Man is man
Gold is yellow
There is nothing like gold
In colour black or white
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No man is more stupid than the man who says
In fact no war is justified let alone to say everythingNor is justified terrorism by any meansNo war is different than any terrorismBecause terrorism is war and war is terrorismBoth are the one and sameThe killing machinesThe products of the same evilIn fact both are brothers opposing each otherIn between their wrestling only men are…
I get a wish
To look back the trackI have travelled so long so farBut I got the trackUnder some unwanted coverA little bit of it under the heavy mistAnd the rest of it perhaps I forgetWhen I want to see aheadThe road appears like a snakeDances at every cornerWith darknessThe vision is blurredEven the straight line pops up…
A lot of praise and admiration I got when I was full of innocence
Keeping head straight, running life difficult a lotSensing the senses makes me a bewildered pot.Unknown pricks me, the soul is heavy and restlessThe world appearing suffocated ruthless.Sentiment creeps in, around hard blowing the wind.I do not know how to cool and keep quiet my mind.Easy life becomes hard,Thinking gone absurd.Depth less burning, calm less itching…
Poems are not the fleshy, juicy, tasty fruits
In the backyards in the fertile land of your gardenThat I have to buy thoseIn whatever shapes and sizes you sellBut they are the productsI produce tooIn a large scaleIn the factory situated at the back of my mindIn many colors,Shapes and sizesWith different fragrance and tasteMay be they are different than the stuffsYou are…
Unlucky unfortunates
Beggar of the beggarsBegging love on the roads.Don’t keep begging loveRather give me your love, allI shall lend it to my heart and soulJust to plant to grow in multipleJust to return with interest along with the principle
Life
Sucked up all the elements of lightIn the abyssA crone lies in the dark, pitchMystery of all the mysteriesNo mind over there ever reachedMother of all curiositiesLower of the lowestSad of the saddest waveBrighter than the brightestNo heart over there ever reachedIn the zenithA beautiful fairy residesWonder and surprisesHigher than the highestJoy and delightI know…
families carrying guns and Bibles,
living on the street.
rich man, well hid,
cocktails made of blood and oil.
tyranny, mass slavery,
bodies buried, American soil.
and the hands on the clock
crawl like justice spurned….
tick tock, tick tock,
mercy gives what mercy earns!
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if only i could hear…
but the cry of that which feeds.not the pounding of the guns,but the silence of peace.not the tears of the homeless,but the sound of hammers building shelter.not the shuffling of money,but the sound of needs being met.not the cry of the sick,but the sound of healing.not the voices of anger,but voices in dialogue.not the bitterness…
do you know what love is?
that still tastes like you!the sound of thunder,as snowflakes dance to the ground.the wet stain on cardboard legs….ah, yes, and more!the words that only silence knew,barefoot prayers, and clouds of breath.forests lost in shadows,in eyes both timeless and raw.the scent of perfume in the book on the shelf.tis fire that must be touched,must be tasted…
i know…
too busted up to be pretty,hard headed, opinionated…headstrong and stubborn.i fall down a lot,but i get back up.keep on walking,eyes set hard on the goal.passionate, a little crazy,sensuous, starving, touching,daring the forbidden.folllowing the sound of the flute…and the footsteps of the Lover.maddened with desire,soft hearted,yet demanding justice!ready to risk it all at any time…compassionate, driven…listening,…
what if i just walked away?
at your doorpulled my hat down low,turned, and walked awaywithout a wordsomewhere wolves run in packs,and whales swim togetherand birds fly south, wingsbeating in unisonbabies are born to young coupleswho hold each other in aweand the homeless man underthe bridge watches the sun rise.and an old man plays his guitaron the porch his grandchildrenplay in…
what we call love…
an hourglass,on a bare table,in an empty room.what we desire…total and recklessabandon,drenched in touch!what stands between us…the tight grip of your handson your bags!
we who sit at the feet of angels
with no hand to hold against the night,no kindred spirit, no flame of hunger.we speak, there is no answer,only the waiting that sweats & weeps.the formless bound in a thousand faceseach yearning to be held, and named.we who sit at the feet of angels…and drink alone…