Have you ever read someones poetry
That where you stand your brought to tears
You can feel the heart of suffering
They've endured throughout the years

Where they view themselves in writings
As a soul that's lost and weak
Not knowing to write the way they do
Is a sign of inner strength

Or how many of us they have helped
Seeing our own weakness through their eyes
And the struggles that we all go through
That fill these poets lives

I'm here in rhyme to let them know
Just what their writings do
And how many in our troubled times
They have helped us through

Why does the wind howl so loudly
Why can't the moon talk back
To the lonely souls with tear stained faces
Why aren't the love letters in vintage stationary with ironic stamps and coffee stains returned
Why are novels abandoned and potted plants left unwatered?
Loneliness is universal, and the universe is a hell of a lonely place.

How wonderfully mysterious the life is
A beautiful architecture,a puzzle,a bliss

I am a composer trying to write his song
But half of me is missing,
Surrounded by the crowd i still feel alone

I feel incomplete,my melody is scarce
I am drowning into notes to which i divorce

My other half...
I wish i knew how she looks like,
I wish i knew where her presence resides
But my soul is still rummaging...

It remains just the desire that deep inside me hides

oleander pale
in love with the scarlet
ardent against the gale

empty walls
chipping their paint
arms of war
had settled stains

tinderbox broken
for a half-assed light
baneful prayers
and their volume's height

artlessly, the breathings
of a craven deep in night.

i can feel your heart beat
the proof of your existence
lying against me
your breath
still lingers in the air
the December chill
makes me shiver
but its worth the cold
to remind of your warmth