I have been to the stream;

i have been to the mountain hills,

i have had dreams,

but there has never been someone like you.

I have once caught fishes,

i have snap pictures series,

all have eluded my memory;

but there has never been a picture so cute like queens.

I have seen faces;

i have once gone astray,

i had once played with the rains,

but i must confess you ain’t a mistake.

Thought the doctor says

but i don’t know if u know

that i am more than they.

Thought u won’t

but it’s gone.

Check it, it’s no more.

They never planned to be;

just too unfortunate like winds

yet they exist.

We are like them;

different from their fraternity

but of thesame faculty.

We can’t bark but think.

Who’s loosing?

These are the Universals

with different priorities and answers;

claiming to be nice but could be cancers.

But the particulars are now mere fictional tales.

They are unlike these implike men brains.

The jungle and the vegetations makes their logo,

rovering million miles from their homes;

I have a hope to carry on,

even if tommorow stop.

The storm has come;

i did won

but that was just before my fall.

My hope has come short.

I wish i could dress my hut.

I am in jail,

my tears wears

but don’t tell it to them.

My destiny i thought i could embrace;

even where i from i thought i could chased again,

but don’t cry for me;

i have already cried it.

The death sentence is real.

Nothing have i done to deserve this.

My grave have i been shown,

in a nooky pection

of the exfarth dawdry

sheaming tawny

ringent sky—

oh, my! oh, my!—

loingered stouds do cluster

to awide their gluster

to effake their rain-

dispeminating move.

who knavvies why.

their nerve instilled,

their brashness billed,

they’ll do whattything—

exclept perbee to sing!—

they, disluctant, theel so

forngly so comporced to

do;

Aft long days sans pure

And simple drinking water

Under blazing sun

And in salt-thick sea

Asporting with his friend,

The furry otter,

The kelphead

Sometimes at nights

Dreamt in bubble hues

That whenever he was

Not a lunkhead,

He was just a jughead.

(kelphead = a beginning surfer)

Starin’ at this piece of paper

waitin’ for the words to come;

don’t know what they’re gonna say,

don’t know where they’re commin’ from.

Ya know, I could tell ya

what makes me wanna write,

it’s just I get inspired

be it day or be it night.

My mother and my daughter

and my grandkids inspire "hope",

sometimes I’ll write about faith and God,

like when I’m runnin’ outta rope.

Or I’ll write about life’s lessons

or the choices that we make,

sometimes I peruse the topic of love,