First line comes as is
Rest try to arrive to be
Struggling butterflies
Rest try to arrive to be
Struggling butterflies
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Monday, January 6, 2014
similar
similar
I am sad not happy
Saying thus,
I hold the entire world
In my hand.
Sadness is a common gene
We have in our veins,
What an omnipresent morphine
That spreads from our brains.
I am sad not happy
Saying thus,
I hold the entire world
In my hand.
Sadness is a common gene
We have in our veins,
What an omnipresent morphine
That spreads from our brains.
Irrelevant
Irrelevant
Pelting a stone
Pelting a stone
Melts into a
river...
Flowers showered
on a stone
Fall without
shiver...
A little shift
in sound
For the notes
to sing!
Sense floats
above beneath around
Until
with its wing
It searches for a ground.
It's about irrelevance... like throwing a stone in water in order to hurt..
In sanity
In sanity
If a part is part of something,
It is also apart from it…
It moves so slowly bit by bit
Until the part takes everything.
If nothing’s something of anything,
It makes it all so credible...
Perfect sense turns positive when
Nothing is possible.
If a part is part of something,
It is also apart from it…
It moves so slowly bit by bit
Until the part takes everything.
If nothing’s something of anything,
It makes it all so credible...
Perfect sense turns positive when
Nothing is possible.
A silly note
A silly note
Loving the loved,
What so big a deal;
Liking those alike,
Not a great skill.
Loving the troubled,
To help them heal;
Liking the unlike,
To uncap the seal.
Easy to make borders,
Of crazy good and bad;
Those who give orders,
Are worried and sad.
The poem i know's blunt,
With childish old rhyme;
What a silly grunt,
From an outdated myme.
Loving the loved,
What so big a deal;
Liking those alike,
Not a great skill.
Loving the troubled,
To help them heal;
Liking the unlike,
To uncap the seal.
Easy to make borders,
Of crazy good and bad;
Those who give orders,
Are worried and sad.
The poem i know's blunt,
With childish old rhyme;
What a silly grunt,
From an outdated myme.
adultery without punctuation
adultery without punctuation
our eyes met
not a word exchanged of what we fully meant
our spouses asleep as it were, silent
we drew each other as off we went
what a shameful act yet how wonderfully built
we're doomed to stay in the awful guilt
we are such monsters we are such a cheat
it is also a couple defeat
our eyes met
not a word exchanged of what we fully meant
our spouses asleep as it were, silent
we drew each other as off we went
what a shameful act yet how wonderfully built
we're doomed to stay in the awful guilt
we are such monsters we are such a cheat
it is also a couple defeat
sublime
sublime
we're lying on the sand as though we're one
two as we separate we become none
our tongues are inside licking all the juice
the play's on the floor with joyful cut and bruise
we snail on the beach as though we don't have legs
waves giggle gaggle with their foam and their pegs
we just made it with our tools with our hands
born out of us are these millions of sands
we're lying on the sand as though we're one
two as we separate we become none
our tongues are inside licking all the juice
the play's on the floor with joyful cut and bruise
we snail on the beach as though we don't have legs
waves giggle gaggle with their foam and their pegs
we just made it with our tools with our hands
born out of us are these millions of sands
Just ride on
Just ride on
I would love to mount the horse in the sun
by the beach, in the forest, under full moon
out in the open just ride and ride for fun
Where are you hiding my puny little boon?
I would love to mount the horse in the sun
by the beach, in the forest, under full moon
out in the open just ride and ride for fun
Where are you hiding my puny little boon?
Sunday, January 5, 2014
In between a poem and a song
In between a poem and a song
A page of opportunity,
Just opened in symphony;
I go do re me,
It's a whole blue sea!
I don't follow the rhyme,
What sings in me is a tune;
A stage without sin and crime,
A tableau that's slow to be soon.
What I couldn't show but see,
The song within and beyond me;
With all its symphony,
Is on its own an opportunity.
A page of opportunity,
Just opened in symphony;
I go do re me,
It's a whole blue sea!
I don't follow the rhyme,
What sings in me is a tune;
A stage without sin and crime,
A tableau that's slow to be soon.
What I couldn't show but see,
The song within and beyond me;
With all its symphony,
Is on its own an opportunity.
other tongue
other tongue
I cannot take a word from its string,
It screeches so the speech doesn't sing,
I fail in its mist for the tryst unsung,
Poem is my other tongue.
I am in my time so I paint what is around,
Not a dead branch but a living tree,
I fly on the weather that guides on the ground,
Warmth shivers in feathers in a certain degree.
It screeches so the speech doesn't sing,
I fail in its mist for the tryst unsung,
Poem is my other tongue.
I am in my time so I paint what is around,
Not a dead branch but a living tree,
I fly on the weather that guides on the ground,
Warmth shivers in feathers in a certain degree.
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