poems

She said to me please never change, I simply said I'll stay the same. Then spent my whole life wasting days, so sad, but still I can't complain..................... The rainbows come after the rain. And hearts will mend after the pain. You'll always lose more than you gain. Please have no fears, don't be afraid. Seek the truth before you blame. And swallow pride inside of shame. You'll learn to live, you'll be okay. But learn to love the simple things. How can a rainbow make the pain flow, and d rag you down below. How can a sunset, make you upset or alone. How can a calm breeze bring you to your knees, when you're down and weak. How can an ocean make your emotions long for the notions of peace. Why is it that I'm sad, or even get mad when things are bad. I guess that life is planned for reasons we can't grasp. Time is of the essence, forgotten in the past. An hourglass of sand simply flowing through my hands. A pleasant peasant, the s...

Way past the seasons, we're cold here on our own. Winters we are lonely, but we are not alone. We stagger and we fumble, I guess that it's the fall. We've been here once before I think, hell we've been through it all. For what this life has taught me, I can't replace a thing. I spent my days wasted away, god damn I miss the spring. But summers not upon us, I'm sure that it won't last. But seasons come and go my friends, so make the good times last. Some people will love you, some strangers will care. Despite when they judge you, with feelings impaired.

No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just come out on the other side. All living things contain a measure of madness that moves them in strange, sometimes inexplicable ways. This madness can be saving; it is part and parcel of the ability to adapt. Without it, no species would survive

Last night, I woke up missing you, at 3am, from back in The Day, when lust hung down to my knees for you, drunk, and in sweat, and in sway. Just might, I thought, try kissing you, but be ashamed, turn back, perhaps pray, then just fall down on my knees for you, hunk, but no threat, had his day.

Shakespeare had rightly stated, “There is no vice so simple but assumes some mark of virtue on its outward parts.” Hypocrisy has almost become the middle name for each mortal homo sapiens. Multiple thoughts race through our minds always and amidst this abstract conundrum, the most important ones are often relegated to the abyss of oblivion. Ubiquitously, each one of us is working for some vested interest with that unexplained sword of Damocles constantly looming large.

She peeped through the glass door In agony and dismay Her world was tearing apart It was no longer hearsay Glimpses of those moments Flashed before her eyes The happy ones, the memorable ones She stood frozen and scandalized Can we go back in time? Reset and undo One last chance So that it can’t fall through The thumping pain, the quantum leap The unnerving thoughts, the inner conflicts She has to settle them all Not add fuel to her inner skeptic What if she loses him forever? Only time will etch its tale The entire nation prays for a brave soldier As his wife waits in desperation for victory to prevail

The Last Lines With silent tenacity I will lie When I write the last lines They will be dignified, harmless cuts On an old and kind face. I compose but words are no more Than coffee grounds in the last cup Of a banquets urn They wear gold rags these words They cover nothing much, they are useless In dressing the nude flesh Of every moment spent In servitude of truth. I will lie for the sun is a lie That warms the world The idea it rises for us Is no more than thinking A bridge is the gorgeous dream Of a river.

I compose but words are no more Than coffee grounds in the last cup Of a banquets urn They wear gold rags these words They cover nothing much, they are useless In dressing the nude flesh Of every moment spent In servitude of truth. I will lie for the sun is a lie That warms the world The idea it rises for us Is no more than thinking A bridge is the gorgeous dream Of a river.

The desperate angels beckon, Forlorn in rusty desire,  Kneading need patiently, Strong-handed, Angels of dusty sorrow In a ditch of half-remembered days, Hands fluttering as bats stutter In the evening; The desperate angels beckon In chastened attire (Though black as the heart of the matter); My hastened tomb bears witness Of my last breath; The burnt embers reside in the shadows Of the room; The windswept angels of the moor Bind my fleshmade shroud; Horses glisten in the blackened rain; Steam rises, blending with the mist.