
THEY SAY THEY FEEL DIFFERENTLY
STEP EIGHTEEN:
THEY SAY THEY MET SOMEONE ELSE
STEP NINETEEN:
THEY SAY THEY STILL WANT TO BE FRIENDS
STEP TWENTY:
THEY BLOCK YOU ONLINE
STEP TWENTY-ONE:
THEY BLOCK YOUR CELLPHONE NUMBER
STEP TWENTY-TWO:
YOU CRY
and you cry
and cry
and cry
and cry and cry and cry...
Step Twenty-Three:
...you fall
and hit rock bottom.
There you have it, ladies in gentlemen:
How to **** yourself without actually dying?
...Love someone who doesn't love you back.
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 10:56 PM UTC
Enter the world of color
Of competition
And danger.
Where all things seem possible and
Nothing is unexpected
Where enemies
Are tricky
Cunning and just plain stupid
Fat and lazy.
Where an Italian man
With a moustache
And wearing red
Screams
"Let-se-go!"
Yes that is the world I
Am speaking of.
The world of the wishful,
Dreaming they could live in it forever
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 2:43 PM UTC
Last week I was taught that
no matter how complex an expression may seem
if you multiply it by its conjugate pair
you will always end up with a non-negative real solution.
That is a metaphor for how we have learned to love.
I used to like mathematics, as strange as it may sound,
because memorising the value of pi was
somehow easier than forgetting the notion of you
and I thought maybe comprehending the mechanics of the universe
would lead me one step closer to cracking the combination.
In a world that spins at the rate of 27,900m per minute, a constant can prove tricky to find.
Hence, there is solace to be felt in knowing that even when it is all said and done –
when the final bullet has slipped from our tongues and we are left trembling
upon nothing but the rubble of our own destruction,
two plus three will still be equal to five.
In an attempt to clarify a theory to the class, my teacher analogised
that mathematics is like one big giant jigsaw puzzle:
everything always fits together perfectly in the end
Since then I have learned it is the method without the madness,
the passion for the predictable; it is everything - that love is not.
Not even the greatest mathematician in the world
has been able to measure how much a heart can hold.
There is no algorithm for how to make you come back;
I cannot draw a line graph on the speed at which love left
and even if I could, our gradients would never be the same.
I may have both halves of the bed,
but there is never enough space to fill it with.
If a task takes four hours for ten people to complete
and the same job takes five people twice that time,
how long will it take for a human to feel whole again?
Sometimes I think we are nothing more
than two parallel lines that accidentally crossed paths.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 5:47 PM UTC
I think I fall under the category of
The Hopeless Romantic
And the thing about about me,
The tricky thing of
hopeless romantics
Is that,
when I say hello to someone,
(And that hello is magical )
When I fall in love
I never Imagine that
That Hello can turn into a good bye
And when I have a first kiss with someone
I never ever imagine that someday
That could turn into a last kiss.
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 7:21 PM UTC
the tricky thing
about growing up
is it’s a choice
puberty happens
because of nature
adulthood is a conscious effort.
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 3:36 AM UTC
People always seem to misunderstand me,
It's amazing how they can judge so quickly,
That's why I decided to always be the happy one,
The one to make jokes and everything seemed fun,
But what they don't know is that anxiety,
Floods through me.
How much I hold back from the things I really want
You see it's a cruel world out there
I learned how to people can stab you in the back and pretend to care,
How everything you do
is going to be judged by people who have no clue.
So I've learned to sugarcoat my opinions,
Hide behind a lie: a smile
Be the nice one in every situation
Someone who would go that extra mile
Still it wasn't enough,
In the end I was still misunderstood.
Even if my intentions were good
it still got twisted to some bad stuff.
So I just hold myself back
trying to save myself from all the heartache,
Avoiding the trouble my emotions would make
Sugar coating my opinions
In serious situations
Just drowning myself lyrics
Avoiding all the tricky topics
Yet once again they misunderstand me,
They come up with this version of my life story,
they'd assume I'm always lonely,
And honestly it makes me angry,
Because they don't even know me.
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
A monster appears
like one from your childhood
An inner battle commences
Between the bad and the good
At first, you'd find them in movies
or under the bed
Now as you grow, you fear
The monsters live in your head
Disguised as shadows in night,
New monsters now appear
These monsters are sneakier,
They know what you fear
Struggling to breathe,
your eyes filled with fear
Trapped, alone, no where to hide
Can't escape, it's far and it's near
This monster is tricky,
It plays tricks on your mind,
You plead for it to stop,
But there's no where to hide
This monster knows you
It makes you question your past
With a bleak outlook,
You wonder how long this might last
The one place you felt safe
Before this monster invaded
Now your mind is no solace
Every good memory faded
How do you run from something
That plays tricks on your mind?
How do you know who you are
When it's yourself you can't find?
How do you feel joy from
things that now trigger pain?
How do you move forward with life
when only fear remains?
We all grow up
It's a natural part of life
No one ever warns us though
That life comes with great strife
No one ever tells us
To be afraid of our thoughts
Feeling lost and alone
With many battles still to be fought
Once this monster invades,
It's hard to get back
To a life once lived,
Before this monster attacked
Our parents warned us of
the bad guys outside
They never told us
of the ones in our minds
And now this monster has control
You no longer recognize the mirror
You pray for this to end,
For prayers fall upon deaf ears
You question your sanity,
You question your morals
This monster knows how to torture
To envelop you in its toil
You know you have a battle ahead
This monster can't defeat
Crippled by the past
You must overcome and beat
This is an illness
This is internal torture
But you mustn't forget
You've got a bright future
You must fight on,
Between this inner war
Good versus evil,
What do you fight for?
Fight for love,
Fight to win back your mind
Fight for family and joy
Fight for what you still must find
Monsters can attack
Anyone, anytime
Lest not judge
For you never know when a monster might prey upon YOUR mind
Author note: end the stigma of mental illness. Talk about it.
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC
LONG ago I learned how to sleep,
In an old apple orchard where the wind swept by counting its money and throwing it away,
In a wind-gaunt orchard where the limbs forked out and listened or never listened at all,
In a passel of trees where the branches trapped the wind into whistling, "Who, who are you?"
I slept with my head in an elbow on a summer afternoon and there I took a sleep lesson.
There I went away saying: I know why they sleep, I know how they trap the tricky winds.
Long ago I learned how to listen to the singing wind and how to forget and how to hear the deep whine,
Slapping and lapsing under the day blue and the night stars:
Who, who are you?
Who can ever forget
listening to the wind go by
counting its money
and throwing it away?
8.5k
There is nothing more unsettling
than a teenage Christmas.
The coming of age
when adults find their inner child again
and you have to try and get rid of yours.
11 is fine.
Part of you still believes Santa put the presents under tree.
12 is also okay,
just a little less pixie dust stirs in the stomach on Christmas Eve.
13, 14 and 15 are tricky.
You don't want to look babyish by getting too excited,
so you shrug it off and ask 'Santa' for a mobile phone,
a laptop,
a TV,
until by 15
you ask for the most 'grown up' present of all.
"I just want money."
The words burn your lips and tongue like acid,
a yearning for the sensation of a gift you can unwrap
tugging in your rib cage.
You can't buy that.
16, 17 and 18 are Christmases tinged with nostalgia.
Little ghosts of the younger you run down the stairs on Christmas morning,
feet clad in slippers and Power Rangers pjyamas askew,
whilst you follow in procession,
almost a funeral.
It's not that you don't like Christmas.
It's not that you don't love your family.
It's not that you don't feel a fire light in your belly when you bite into a mince pie,
it's not that the battered Christmas videos your family replay each year don't still make you smile,
it's not even that you've gotten too old for it all.
Have you?
Slippers and tiny fists batter against advent calender doors,
begging you to open them.
When you're 19 you do.
You let them out and let them rush to rip open their presents under the tree.
You let them eat their selection box first before dinner.
You let them cry when the Snowman melts
and you let them laugh and not mock heave when your father chases your mother with mistletoe.
You let the ghosts become holograms you can play in your mind like a projector and slides,
no longer a need to leave holly by their graves
but a chance to remember and smile.
You let them be happy.
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 10:08 AM UTC
"Every man gotta right to decide his own destiny."
-Bob Marley
"Facts on facts, and things on things: that's alot of fuckin' ******** Hear me! there is no truth but the one truth, an' that is the truth of Jah Rastafarian."
-Bob Marley
"I don't stand for the black man's side, I don' t stand for the white man's side. I stand for God's side."
-Bob Marley
"in the abundance of water, the fool is thirsty."
-Bob Marley
"the harder the battle the sweet of jah victory."
-Bob Marley
"open your eyes & look within, are you satisfied with the life you´reliving."
-Bob Marley
"in this great future you can't forget your past."
-Bob Marley
"If you get down and quarrel everyday, you're saying prayers to the devil, I say."
-Bob Marley
"Just can't live that negative way...make way for the positive day!"
-Bob Marley
"Life and Jah are one in the same. Jah is the gift of existence. I am in some way eternal, I will never be
duplicated. The singularity of every man and woman is Jah's gift. What we struggle to make of it is our sole gift to Jah. The process of what that struggle becomes, in time, the Truth."
-Bob Marley
"Life is one big road with lots of signs. So when you riding through the ruts, don't complicate your mind. Flee from hate, mischief and jealousy. Don't bury your thoughts, put your vision to reality . Wake Up and Live!"
-Bob Marley
"People want to listen to a message, word from Jah. This could be passed through me or anybody. I am not a leader. Messenger. The words of the songs, not the person, is what attracts people."
-Bob Marley
"Until the philosophy which hold one race superior and another inferior is finally discredited and
abandoned...WAR! So that is prophecy, and everyone know that is truth. And it came out of the mouth of Rastafarian."
-Bob Marley
"The first thing you must know about me is that I always stand what I stand for. Good? The second thing you must know about yourself listening to me is that words are tricky. So when you know what me a stand for, when i explain something to you, you must never try to look upon it in a different way from what i stand for."
-Bob Marley
"Emancipate yourself from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our mind..."
-Bob Marley
"The good times of today, are the sad thoughts of tomorrow."
-Bob Marley
"You can fool some people sometimes, but you can't fool all the people
all the time."
-Bob Marley
"Don't gain the world and lose your soul, wisdom is better than silver or gold..."
-Bob Marley
"Rise O fallen fighters, rise and take your stance again, He who fight and run away, Live to fight another day"
-Bob Marley
"The power of philosophy floats through my head, Light like a feather, Heavy as Led"
-Bob Marley
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 10:56 AM UTC
I want to find my Alaskan Sunrise.
Her appearance rare but burned into memory.
Whose warmth begins a new era in time.
Doesn't last long but neither does high tide.
Her beauty is an Alaskan Sunrise.
Burns away evils of the past.
Replacing my thoughts with a warmth that will last.
The light at the end of the month,
Tunnels of darkness a tricky labyrinth.
But I will find that Alaskan Sunrise,
All in good time,
As I wait out the dark,
Dreams of her warmth,
Warms the hollow tree's bark.
My Alaskan Sunrise will melt the dark ice cold,
Erase the old,
Replace with gold,
Hell, I'm already sold.
Alaskan Sunrise,
All in good time.
Jun 25, 2012
Jun 25, 2012 at 2:39 PM UTC
Poor little octopus.
Big head and eight tentacles
but no ***** ***** or testicles.
What's that, you say? Then how do these poor little cephalopods
buck such terrible odds when they feel like a ****** agenda
and they don't have any pudenda?
Well, it's quite simple, really. He hands her ***** on a tentacle
and what do you suppose?
She says, thank you very much, and sticks it up her nose!
Honest. No dinner first or shoulder massage,
she just whacks it up her nasal passage. You can be quite sure
this is an amazing olfactory aperture.
So the moral is, don't complicate a simple process.
When you're feeling frisky, *** need not be tricky.
Just consider the inventiveness of the octopus with no ***** or a ********
Because it's the ingenuity of the octopus, not it's ****** act,
that we should court. Compared to the octopus,
the human nose is naught.
It's too high up and tight for such naughty, wicked sport.
Also, such a human act is fraught with political incorrectness.
A gentleman who tries this little rort to get the girls to snort
and says, up your nostril, madam, might all too well
receive a rude retort. Or even worse!
I say herein lies food for thought.
Mike T Minehan
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 5:15 PM UTC
A demon masquerading
as the almighty dollar;
she is cunning,
and she is tricky.
She is beguiling,
and she is illusory.
Deceitful and avaricious,
yet believers follow
aimlessly. To have her
in your possession is
nothing like how it
feels to be stripped of her.
Those who succumb to
her seduction are granted
luxury and leisure;
the pledge to idolize
her mindlessly is
engraved into our brains.
Indigence, starvation;
the deprivation of the
green goddess is malicious.
Free yourselves from the hold
she has on you; from the
worldly power she possesses.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 7:20 PM UTC
The Bird is never still
Flying from one topic to the other
Her chatter loud and uncensored
Her friends twittering at her to be quieter
The Bird has many friends
But Birds always sleep alone
And cold
With their hollow bones
The Fox is the Bird's friend
The Fox is tricky
Weaving in and out of conversations
Gorgeous
And sleek
The Fox makes rabbits fall in love with her so she'll have plenty to eat
The Bird and the Fox are unconventional friends
Friends no one would think would click
But the Bird will chatter and chatter and the Fox will quietly sit
Listening to everything
Retaining information
The Chameleon is the Fox's and the Bird's mutual friend
When with the Fox they match their red
When with the Bird they match their blue
And so on
So no one really knows the Chameleon's true colors
Whoever you are
They'll match you
Blending in
A social camaflouge
That they think keeps them safe
And when together they are quite
A sight
Wandering loudly
Through the night
They are a strange group
And when together they're tight
Exchanging advice
Or judging each other
But never outright
You'll never catch the bird
But be careful if you do
If not gentle with your touch
Her bones will crack right in front of you
The Fox puts on a face
Bearing teeth and changing mates
But under all that glossy fur
She's scared that you won't want her
If you catch the Chameleon off guard
You might be surprised
What you see is never what you get
But if you look real hard
The chameleon will freeze and fall down to their knees
please, please, just like me
......
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 11:32 PM UTC
The master of emotion,
The king of the dance,
Hurried fingers add
A note of daring chance.
Molten happiness
Floats in the air
Like a passing good dream;
With never a care.
Now poignant,
Now sad,
How melencholy
How deep and drab.
Silver metal gleams
In the eye of the mind,
Lost an ancient battles
On which the sun shined.
Melodies curl around inside,
Twining round my arms-
This music can protect me
From any kind of harm.
Sharp, shrieking voices
Let out a scream
As they find out the world
Is not what it seems.
A starry night captures
A beautiful song
For a love through the ages,
The ages so long.
The smooth rythms
Of the everlasting trees
Whisper quietly
Throughout the leaves.
Musty notes
In a darkened room,
And sunshine floods
Into the gloom.
Music tells the truth
And the truth never lies,
But pianos are tricky
And their feelings they hide.
Anger forces the
Furious beats
Into the world
And off silent sheets.
Midnight and brightness
Float in the stars,
Connecting all people,
So close and so far.
Pure and simple,
Liquid notes
Fall in arpeggio scales
Through dancing dust motes.
A single tears falls,
Making no sound
As keys pull memories
Up from the ground.
Everything's so simple
When played in black and white;
The piano controls
My darkness and light.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 1:50 PM UTC
Mirror, Mirror
what do I see?
My demon staring
back at me!
That very same demon
that gives me fright
in early day coffee
and every night!
The demon is handsome
with devilish smile
Sad, they don't know
that this demon is vile!
There's times that he buries
himself deep inside
But, when he comes out
there's nowhere to hide!
The demon is tricky
at every turn
disguised as an angel;
ready to burn!
Fantastic achievement!
You're doing great!
The demon said, "Nope!"
then pooped on my plate!
You're doing much better!
Keep up the good work!
The demon says, "Whatever!"
Man! He's such a ****
When I tried to fight him;
my body would ache.
I've finally learned
that that's a mistake!
I made a decision
to let my heart mend
and welcome the demon
in as a friend!
You can sit quietly;
don't ring my bell
because if you do
I'LL SEND YOU TO HELL!
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 10:34 AM UTC
*standing on the threshold of change, I await a fresh-line
but the universe may be unready
if not, I may take to choppy-waters
all by myself*
1.
if we are all stuck in the jam of time
perhaps, if we spread it out real thin
some of us could actually lift off
and catch a ride.. out
free some hostage from the twisting temporal-joints
and the wool-gatherers mind their business
and footsore beggars dine on exotic-things
deep in the heart of the jungle
where Nebuchadnezzar parked his dreams of old
by saving your surprise for a weekday jaunt
we limp on in the vacant-dust of paradox
yet get unavoidably detained by the present
undo the ribbons and the package may unfold its.. things
espy the tick-tock riding the margin of fright
common sense of morn lies delightfully unfinished
and the wrong side of a bold idea gets squashed
the brain-weary ingest their lot and plough on through thickets of tricky-fate
while tiptoeing silent on the farthest-blades of brimstone
holding subtly aloft.. the frankness of aiding-spectres
2.
balloon of green, balloon of blue
hold out your hand and pray you get no inequalities of flame
easy catch of the sound of science scoffing in the parlour
when we try to do something different; take a chance
uncivilised-humour will argue the rings off your punctured-lobes
any germ of new plan must needs be nurtured
let any frenemy go; intolerant-ilk do better by their vacuous selves
remarkably convenient
there's almost enough water in the well
to soak up the ivory-rays and let them fly
and there's a breeze lifting the needle off the ancient-groove
spinning reels on the bay
*no, you will never convince me
that the time-keeper holds all keys
'cos I snuck out furtive.. late one night
and sawed through.. for a whole decade
and well, guess what I have here..*
:)
S T - 24 Jan 2014
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
The 3 toed sloth
Rhymes with goth
Or is it oath
Moves slowly
Sometimes algae grows on his head
Joni Mitchell didn't mean him when she said
Wild things run fast
3 toed sloth, he'd come last
Once a week he climbs down from his tree
And that's to have a poo and ***
Now sloths get amorous
But *** is tricky up a tree
He moves too quick, he's not used to it
And hits the ground involuntarily
Randy broke his arm
Kind people fixed it with titanium
He resumes his slothful days
But now he's more careful with his loving ways
Dec 31, 2011
Dec 31, 2011 at 4:18 PM UTC
(I Could Not Knot a Knot.)
My tale is one of tortuous frustration,
when two ropes caused me aggravation,
and my every effort resulted in a situation
that left me in a state of angry indignation!
Oh, what a knotty problem I had got,
when I found I could not knot a needed knot!
Though needing help on how to knot a knot,
no one I knew, knew how to knot my needed knot!
I had two short ropes - which I’d a need to knot,
and which I’d knot together with a special knot,
but it never worked, for the knot did not knot,
and my knot came undone! I felt such a clot!
Firstly, I took the ropes, which I twisted tight
together, but still the end result, was not right,
for when I tugged, the knot, not only fell apart,
but showed no sign of a knot! Making a fresh start,
I took one rope, and placed it firmly under
the other. This was so easy, I did wonder
if my actions should have been reversed,
for it too fell apart! Oh, how I cursed!
Seems tying knots is not for faint hearts,
for any knot, that’s not knotted, soon parts
when it’s put to the test! That I’m not a knot
expert, you can tell. Truly, my forte is not
that of being very good at tying knots,
for I do not understand what knots
need, to keep them from falling apart!
Tying a knot right, right from the start,
is important, and that’s why my knot
was not reliable, but why I did not
understand. Yes, I’ve tied many knots.
but they’re knots known as Granny Knots.
Other knots are what folks call a Slip Knot.
Then there’s the Turk’s Head - a special knot,
as is the Cat’s Paw, Clove Hitch,and Bowline.
Truth to tell, - none of these resembles mine!
Then there’s a Timber Hitch, which is a knot
that truly puzzles me, and not an easy knot to knot!
There’s many other knots, that need the greatest skill,
such as the Hangman’s Knot - a knot that’s made to ****
Whilst the sheepshank? That’s a tricky one to see!
So many knots, but they’re not knots for me.
Methinks of all the knots, the one true knot for me,
is the “Lover’s Knot”, which I have tied successfully!
Rhymer. April 24th, 2018
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 4:41 PM UTC
In a Strike
Lightning in Dice
I'm no Psych
Just a Mice
~
With a Slice
Be the Treasure
There's no Rice
But whole Pleasure
~
It's a Measure
To be Safe
Y'all Immature
Learn to Strafe
~
You a Waif
Me a Pure
Don't you Chafe
You Impure
~
Sea is Azure
Trust my Gut
But I'm Sure
I can Cut
~
Battle will Begin
Their's no Mercy
Who can Win
With no Thirsty
~
Don't be Nasty
Ships will Fire
They are Classy
Like a Choir
~
With no Tire
We will Roll
Do not Retire
That's out Goal
~
Burn the Soul
Fight with Urge
Do your Role
Let's Purge
~
We won't Merge
Enemy is tricky
To the Verge
Give them Hickey.
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 4:08 PM UTC
It must be a tricky business
it lingers, hovers stealthily
an invisible silence
a swift inhabitation
the soul awaits
to startle the body
In a wordless voice
it moves from room to room
turning lights on
spends a lifetime
ever longing
to be known
and heard.
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 7:47 PM UTC
First you need to learn that they are blocks
compressed meaning and solid like rocks
individual meaning expressed
but combined a new thought is expressed
with a suffix sometimes they merge
and become other classes of words
thus relate becomes rela -tion and added a ship
to relate something becomes rela-tion-ship
the prefixes un-, post-, and de- , be-,for-, and re-
alter words and direction, you see
but the real tricky thing
is keeping track of the strings
of meaning and –fixes, and inflectional endings
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 3:48 PM UTC
Even lions have the strongest hearts
But they still fall weak to lionesses,
A man’s heart can tighten in all parts
It only takes a ´touch´ to bring him to pieces
When a man falls weak to his world
A part of him has leaped over a wall
The tricky phase is to retrieve his part
Searching the world with an incomplete heart,
The finder of his heart is always his near-God
But finders only leave men in a melting ***
Men are known to be tearless
They don’t cry and in pain they remain fearless,
Men are fragile and sensitive
Listen to him and see the world in his perspective,
Men will live on ‘til the last survivor
Because men are forever…
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 12:40 AM UTC