Friends come and go

I missed you all… these long days…
summers came and went away…
where on earth?
in which corner do you stay…

never from this site go away…
tis for those who love the art…
poetry is simply just a part …
you interact with folks all along …
some scribble...
as if you to them belong….

long gone into the summers of life…
the evening is just a passing romance…
they come and go…
that’s all I know …
Some love …
a miniscule love to blow…

She'll walk in treating yesterday
as if 'twas yet to come,
and the past is due to something she just said;

then, turn around and giggle
for she knows what happens next,
so forgetting 'bout the future's best, instead.

In your eyes she'll spy a topic
that no-one else has seen,
as it happens it's profound and so obscure;

she'll then question how it was we came
to merely sit around,
and speak of things she barely can endure.

The final country

What comes to soothe in greater age?
A yielding to a thing once feared,

Closer to the final page
The story fading, ending neared

Another book is lent more credence
Something in the void is filled

Trumpets trilled to greater glory
For a place where pain is killed

Heaven then, a harbor for the aged
Gone now, life's trials and trouble borne

When does the hand let go the tiller
And drift toward that safer shore?

Obamerica

Greenish-grey rain falls with merciless zeal
on cracked tar and concrete, and rust-colored steel
mouldy-grey pigeons now fly to and fro
releasing their bowels on the vermin below

winos and addicts lay sprawled on the ground
some vainly seeking what others have found
half-naked children converge in the street
rummaging dumpsters for something to eat

It is back with a vengeance,
chasing away the cold wind,
The heat testing our patience
from the morn' till the evening

A season filled with frustration,
squeezing the last drop of sweat...
Mortals succumb to emotions,
tempers flared as hearts bled

Brazen fingers stripped Angsana
baring her limbs in lust
bruising too the fledgling birds
nestled in her cozy lush

When I walk this lane,
I feel the roughness of this path.
When I run on the track,
I feel the difficulty of my speed.
When I look at you,
I feel I can do much better.
When I sit all alone,
I feel I have something to do.
When I sleep in the corner,
I feel I should get up.
When I stand by my decisions,
I feel I am what I am.

Why is an OWL
a symbol of intelligence

because when the world sleeps
it keeps vigil....
no security is needed for it
and
when you are all awake
you know the guy is asleep
why trouble a sleeping dragon
let it sleep

and

so the intelligence emanates
from a night's dream
ask any poet or scientist

how did one solve the question
like the Benzene one
in a sweet summer's night's dream
the creator came clean

her smile,
her eyes
inviting.
her words,
even hello,
exciting.
but i can see the scars
beneath those clothes,
sense the cuts
bleeding out her soul.
beautiful girl,
why must you live
to die this way?
who cut you
to the point where
you are happy in this place?