You've always been the pen
that wears my weary thoughts
and turns them into words~
cool and warm,

the umbrella
that protects my head
from bad weathers
and from rain,

the pillow
that holds up
my dreams
and releases
the strain.

Now you're not here;
absent and far away,
my words feel cold,
I'm weak, tired
and soaked in pain.

an angry face of four and twenty
slacked, defeated
eroded by karma's vengeful smacks
and disappointment's relentless howl

as he would say

a luck insurmountable
dragging, yanking
incomparably worse by far
than joan d'arc's own standards

as he'd tell it

each red light an opportunity
that's shooed at every green,
hope at every shared glance
met with cold closed window,
unsated, his hungry hand
stays

as his story goes

I do not like it.
Everyday it has that cold stare.
I want to break it to pieces.
I want it unrepairable.

It lives in my room,
hanging comfortably on my wall.
Disturbingly circle,
round round round.

The dawn came when I finally decided,
to kill the demon.
I smashed it to the wall,
'till it was no longer recognizable.

I had my sleep.
I woke up without worry .
I was relaxed and happy
...until I saw another one hanging.

the power of drugs
be it kids stuff
or
docs medicine
overpowers some

and
words flow as if from no where
mind vomits its hidden essence
as the stomach churns

then we feel all inside out burns

god knows
who did what and when
many can't even say amen
but your thoughts are no omen

they come alive like lightning eyes
and
shear guys minds
my greatest one over here..
hope you do still hear
if not endear...

The Body is composed of many parts
and it needs your gifting of talents;
open up your spirit and heart…

to provide God with holy service.
Don’t waste your earthly talents
with hardness of heart or disservice.

Find your identity in Christ!
Feed on the fullness of His Word
and enjoy His eternal Life!

Become part of Heaven’s story,
by allowing yourself to be…
Used for His Glory.
.
.
.
Author Notes:

Loosely based on:

I don't understand my own sex,
sometimes.

In India and China, girl babies
do not hold their value like rupees
and yen. Hardly more
in other places, behind burqas
and desks and military posts
and kitchens with three children
clinging and a husband emotionally
absent.

Fallen Angels

into a place I stepped darkly
no fire to light my soul
and as I deeper fall
into a world I don't know
I claw at walls invisible
broken and bleeding
lost to God's promise.

Lightning clashes
Thunder booms
sky drizzling rain
upon the moon

I walk among creatures
of the night
Among things one
would never see
in daylight

You dream of us
waking in a cold sweat
thinking
we are things
best not met

Bed sheets are soaked
they seem Alive
Start moving around your throat
to tie

You gasp trying to
Scream
sounds of your resist
Swallowed
by a dream

the rain reverie
glitters
shattered
between an hours
shadow

your bruises
are twilights trophy
crescent proclamations

lipgloss
and perfume
you wear them proud
lifting your chin
to plumb my depths
with your emerald
eyes

I can smell
beauty and rain
see the gloss
and hear your pain
wrapped round
the gauze sequined
words

expulsed

like steam raised
from the hot flesh

of happiness

having traversed this continent
over so many decades and years
I feel happiness
is a consequence of some important things

Firstly
its food, clothing and money brings in happiness to many

Secondly
as teens grow up
to become young gentlemen and women
Sex is the longing
initially it was love of mommy and siblings,
If any
replaced by pets

Thirdly
in the long run of life
work aside
a hobby is must to pass
most of the blank time