A whiff of smell
You left in the air
Keeps aloft my sail
In the rough weather.
A hint of smile
You left in my eye
Drives me miles,
Keeps my spirit high.
A hope for warmth
You left in my heart
Still fires my hearth,
Refuses to depart.
A seed of romance
You sowed in me
Gave love a chance
To grow as a tree.

When you seek a dark spot
when you prefer night’s shadow
when you pray no eyes can find you
see the other man.
The other man,
he walks in the fire
with an erased past,
a slipping-fast present,
and a stale-bread future!
The other man,
who knows he has to smile
on his horrendous walk
through grueling moments,
drag himself on
along the summer asphalt
and not burn out his zeal for life.
When you seek a place to hide,
seek an asylum to escape,
find out the other man
inside you.

Run child run
beckons you the sun
the bowl of sky over the grass
are waiting with palette and brush.
Run child run
away from the popcorn fun
the deceitful idiot box
that so sadly chains you in locks.
Run child run
barefoot on the pearly dew
away from the virtual fun
to the loveliness waiting for you.
Run child run
far from the cyber fun
before the setting sun’s crimson hue
forever misses you.

As the sun rose,
vermillion on her nose,
weary from the night’s consummation,
she was by the seaside.
She smelled of a fragrance
cheap but astonishingly sweet,
her eyes incredibly melancholic
gazed as far as the sea.
The worry shadowing her face
made it look outlandishly beautiful.
He is sailing to faraway sea
whence many have not returned,
and here she is to see off
her fisherman on a perilous voyage.
Soon the boat crowned the waves
and merged with the horizon.
She turned back for her hamlet,
determined not to cast her eyes on a widow.

I lie awake in bed so still
Helpless i'm forced to take that pill
I cannot move, my fight is gone
I just listen to my favourite song.

My lips are chapped, cracked and dry
As my hair falls out i say goodbye
To those i love and who love me
Forever in my memory

But time goes on and they'll forget
The way i moved and the scent of my breath
So bury me in my favourite clothes,
My lady bird shoes and big clown nose

Then when Mama looks at me in my box
She remembers me saying
"I'll be an astronaut"

She starts to cry, as she only sees
The innocence that washed over me
So Papa takes her by the hand
And as she sobs she gives the command

My box goes down but i sore high
Me and my spaceship
Drift into the sky

To Whom It May Concern,

Silently I cry while she slaps and slurs her words.
You foolish child, you're no woman at all.
You're nothing but absurd.
You've called me names, you've bruised my entire being.
I was waiting for something to show me what you're meaning.
Why do you hate me? All I ever did was try! I try to take care of whom we love but still you're not there!
I'm fed up, I've had enough. You push me once more again.
I look your way and firmly say, if you hit, I will defend.
The power in your eyes enrages, the lioness has left her cage.
Your tearing and you're striving to tear this look right off my face.
It says " I will not lose, I will not give in."
And battles your folly pride.
I'll keep my face steady, even when the tears start to stream.
And even when you're sober, this look will remain.

It is the look of broken souls, crushed by lies & deceit.
Never have I turned away before, but today I am not the same.

Sincerely,
I've run out of cheeks.

It is in no way a coincidence that those who walk the path of a wandering soul will soon discover that their world does have its boundaries. They will one day stumble upon a definitive edge, a real place where space and time transcend one another to form a mere glimpse into the chronicles of eternity. For the wanderer, this slightest and most sacred instance is to become the reason for their restless instinct. Until the occurrence of this moment those of us who journeyed into the void of ceaseless unknowing that bears the title earth, have simply their raw gut to motivate a then objective-less pursuit. The frightening intimation of the young wanderer is nothing less than this pivotal fact. A kind of blind faith is required in all facets of existence however; it becomes a more literal and even physical leap for one to uproot themselves just to cast their entire worth into this most often vague idea.
For many months I was this young wanderer. A boy whom by the heal of his crooked step tripped into the life he only could hope awaited him. I cannot account for the reasons I left behind my past life. They, like most things have morphed into meager provocations when held again in the proper light. In the end it was my wide-eyed ambition and shear innocence that drove me from my home. That is reason sound enough when one is confronted by the crushing boldness of the wanderer’s theory. It is as if once the directness of this idea enters the well kempt garden of any youth’s consciousness a simple question becomes apparent. Will you heed this call or shall you forever wonder what this life may have held?
I shutter still when my mind should tarry once more to those long buried thoughts, back to the days of my constant and tepid self-reflections. I was so young and was that even long ago? This wandering life does change a man; it may even create the man.