Fish in aquariums make me dizzy
they swim in circles as though
there is somewhere to go

I pity their hopeless journey
someone should tell them
it’s all a trick

But most of all
they’re reminiscent of me

How many circles have I spun
how many times have I thought
I was going somewhere?

And we return back to square one:
where windows are grilled and
hierarchy is based on what you wear.
where movements are restricted but
thoughts run wild without restrains.
A square is not a circle.
But yet,
Acts like one.

Things come in full circle. 

Life is humorously ironic.

It's been a while,
A good while,
But it's back.
There's nothing I can do
I'm helpless in thinking about you

25th august, 2016.
   I am not mute; I am one who writes things I feel in a spellbound manner.
I am not dumb; I speak so loud through the words i scribble down.
i am not fragile or mild; i am the bravest man alive. For only thr
bravest dare to write how they truely feel without minding who reads.
I am not full of flaws; I make mistakes so i can learn from it and
rise to a greater hieght.
I am not the villian; I am the hero who seeks to protct you from the
unknown through my words.
I am not the dictator; I am the light to the masses for i am both
leader and slave.
I am not just character and pages; I am creator of a world you live
in through imagination of my pages.
I am not a literary excuse for being a waste to humanity; I am with
gifted hands, holding firm the light of truth and just, directing to
the right path.
I am not just another madman on the streets; I am the most san person
with so many vast interpretations.
i am not a trouble maker or a vagabound with no use; I am just a
peace maker who seeks right what is wrong.
I can exist in times and places I choose to because I am who I am
  I AM A WRITER1

She slept still on the cold bed
Her fragile frame was forever fixed
The sullen smile on her frown face
Crowned her earthly end
An emblem of victory gained in demise

The somberness of the ominous knell
Ushered in the undertaker for his task
To amass his masters latest loot
Fallen along the weary long way
A rose bruised before its bloom

The lamentations of the little lass
The groan of the grey gentleman
The solemn sympathy of a stranger
The clergy’s confession of her circumstances
All a label of a life led in liaison

The strongly sealed sepulcher
Bears the remains of her mortality
The epitaph on it concise as her life
A testament of her times to lingering legs
On rock engraved on hearts chronicled forever

The worms that merry on corpses
Shall soon party for their spoil
That skin so tender shall decay
From this world she carried eternal hope
And though she is dead she shall live.

My heart yearns for an adventure
For a strange and rare venture
Oblivious of the tons of dangers
For in adventures I ain’t a stranger
For I would relieve childhood years
That I spent with my little peers.

An adventure in distant lands
Where the children play with wet sands.
And dolphins jump out of water
When the noon sun makes the ocean hotter.
Where the fisherman yaw his boat
To capture all the salmon afloat.

An adventure by the oasis in the Sahara desert
Where Tuaregs sit by the cactus to eat dessert.
And watch as scorpions prey on lizards
To feast on their gizzards.
I want day sun to warm my smooth skin
And the night cold to shiver my crude chin.

An adventure cuddling cold snow on my hand
Where the icy pillars in their majesty stand.
And make a cave of snow
Strong to stand when wind blow.
Then I will scare the polar bear
That my cave like a paper wants to tear.

An adventure on the corn field
When in summer the flowers yield
When the butterflies pollinates the corns
And the farmer weeds out the thorns
I want to watch the corn spring to life
When the early rain is rife

An adventure across the sky in a plane
And watch as daylight slowly wane.
I want to leave a route on the sky
That in the future I would still ply.
Then immortalize my name in the cloud
That dark clouds in their anger cannot shroud.

An adventure deep in the amazon woods
When the purple squirrel burrow for food.
Where the monkey sway their tails
And red roses litter narrow trails.
I want to watch the ants builds their mounds
As the ripe mangoes fall on the ground.

An adventure that will lead to places
Leaving on all its paths my traces.
Permanents prints that will last
Even when my life like history is past.
And my adventure would be told as a tale
That like time will not stale.