June

A PARAGON OF SOPHISTICATION

colorful-1325264_1280Even if you don’t understand my footsteps

Adore the way my body sways

Even if you cannot see my perfection

Remember I started this journey, naive

I have walked the narrow road

And fought with iron rods

I have climbed mango trees to hide

Waiting in silence for my attackers

I have trampled on fear and regret

And given birth to the end of worry

Your visions may not shown you my mission

But I have not earned this title by mistake.

 

Why do you look at me with questions

As if you can repair my painting

Why do you call my art a child

As if you were there when it was born

I have learned the signs of the ink holders

Those who drape words with mirth and wisdom

I have met heroines of good fortune

Who never let depression impress their spirits

I am dancing in the rain of these days

Though always believing that the sun shall shine

I am becoming a paragon of sophistication

Even if you first met me in naivety’s mansion.

March

MANY FACES OF DOUBT

___ Omnibus Fragmentary Imagination Of an Anonymous DREAMER_ Troubled Mind.jpgMaybe this blessing is a curse
Maybe being alive is death
Maybe glories are only defeats
Maybe laughter is purely pain.

It’s been a long ride waking up
Picking plates and cracked cups
Dialling numbers and placing calls
Shuffling papers and writing letters
Sitting by the phone and staring at the door
Imagining outcomes and staying hopeful.

Maybe hoping is only being helpless
Maybe morning is only a melting wax
Maybe this dream is only a peaceful nightmare
Maybe I’m just an inventor of maybes.

Uncategorized

THE BUD THAT ALMOST DIED

On why that a flower has to wither _ My Journey.jpgEarly Spring brought the showers
Which healed the sick withered leaves
Which survived through the harsh dryness
That had long crushed the spirit of hope and faith
But with careful strides, the rains erased the faeces
Long deposited on the ends of fresh buds
Their withering souls found their meaning
Their dilapidated dreams found renovation
Their abandoned rubbles spoke to their siblings
And together they resurrected to immortality.

That bud, your soul, your young soul
Once used, abused and jilted
Smelt the fresh breeze of a new day
Inhaled the fragrance of flesh on bone
Tasted the truth in its rolling prime
That bud, your soul, your essence
Once beaten and almost killed
Drank the broth that awakens
From the sickening sleep of stagnancy
To a life where all is fair and fair.