There's something about the night
it brings darkness that allows you see
silence that helps you hear

There's something about the night
that sets you on a high
you can almost touch the sky

There's something about the night
that shields
no insecurities, no fears, no rules.

Just you and the night.

I know I've said words
My mouth just went too loud
I'm sorry I'm not proud
Planet earth is too round

I will take you to my house
But beware there you might see a mouse
I've never thought you down to earth
Always took you as a snob

Do you blame me?

The other day
You screemed seeing a cockroach
I even got scared to approach
Maybe you need a coach
On
How to be a wife?
How to hold a knife?

In the flood of faces gushing from turnstiles
Each of us sees the other with vacant eyes
Acknowledging we have seen and not seen
Through one another’s mask, each with a task
Known to our silence, deep in thought or dream;

How some faces speak so humbly of desire
Longing for the palpitating heart on fire;
How the old hide their scars of aging romance
While the young boast their youthful staging;
And there is you, there is me, a chance meeting

There is no day no ray of dawn,
nor yet the dimmest hope,
where every joy of life is gone
as man’s content to mope.

Though I may suffer every pain
in bowel, head and heart,
where is the point or any gain
in letting peace depart?

Yes Death may ever stand near me
to read my every thought,
where each day is a blessing free,
I'm happy with my lot.

Just Let him wait and bide his time,
I would not him arouse,
contentedly I write my rhyme
as ever he allows.

Do you know
what it feels
to be hollow,
to linger unseen?

I am one
with the dancing wind,,
a careless whisper,
the voice, unheard.

Trapped
in the cage of self.
Forsaken dreams
denying me peace.

Can you save me
from the reign of despair
where loneliness and emptiness
walk hand in hand everyday?

Without science where would we be,
still eating grubs and a stray berry
while seeking shelter in a tree
owning just what we can carry?

But thinking in a rational way
has advanced us with its myriad answers
to the place we are today
a world in which we seem the masters.

Those facts which pointed the direction
what were they they answering for us
Who or what supplied the question
how is it we became us?

In mulling 'bout the season's gifts
Say, plums and sun and all its gain
Thinking it will never end
The season that shall never wane

Sitting near a Redbud shrub
Shielded by this summer tree
A bird collecting all his friends
And picking them from every tree

The squawking gulls; I hear them say
"It's cold and so it's time to fly..."
The endlessness of seasons ends
Summer, now, is turning shy...

Wow moving is hard
So much shit
Do i need it
Houses are vessels that hold
Too
much
Crap

I feel like packing into a bag
Throwing it in my car
And venturing far

A pen a book a pad
My passenger seat
As my writing reading nook

The rain on the roof
To send me to the back seat
For slumber

Why don't we create
Carparks for creatives
Where theres a communal tent
For us to rant and vent

But society dictates these places
Are for the homeless

I sank in the ocean of my tears,
when you left me under the torment of that lonely night.
Bounded by loneliness and fears,
my peace and joy took to flight.

Amid the frightful frigid night your name i screamed,
but your ears you shut and remained soulless,
this horrid act towards me i never dreamed,
after you vowed your love will be endless.

Anyway, whatever. It’s effortless.
Effortless as taking a subway ride
down to the shylock merchant
Who claims he sells pool lights,
those hushed green ones above
the stick and you, a dreamt coalition
of heat and present tense action.
He threaded the place with lanterns,
each one genie lit so you can see
them burn during the day,
Through the dark windowpanes.
He said Americans don’t have mystery,
or some shit like that, and he gave me
the money from the back where a lounge