A friend, she is, with heart so kind,
A soul so warm, with peace of mind.
We talk for hours, time slips away,
But in my heart, something starts to sway.

I wonder if she sees, if she knows,
How her presence in my thoughts only grows.
It’s strange, but I think, as time goes on,
There’s more I feel than I’ve let on.

In every petal lies a tale untold,
Of grace and power intertwined as one.
A world of wonder, fierce and yet so bold,
Where love and strength unite beneath the sun.
In these eyes – I’ve seen a woman’s world…

___

It’s a rose, enchanting, blooms with beauty rare,
Yet danger lurks within its soft embrace.
A tender touch of love, a whispered prayer,
But I ask if it has the strength to hold its place?

Still in quiet thought, I dwell and muse,  
As a man reflects on such; alas his worldly views,  
My words a burden felt heavy, and steep,  
For in such a world, my voice shan’t speak.

hello?
you there…?
i can’t hear you!
we haven’t talked in a while, it’s true.
thought i’d remind you - the rent is due.
maybe… have a shower, or two?

i wanted to -
let you -
know that i haven’t given up on you.
though i’ll admit, it took a lot of work -
to finally get through to you.

it was brave what you did,
and stupid at the same time;
thinking you could make the climb,
holding on to your gratuitous rhymes.

it takes a while to see what's wrong
with all the ways you've known all along;
it never hurts to take a little detour -
ask for help, when you're not too sure.

don’t be too ******* yourself,
take it easy.
not everyone will see, or get,
what you see.
move around -
pick up a book -
or better, a blank page.
let your purpose take the center stage.

just one thing before i go,
perhaps, it’s good to let a few things go.  
anyway,
thought you could use some counseling.
come to think of it,
were you even listening?
hello?
you there…?

Beyond my current state lies a distance
that feels even more distant than my
aspirations. A day of tranquility lives
solely in our daydreams,
beckoning the fragments of my being
to come back, urging my thoughts to
gather once more.

____

I am the void that lingers between the
stanzas of a flawless poem—words that
falter in their imperfection.
My voice is silent, with so much
to say - a paradox that leaves me frozen;
lingering moments before revealing your
vulnerabilities. Oh, the despair!
My faith lies fragmented and adrift—
these whispered prayers sway back
and forth, yearning to hold significance.

____

Do I hold any significance at all,
composed of the very essence of atoms
colliding in a chaotic dance?
"Dissolved," I melt into nothingness,
like ice under the sun, reshaping into
the visage of any soul that touches me,
flowing like water.

          Alas, I seem to be dead again!

Scorpions and frogs
And drownings
Are a timeworn warning
Against trusting the cruel,
Unkind, and ignorant
Or being surprised at their nature.

I always read the parable
And faulted the frog
For trusting a scorpion.
"Never I, nay never"
I thought
And swore i would be better.

Now i look around
And i see
Im in a river together
With frogs, and scorpions
And maybe a chimera or two.
And we're all drowning.

I don't know right now
Who to blame
Or whom to turn to -
Maybe thats the problem
Or maybe
It's just my nature.

As the searing, ashen smoke erupts violently from
its flaring nostrils, it envelops me in a suffocating
Embrace, each inhalation a cruel reminder of the
scalding heat that sears my delicate skin.

I am crushed beneath the weight of its colossal hooves,
like a forgotten stone lost in the depths of a murky,
Unyielding puddle — its foreboding silhouette, crowned
with a mane as dark as the abyss, gallops through the
Labyrinth of my thoughts, casting a chilling shadow that
clings to me, a relentless spectre that whispers of doom.

This creature, a true harbinger of death, exudes a frigid,
acrid scent of regrets that seem to claw at the very core
Of my existence — night after night, my dreams are invaded
by tormenting visions, vivid and unyielding, mapping out
the grim path to my own funeral – a foul stench; chilling
reminder of cold regrets that claw at my very last breath.

I see a pristine white coffin, adorned with stark white
blooms, marred by the crimson stains from my own wrists.
And amidst these agonizing dreams, the ominous beast
stands tall, solemnly bearing the weight of my coffin towards
An unknown afterlife, a spectral horse of death draped in
the deepest shadows, embodying the very essence of my
self-inflicted demise.

Life is circular, even for those untouched by the realms
of faith or spirituality— every moment secular. Let us exalt
the fervour of true commitment, warn the youth against the
allure of materialism — my attempts of such were a mere tip
of advice, too blunt for those who didn’t own sharpeners.

I see of the stillness and shadows, that leaves drift silently,
nameless in the breeze; they grow increasingly embarrassed as
they succumb to decay. Yet, from the **** talk of human chatter,
the refuse of their speech can still be turned into the fertile ground
from which life may sprout. Even as the curtains descend on the
grand performance, the essence of existence continues to unfold
in the shadows, a narrative the world may never truly grasp.

Close your eyes and let your heart sketch the tableau—fold your
arms to spare the world further anguish; as the youth, armed with
lessons from their screens, race onward. They'll drive forever, though
forever is not a human art — lovers whisper, “I’ll love you forever,”
yet the cracks remain of one’s broken heart.

Let us pay tribute to the hour’s accord; strike a chord like a pact—
though not one forged in Lucifer’s handshake, bartering your soul
for a fleeting piece of existence in this world. Raise your sword,
sun-kissed and gleaming—this pen that can colour the world in
vibrant hues, a dream so vivid, yet never forget the wildness of
this realm; humanity resembles a chaotic zoo.

reality is all that exists.
context is the curtain edge of
the proscenium.
the play is
you and I
performing every day.
ovations and uproar
are all just noise in the end.