the world of today is strange
it seems okay for lovers to have no trust
the public cares more about tomorrow than today
its okay to keep secrets from those you love
life has a different mean from the old

the youth is social
elders have cursed the generation
the same generation they gave birth to

being a parent has became ordinary
mother earth has more children than adults
who are we to blame?
mother earth is not proud of us

A smile as sweet as a choco lick
soaked in a juicy peachy blush
a form with curves like a meandering river
rushing in its youthful prime

Eyes which sparkle and instantly ignite
a passion with their seductive charm
lighting up somewhere deep within
fires of smouldering desires

Lips so lucid moistened with dew
softer than the rosy primes
ready to be writ on their velvety petals
verses with ecstatic chimes

This hilltop is just fine
No more mountains I must climb
Aspirations have peaked
There's nothing more that I seek
The feeling is quite sublime

........................................................

The simple song of a
sweet water brook
is symphonic enough for me

A field of hay
asway in the breeze
can tease me giddy all day.

Evening porch,
a rocking chair, of course,
watching the sun go down.

A little light reading,
and the sleepys bloom easy,
as wind chimes woocoo the moon

Hanging to a thread of sanity,
my heart was a broken glass,
leaking dreams of yesterday,
betrayed by fake friendship,
the noose around my neck.

I'm the shadow of my old self,
pierced by rays of harsh truth,
fading away into oblivion
along with the purpose of life
I once held.

I was falling apart,
a soul shredded,
discarded away from the memory
of the one I've lived for,
dying inside as I screamed
and wept a thousand tears.

FIRE

I am shattered and broken
beyond endurance
yet I feel the fire of life
still burning.
I am electricity; electric blue,
the elemental life force
and the essence of Self
that binds me to Creation.
I am the way of all humanity:
the Soul in a covenant of one,
one among all, all into one.

The night,
the road,
glare and rumble.
I'm deadheading
to the edge of west
where sunny busloads
of the buxom
and blonde,
reaching for stars,
giggle and stroll
the boulevards
of slow pungent fade
as last year's crop
do time
tending shops
and titty bars
and couch girls
moan for home,
and high school lovers

...easy pickings!

erstwhile seasons
like porch chimes
and rusted yard swings

this heat laze sips the
tranquil forest snows
asleep
the thicket springs voice
in creeks lucid luxury gush
how U drank in your
breath like a thirsty lush
the sun on dappled
chest dipped
the delicate pulse
of words and that
poised sculpt of
collarbone
the filtertipped light
in fingers glossed in
french pearl