Me
And words
Don't get along

We are like cats and dogs
Or rather like water and oil
Mixing up
A lot of times
Not very well

I cannot explain the way I feel...
Today.

These feelings are complex.

It's no longer,
the I feel sad or the I feel happy.


It's more of
I'm in reality
and in the imagination;
as if I am
stranded on Mars
but roaming my dear Earth
while wondering if
the internet
is a safe place


I mean, it also has walls
And there's also a police

Plus, the net
is supposed to capture...


Yet,

Here I am

Captured

within this web

Of

Poetry.

Am I a criminal? Or am I some prey?

Why am I here Today?

Our love were weeds just growing strong with time
In fields that people often dare not walked.
Therefore, we lasted long, our love survived.
In fields that people then began to watch.

Our love then grew with winds that changed our life
As squalls began to break our stems in halves
Therefore, we lasted short, our love then died
when roots became uprooted off the ground
In fields that people then begin to walk.

You were fire? No, you were water.
And in you, I dove.
And in you, I swam.
And from you, I drank...
till I drown?

But you weren't just water. Were you?
You were fire.
And in you, I walked.
And in you, I ran.
And from you, I burned...
till I died?

But you weren't just that...were you?

You were the fire and the water.
You were both, simultaneously.
You quenched my thirst for love.
You extinguished the flames of fear that devoured me each day
with your water of love.
And when the water rose, and too much love was drowning me,
you evaporated the waters, with your fire of trust till I could have my own space to breathe...

But you weren't just that... Were you?

You were also the air.
The one I breathed in.
The one I breathed out
every day?

You were also the earth.
The one that I walked on.
The one who supported my weight?

You were the four elements in one.
And in turn, you became
an important element in my life.

When you see the sea and a poem,
It makes you wonder doesn't it?

Waves of thoughts begin to form...
you can't help but noticed
that the majority of people prefer Poetry that is raw...

It's as if writing or reading a poem creates the effect as if those written words form waves that come towards the shore of a sheet of paper...

And if the reader is unprepared, those waves can ebb him back to where the waves come from

And drown him in the sea of thoughts

bouncing like a ball
on hallway while mother shops;
yippee, yup! said, who?