Poetry – Page 30 – SIMPLE WORLD

Hard to go out without nothing

In the end, space is the destiny
An infinite to the wasted void
The stars fight for our freedom
Do you see them not rage?
Dripping on the falling dew
Grandiose with the music that swells
Heavy with the bucket of tears

Ride with the tides
Or stay stagnant with the waves
Free trees, paid exercises
Reminisced envelopes, prime talking
Bound to have all that was never wrong
Tired of nobody to have never had love for
Empty with the silence, henceforth

Tie the knot of hope
And pray to wear the brace of admittance

When do the birds do come

When do the birds do come
For every time I whisper
They sing
All thanking the skies for the berries
Praying after the rain had gone
They drain away yesterday water
To the caterpillar, it flows down
To the green leaves, it performs a stagnant tradition
Dancing, enticing the dew of the morning

When do the birds do come
For the time I see the sun
The heat rises from my left side
Blowing wind to me
The crisp warmth of light
Letting the plays from the talking drum ring
Flowing with fresh soup
Hot to mouth, afresh for breath

When do the birds do come
For the evening, frogs croak
Happy for the residing sun
The returning snake shakes lips
Praying for the fruits of tomorrow
Words from the creaking flies
Biting the ears for a chance to listen
Humming for the light remaining

When do the birds do come
Maybe until the coming of sun
Silently accepting the visit of night
A night blissful with dark

let the love die

Our distance closed

The aisle burning

The chapters folding

Building up to a crescendo of emptiness

Structures forming, residing sunshine

Filming moments of yesterday

A scene played too soon

A method of acting, they call it

Can we go back?

To when it felt right

When all we did was dance

Pouring laughter, lashing anger

Raw and free

Lucky ludo

Though we had shelter

The hunger we had

Was lost in the showers of monsoon

Heat to skin, lips to cheek

Breast to chest, hands to bare ass

The clear signs became dust

An end to us

Hearty emoticons to us

Right here in the dark

Mingling legs, scratching toes

Hoping the love never died in the theatre of dreams

So I guess it’s just another

Unresolved face to face

So fade babe,

Fade

Let the love die

A September in Saturn

Bold fire, burning temptations

Brown bush, growing seeds

Smell of wash away

The taste for silk skin

A girl of night dreams

Something we have

Brings to life

Balance or solace, maybe

Something in you

Makes me want

To engrave a kiss

On your shoulders, or thighs

In difference

Strong connections, wetted lips

Reddened for interference

Coherent with the bliss we make

Yes,

The bliss we make

Makes us indifferent

Our stake in time

Our fate in show

Our names in September

The Crying Guitar

Tears from a string

Another morning preaching the word ‘disaster’

Fragments of recurring wrongs

Southern dilemma

Hands held high

Buckets filled to the brim

Colors mismatched with red and gun powder

Feet of soldiers, prints of herdsmen

The fuss going all night

Bringing the finale to the break of dawn

Last time I write these words, I pray

fly away coated angel

What are bridges?

but roads

Down to the woods

The world becomes a cabin

Boxed in from world hunger

There, the soul never felt so empty

All along, the world’s light was never bright

Dim

Neither redeeming

Only a facade of mischief

So run rabbit, run

Back to the woods

Yea of layered coating

The lion prowls hoping to sink teeth

LOVE LOST

And I can redefine all that I thought was lost
Another chance, another try
Transcending all my sins
I rise through the stairs of suffering
Regaining my boldness
Proud with a painted black luxury
Another made anew man full with discontent
Paralyzed by the recurring deceit
The tortured souls all cry
Why them?
Lord of the skies, why us?
Come down and stop this crucifixion
We long to move past this boulder stained with death

Scripted cripple
Hungry for white manna and black bread
Rivers always parting
All skin and milk
Falling Jericho
Singing Mary
Crying baby
A never ending tale of delusion