The world passes by as I look across the courtyard, I stop to see the dry world passing by.
Kids riding their hoverboards, men and women making their way to their destinations,
all this with man-made machines shrieking the brakes to halt;
Funny are these DNA-embedded beings contending over who is richest, strongest and most influential.
This is where I am.

Wrapped up in your arms, fingers running everywhere;
The moist soft touches, blowing kisses in the air,
The warmth of your body that sets fire to even the cold October winds,
This is where I want to be.

The quilt that kept me warm has gone frosty,
The hair that ran like silk has gotten old,
The gentle squeeze on my hip stays forgotten.
Ripples of pleasure turned to pain, as I look back, that’s all I gained.
Looking at the dry world pass by; This is where I am, This is where I want you to be.

Her dark coffee-roasted eyes opened into a world that vessels magnificence, it wasn’t the other humans that created on her an impact of difference. She grew up to love the wind, seas and butterflies, she caught the moonbeams when she closed her eyes. She isolated herself from the ones that commanded words to be spoken, no one listened, and without a single word she left the locks broken. What she felt with the intensity of solitude, filled her with meanings that multiplied in magnitude. How could she explain the pure lightning in her veins, she wore a pendant of the world map on her chains. She was made to do incredible things you can tell, surviving within four walls was never her place to dwell. Things weren’t handed to her and that’s what made her wonderful, street by street she discovered what it meant to be powerful.

Mocking her tattoos, “art belongs on the wall”:
the ones she built around was her masterpiece and never let them fall. In the end its the things that **** you that make you feel alive, sitting on the edge of earth on a swing, she lived until 1hundred and five. Time taught the darling, of things that were loved bitter and sour, she travelled through the countries and living by the hour.

She wore a wing on her wrist, to her acquaintances she didn’t exist. She loved cities that made her feel like home, even on the bad days they embraced her and she never felt alone. Her lust for travel was deeply-chained, friending soils that didn’t constrain. She passed through it all like a ship in its form; Beautifully broken, this is how the sky felt after a storm.

Her dark coffee-roasted eyes opened into a world that vessels magnificence, it wasn’t the other humans that created on her an impact of difference. She grew up to love the wind, seas and butterflies, she caught the moonbeams when she closed her eyes. She isolated herself from the ones that commanded words to be spoken, no one listened, and without a single word she left the locks broken. What she felt with the intensity of solitude, filled her with meanings that multiplied in magnitude. How could she explain the pure lightning in her veins, she wore a pendant of the world map on her chains. She was made to do incredible things you can tell, surviving within four walls was never her place to dwell. Things weren’t handed to her and that’s what made her wonderful, street by street she discovered what it meant to be powerful.

Mocking her tattoos, “art belongs on the wall”:
the ones she built around was her masterpiece and never let them fall. In the end its the things that **** you that make you feel alive, sitting on the edge of earth on a swing, she lived until 1hundred and five. Time taught the darling, of things that were loved bitter and sour, she travelled through the countries and living by the hour.

She wore a wing on her wrist, to her acquaintances she didn’t exist. She loved cities that made her feel like home, even on the bad days they embraced her and she never felt alone. Her lust for travel was deeply-chained, friending soils that didn’t constrain. She passed through it all like a ship in its form; Beautifully broken, this is how the sky felt after a storm.

It is the excitement filled in a world full of opportunities,
It’s about taking a jab at a gateway of possibilities.
A world full of choices where you are invisibly naked,
a place where everything under the sun breathes money that’s sacred.
Where it doesn’t draw its shutters at night, there is always not enough daylight.
The difference that lies between a Lamborghini and a Swift,
it’s how fast you go, not how strong is your drift!

It is this place that I swell up in wordless pity,
At a pace which the grass grows in the warmth of a winterless city.
Fear of embarrassment that kept me from achieving legacy,
told me to stay down and accept my destiny.

Then one day the blue circle sighed into me some sense,
how I could take it lying down with no pretense.
Made a dent in a world that I told me I can’t rise above,
To jab-cross-hook-uppercut with or without a glove.

I maybe a nuisance I maybe a ****,
Yet I grow – while you may never sow a seed.
I am blades of grass down against the wind,
Proving nature’s law is not for the win.
Its not fair that I get to have this much fun,
I will not give up until my time is done.
Poems are made by fools like me,
but who knows one day where I will be!

Translucent stars get cloaked by the glittering elevation,
They douse the yellow burning on boulders that lack sensation.
A tin-plated bowl plays pretend as porcelain cup,
pressured by the maintainance of going up, up and up.

His loneliness came in waves,
every time he visited his brother’s grave.
This is biggest of reason why he took off,
to live across the desert far from the trough.
He pressed down every emotion and kept it pressed against the last, new ones began to take form with secrets of his past.
He had earned a dance with the devil, cursed by his days of revel.
He uncovered a million reasons why he shouldn’t stay,
For reasons he never figured, what was he supposed to do to not run away.

And so he left where silence felt like a familiar existence,
his doorway locked out from world’s insistence.
He lived far away in resistance from the city of daze,
a place where the yellow sunlight gleams, created a haze.
Surrounded by rows of empty parking lots lit by floodlights of reason, through his window he witnessed the metamorphosis of season;
In gardens of sober logic, he lived exotic.

His heavy casing of heart began to soften,
with every passing day he saw often.
He admired her from afar her glow was irresistible,
he drew close to her love like it was inescapable.
All this while he carried his burden with thorns of grief,
his heart had healed when he sighed a relief.
After days months and years, he lifted his hands to the heavens,
and prayed for all his sins that were left unforgiven.
The world spin around again and was not flat,
Look what happens with love like that?

Why did I fall in love with you?
Our souls couldn’t unite, but still lost in you was I!
You couldn’t be chased away from my dreams,
you couldn’t be sleeping in my arms at night;
still lost in you was I.
With flowers I wooed you every second,
With leaves I chanted your name by minute,
With machines I carved your name,
With knives I killed myself every night;
With envy I even murdered your knight,
With anger I endangered all in blood,
With guns I threatened your being.

My intense enigmatic love broke into pieces by the moonlight, The spear ran through your engraved name.
Words that flowed out my mouth: Sometimes killed my real self for it.

Souls collapsed in a darkness that blanketed the starless sky,
Giving up on humans that sold us life’s biggest lie.
Everyone loved exploring the sun when it was out,
but when darkness settled in, their minds grew in doubt;
No one wants to swim the waves, when jaws came out to play.
Everyone falls in love with rainbows,
we are all colourblind that’s the way love goes.
Love left her once but she’d imagine it over and over again,
contaminated her brood and they declared her insane.
She scribbled a few tattoos that symbolised the love she has tasted,
but they only spoke half the story of her love gone wasted.
Dead clouds painted on a wall at night,
she illuminated flaws in the daylight.
Her darkness was worth exploring,
her tear-tainted eyes daren’t ignoring.
They spoke of her in past tense,
she wrote blurred lines in all defence.
With dry cheeks in the summer sun,
she cried blood until there was none.
Little cotton puffs painted in silver outline,
she smudged colours onto clouds that died in a line.
How it played out in real life versus how it danced in her head,
her love would never return back from the dead.

There are poems inside of me, that the paper can’t handle,
Words that roar from within usually causing a scandal.
Pages and pages pour out from within,
Still losing when I saw myself to win.

Emotions rush through my eyes and lips,
Like a stormy sunset rising from the doomed ships.
On a planet in a new constellation,
I began to write in my own celebration,
Lost in the galaxies within my soul,
I vaguely slipped away from control.

My mind is eating away at the emotions surrounded,
Hers, his, yours and theirs all of them bounded.
Some borrowed, some enforced,
many thrown at me without remorse,
I prayed they would go away in due course.

I push and push away. I don’t know what will stay,
I don’t know what will sigh a relief, it’s time I choose my belief.
With blood splattered across the walls,the beauty of my mind is a terrible place to live in,
To this fragile side of me, I give in.

Most of my love poems are about people who never stayed,
you know the ones I begged for and prayed.
You think this would make me say something beautiful about love that lasts,
The people only become a leaf attached to you in your past.

When the infection comes, the calls come ringing,
‘Are you ok? What were you thinking?’
Finally a sickness that a doctor can detect,
The ones the sharp blades of tongues cause are of neglect.

I want to raise monuments of intellect,
To the nebulosity of poetry I pay my due respect.
For the ocean of words I carry inside of me must survive,
My fondness I, or you your power keep alive.

The quaintness of a bar in the heart of my city breathes an air of charming, old-fashioned walls, it echoes of the days and night I sat there drinking my gin and tonic pouring my words onto pieces of paper or into hearts.. it reminds me that modern life is convenient but the quaintness of certain walls never die!

You are Persephone coaxing riverbeds of lush green to flourish from each man’s desolate home
And as romantic as this seems;
if something isn’t your burden to carry,
You have no obligation to.

You may be tempted to pick up other people’s trash to spin them into gold,
but save some of that compassion for a rainy day.
You’ve got enough of your own baggage to deal with.
Heal yourself before you heal others.

To turn fifty shades of pink and red was too mainstream, so the skies turned blue with a single glance from you. Breathing a heavy sigh, she prayed for it all to be thine.

In between slurred words and short pauses, I tried to explain myself. Gravitating to telling the same story all over again.

A tale of how I said those words in vain, only to never have them last me pain. I prayed every time to be soaked by the city lights, to let me drench by the drizzling skies.

Every street light has a story of someone fuelled by never ending fury. Let me add one more tale to be written about a princess who failed, the one who bowed down and never prevailed.

'Her words are heard, not echoing wild in the void, her tale waiting patiently by the sidelines, yet to be told.'

My words fell upon deaf ears, silently understood by someone after years. The tear drops had disappeared from my crow's feet, I longed for the one who could make my heart take fleet.

'Long together with me, for the path seems long. Find solace in knowing there's company.'

This was an unfamiliar territory even for me. I only dreamt of what it would feel like when it drew near. My eyes saw reality for the first time, I didn't know what was to be said that would make our hearts rhyme. Should I straighten out my face, hide the crow's feet and learn to please? Now that I dint long for company, how does one keep the tease?

On a night among the trees, when you and I once meet, with drink and plants your mother nurtures, we'll talk some about some, and more...

In the crowds of colourful birds that sat in the tallest trees, every one of them prettier than the rest across seven seas. Metaphors and similes of their beauty, made the cracks on the pavement lay at ease.

One of them remained low because you can’t fly with wings made of gold in the garden of wild unruly souls. Like the bird whose wing is broken, you are the one that couldn’t follow the motion. You can’t fly like the others or blend with their feathers.

She sat in the roar of society, keeping to herself invisible to the quietly.
A part of her died accepting that she can’t fly,
that she liked it down here and being different.
But at times she just wondered why,
what is it about her that made her insignificant that she had to lie.
Broken wings cannot fly though I’ve seen more brokenness fill the skies.

With an aroma of anticipation and she waited there for her signal, the other birds strutted their formation and blamed her for her lack of imagination.

“Go ahead feathered soul”, he said. His feather shimmering gold, she lived in denial that this new stranger fell in love with her aura of survival.

Standing alone in the courtyard, there she stands swaying in the humid breeze, a yard in the open she is a humble to fragrant Plumeria trees. Oh how I loved the wind before he took you from me, tell me it was all false and stay awhile is my only plea.
You did a swirl and you twirled in white and yellow, only to turn me into a sad old fellow!

Well I’ve waited for twenty years my love, clinging to your hopeless memory, of how there was a day that came where you couldn’t remember me.

Where the peacock paints the green into the gardens with her crown jewels of blue,
She stayed there longer to watch the plumage of hues.
A canvas full of colours that are very loud,
Is this is what makes you so proud?

Funny how you cannot see your own beauty in the colours that are true,
Instead you see them in ultraviolet, not your royal blue!
She can clearly see, she had eyes,
Strutting conspicuously, it walked away showing off it’s prize.
It thrived where others merely survived, and never ceased to leave them mystified.

She felt like a splash of brown and grey in a room full of vibrant peacocks,
Never realised how time flies with the ticking of the clocks.
For even though she couldn’t fly, at least she knew she had tried.

It wasn’t a rushed lunch hour or waiting for one running late,
Everyone wonders why she is in this poor state!
Don’t pity her, it was a choice she made,
She didn’t bat one eyelid so stop throwing her shade.
An unapologetic introvert although not the socially awkward,
She sat at the table rewinding it backwards.

It was the hardest thing she had to do,
She has been living up to the expectations of two.
So she took a little walk, so we could have the talk,
While everyone else around her gawked.

She talked for long hours,
Solved numerous problems that leaned higher than these towers.
A soul that matched hers, the one she remembered in tears,
Enough fire to burn down a small town,
Sometimes she’d even play the clown.
They weren’t lovers nor were they friends,
They were in it for life and knew how to make amends.
It was her! Always had been, the daytime fortresses she built,
Set her free without any guilt.

It was the easiest conversation to start
and the most difficult to finish.
This is why she hid from the world and picked up where she left off.

She had been here before,
Didn’t expect company any more,
She walked up straight and said aloud, “Table for one, please!”

‘Will there be a join?’
‘No, I’ll pay by my own coin.’

Table for one and it’s completely fine.
She used to sit at it and eat and read and sleep and cry and wine.
She ate alone, blissfully unencumbered by any concerns,
And all the while the world turns.

She saw golden streams of sun melt into the distant palm trees,
As he sits there painting the mid-summer night’s blue breeze.

Glowing but empty, she knew its time to let go,
the anticipation of something new and the fear of being low.
Her sunset made way for his moonshine in the night,
So divine, he was her flawless knight.

‘I’m leaving you all the signs man of the moon with a crown,
To come find me before dusk seeks my soul and drags me down.
Say the word to describe the feeling of being bluer than blue,
Ah, it’s yellow in all shades of you.’

The dusk came;
And the lonely yellow moon hung over the humid April breeze,
the night grew colder and his stain made her heart freeze.
She let the silence calm her pounding heart,
And let the clouds do their part.
Hiding behind she saw his yellow,
Watching his eyes emitted tones of mellow.
Wearing his layers of sadness in plush,
He gave her insecurities more reasons to blush.

He was the dusk and she was dawn,
they’d never met and only appeared when the other was gone.
He was enchanting and made the stars twinkle,
He made them happy and even made them giggle.
The earth spun it’s magic,
Her golden glow stayed a tragic!

She wrote a note to herself today.
Before the moon bid its goodbye to it’s kind.
Before the world had a chance to wash her mind;
With pending tasks and bitter words that made her wrong,
Telling her how this would only make her strong.

She wrote it before emotions took over,
Before she said her name to the barista as a coffee-lover.
Before she had the choice between hope and optimism,
And sip into all the criticism.
A simple sentence that would resonate within mind;
before her eyes witness normality,
She wrote a note of what she wanted the day to be in reality.

She was not greedy, she tried to be kind,
Everyday she made up her mind.
Only to cease the day,
Yet be humble and not prey.
’Tis true that she wanted things her way,
She knew the dark clouds would not stay.

On the days it was hard to breathe,
She took a look around at the papers beneath.
Between the bills, payment sheets and cheques,
On the days she felt life was a wreck.
‘Breathe woman! Everything will be okay!’ she read,
This is how she knew her life wasn’t hanging by a thread.

Pungent coffee stains with the magnificent for company,
I spill a drop in a background of shiny metals creating an orchestral symphony.
Sitting in the boulevard I chase words into poetry,
Alongside the parades of chaos singing a different symmetry.
I write of sunsets, birds, kisses and seas,
I even write about branches on broken trees;
Of tales where the hero is the villain,
and those who felt pain in dol multipled them a trillion.
Of lonesome characters that wrote letters of love,
they even defied their gods above.

It was his eyes that made me drink black coffee,
no sugar, no cream, not even toffee.
Deep, dark and bitter was the way he was;
I even went to ‘Home Bakery’ just because.
Decoctions of coffee comforted my freezing moments,
heartbreak came to me in brief installments.
Like most of my men with no names,
my heart burned without any flames.

I love him like I love my coffee,
and you must believe me when I say
I will perish like the aroma of the first brew.

Her story doesn’t hold up in the light,
she spent her life losing every fight.
Shadows were more of a friend than a foe,
though without the light, she always stubbed her toe!
She was quick to blink when the light shone too bright,
Kept her eyes shut until the brightness faded regaining their sight.
She was made to believe she couldn’t handle the light,
Couldn’t blame her, the nights were her delight.
She hung around with worms that glowed from their bums,
her tears and pain they would always numb.

The vaults of heaven shot illegal fireworks through the celestial skies, mysteries of the universe with her eyes shut still gave her butterflies.
He looked at her like she was the brightest light he had ever seen,
jars of light guided his heart to a love that had never been.

In the shadows with her eyes closed tight,
he whispered to her, ‘I’m here to make it alright!’
Unsure if she can handle it, she shut ‘em tighter,
he came closer and the light only got brighter.
Her naked eye saw light for the first time,
uttering words that made no sense or rhyme.

There was a moment between his glance and their lips,
where the world stopped so they can kiss.
Her eyes spilled over into a flame,
with every tear a fool she became.
A sign of affection, an act of lust?
Kiss after kiss he turned her to dust.

She lies to the world that the five percent is all there is to sea,
but she wanted him to feel the depths deeper than there was to see.
She needed him to anchor and not let her slip like the sand through finger,
She needed a love that left an everlasting effect linger.

He stepped on the same grounds,
Looking for a love that saved him from his drown.
On the outside he was tough as steel,
Deep inside he could no longer feel.
He hummed songs from the spirited waves,
Drove deep into them to rescue her from coral caves.

He was the Persian Gulf and she was an Indian Ocean,
Yet they breathe salty summer air and gaze at the same clouds in motion.
She flew the skies, wondering if she lost him behind a floating cloud,
And went into places, she knew she wouldn’t be allowed.
Meeting him would be a miracle she thought,
Her chances were drying out faster than water during a drought.

There she stood at the Arabian Gulf in the warm sea breeze,
There was something about her that put his heart at ease.
Breathing the raw summer air,
Locked in his view paralysed by the depths she saw in his stare.

He lifted an empty shell and poured the ocean in,
His charms travel pore to pore and loving him felt like a sin.
Her eyes had storms that were painted in grey and silver,
Knowing she felt the dagger, his love would **** her.