A (chance) meeting in the bustling marketplace,
asking only specific directions of her.
He bowed gracefully and low, removing his hat
Inquiring as to where he could find the cinematograph?

"If it's culture you seek, visit one of our museums..."
She harshly rebuked: viewing him as a lower societal person
taking him aback, putting him on the defensive track
coolly, she suggested he purchase a "Street Atlas" from a vendor!

In my cup, three
Stars have fallen:
My fellow's verse,
A wisdom I've just learnt,
And your smile.

Oh fair lady fierce and true,
Locked in the mirror,
I see you.
A portal to another world,
One wrong glance,
And your beauty's left unfurled.

Sweet maiden, with your locks so fair,
Against complexion as pure as snow.
What lurks beneath perfection,
One shall never know.

And at the junction,
where face meets eye,
A solitary drop of moisture,
Like a pear drop left the sky.
In its hint of sadness,
Thoughts sit tangled in a web,

There’s a tap in the back of my head.
Like a dripping leak no one can fix, and the thought I meant to catch
goes skidding into the air, its arms flailing, into the ditch of half-formed lists.

What was I… Never mind.
There’s a person in my brain reciting trivia, about oceanic krill and polar bears.
The structural integrity of Victorian bridges. Brunel, he built bridges, lots of them, still standing today.
I think he’s stuck in my left hemisphere, that’s an interesting word. Please shut up.

As a projectile
on its trajectory
the very kernel
of this heart’s history

unfurls and beckons
to those who’d care
allows for both sides,
their minds declare

each line, each verse,
each accentuated pause
all bring together- - joint longing:
their inimitable cause

With her i will stand.
Like a tree my roots
Are unconditional to the end
My resolve is a comenment
that will not bend.
Because with her I stand
I will hold on tight.
When her darkness needs a friend
I will show her that my love will not bend
Because with in me I hope that she will find her on roots for a life of peace to begin
That my love will not bend

I treat myself
like I am a normal human being
like I have normal feelings and emotions
because that is the way I feel.
It wasn't like this
three years ago
but it is like this today
right now.

The peace and serenity
in which
I am located
is real.
The way
I love being
with other people
and connecting with them
is wonderful.

While I am by myself
I no longer feel alone
nor do I feel lonely.
I have made the changes
which have improved
my life.

When you claim my face as your prophet, I must warn you
I am not. I am a kitchen maid’s tea towel.
Left at an open window. Stolen by a feral dog,
buried in dirt, where time pressed its mark.

When you look at clouds, your mind sees patterns,
Remember that. One day, I was picked up from the dirt.
Jesus Christ,
someone muttered, and here we are,
that prophet has held my threads tight ever since.

When a poet takes up arms
their quill is orphaned quick
though the pen is mightier
the sword some bards will pick

however just the cause may be
forsake their weapon true
to lose what makes them free
sad the day when all is through

Oh, is anyone there?
I want to throw away
This pain I wear

I’d settle for a drop of hope—
So small to see,
I might need a microscope

If I could find a place to sit,
My demons wouldn’t quit
Even if I pressed "exit"

Could you walk by my side?
It’s okay if you say no—
I know it’s cold outside

I’ve grown immune
To storms I had
To crawl through

Where can I drop this load?
For ten short seconds,
Before my mind’s volcano explodes