"Love on Sloppy Grounds"

 "Love on Sloppy grounds"

Distant mother, your hand

Walked me down lonely paths

To pick seeds of sorrow  

Sown in the days love was at its peak of excitement

One seed smelt like promises that failed

The other like passion on the bed of deceit

You kept quiet while, I, an indigent child

Picked pain like nuggets on a sloppy valley

Every grasp injected me with your own malady

Until I began to walk silently like you

We not holding hands again 

Walking differently on similar paths silently.

Until it was time to embrace the fate

Your shrill voice broke into our cherished silence,

"Silence is an immortal response to all forms of pain"

I swallowed something bitter and walked head on. 

"Yours in Everything"

 "Yours in Everything"

 I sit forlorn in the dark,

Guiding my thoughts to return,

To the ways of sweet memories and you,

Hoping to find all that we left behind.

Like the soothing touch of your hands on my troubled soul,

Or the river-like calmness your laughter brings when it fades away,

I recall these and walk further into:

Your silence as your listened to my dreams

Like a child charmed by a fairytale,

To the time, you bent your ears to listen to the sound of my kisses on your neck,

And you leaped like flames to embrace me.

That morning before this nostalgic night,

With bags set for a journey,

Tears withstood the passion in my eyes,

I tried to muster a word but I needed your touch.

This one touch that leads to everything...

Though we seem apart from eachother,

It shouldn't part the ways of our heart,

You should hang our memories on your walls like I do,

Every stare will stir fervently our longing for everything we share.

Your in Everything.

"Ambitions and the Dead"

"Ambitions and the Dead"

 The cold night breeze gently blows

And tosses aside this black shroud

Unveiling shadows trying to hide their true frames

From a world they have lost touch with.

Strangers, you might want to call them

Held bound in a twisted faith.

Straining to reach a light

Shining far away in the horizon.

Quietness sits calmly in this darkness

While thoughts war with eachother

Outburst, screaming and screeching sounds

Like wheels out of control on a highway.

The man lies there without life

His heart wrenched by a famished spirit

Living within his bossom

Starved by his quest to be and to have 

Death is a path way to a long dark silence

Of the human soul, and its freedom

From all the chains he put on himself

In his quest to be like the living he dreads

"Flip me Like a Book"

 

"Flip me Like a Book"

I want to craft tiny smiles on your face,

Whenever we cuddled together and spoke in deep low tones,

Listening to the vibrations of our hearts.

Your eyes saw through my thoughts like a plane glass,

Of all the wishes I wished we could do,

Unknown to us was how much we looked alike inside.

The fire in your eyes spellbound the one in mine,

We blinked, turned aside and smiled,

Then looked again but it still rages.

I let my hands trace the contours of your ebony body,

Awed by the artistry of the beauty that sits on your skin,

And the radiant smile that cocoons me into your embrace.

I trembled as my fingers caressed your hips,

But you threw your thighs around mine and pulled me closer,

Closer I guess kicks fear out of the door.

I asked you to flip me like a book until each page exhaust you,

You took my hands placed them under your cheek,

And you said, "Flip my mine first, because it is nothing different from yours"

"Road to Hell"

 "Road to Hell"

Now everything we began has ended,

The stereo no longer plays our favorite tune,

The sweet memories we created were erased,

Immediately we turned our backs on them.

The darkness of tonight has barricaded light,

Placing a chasm between sorrow and joy,

So this gloomy wind blows on the land,

Tossing and turning out our hidden secrets open.

I strolled out of my hut to look through the darkness encircling me,

To see if I can find any footprints retracing the pathway to my abode,

But my eyes couldn't see beyond the darkness within me,

So I staggered back to the defeat I left behind.

You left at the heat of midday,

With the fragments of my promises to you,

I broke them in my haste to fulfill another I made before you came,

So you actually rejoiced over another's war trophy as yours.

Don't think my heart as stone,

They are still tender as the feet of a dead baby,

I still long for you like a besetting sin,

Holding on to my only road to hell. 

In life, do death part people,

So they go about living the death,

Relieving youthful memories interned as an old one,

Until they embrace a new life with their mourning attire. 

"Redeemer"

 

"Redeemer"

A stick of wood, dry and stricken by the smites of the sun,

is thrown into a raging fire,

Despite its cry rose and fell repeatedly,

It falls in with no hope of a rescue,

Then the flames began to lick it up ,

With it a tongue cloven with redness,

Until all that is left is ashes.

He comes quickly, a saviour,

Gathers the ashes cold as death,

He smells it foulness and decay,

Then scatters it into the arm of the reckless wind,

And it settles on all direction of this sick world,

To rise someday another tree of dry wood,

Same way it met death before its reborn.

"Walking Tender Paths"

"Walking Tender Paths"

Falling in love with a poet is weird-some

He begins by writing you poems in the night

About the fire in your eyes, the honey on your lips

And the passion with which he would kiss each one of them.

Sensual right? But a poet isn't a blind lover.

He sees-talk everything in between

All are part of falling in love, 

nothing is left out because of public cry.

He mourn your silence with a line

And writes a sonnet secretly to you,

Whenever you break a pound in his heart,

He uses every word to woo you back

And serenade you with the rhythm of each pause

And flow back into your conscious with every rhyme of his lines.

These "dirty" children of his emotions

Locked in the closets of his imagination

Are unseen by public eyes

But resound in the memory of the beloved

And embraced in bed during nightfall

As a figment of all that could be but are not.

When a poet falls in love with you

He is timid with his words

When he stands before your gaze

But audacious in his writing 

When you stand as the muse of his piece.

Poets in love loves the journey

From when your quarrel lays them in bed in sorrow

Or when you cuddle beside them in cold nights,

To when they sulk seeing you with another.

They want to own you solo

Like you are the world they live in. 

Poets may never know how to love 

Like you want them to even if they try 

Their love isn't a sprint

But a sacred delicate journey of hearts

Every turn is laden with joy inexpressible

Or pain deeper than can be described.

(Dedicated to a poet-friend: Pretty Jewel)