I wish that I had written letters to my mother
like my sister did
I wish that at least one of the dreams I had
came true... for her

I watched my crazy dreams crash and burn
you know,
where I was rich and famous
could buy her stuff...

I'm sure that my mother knew how much I loved her
but I know
I left scars on her heart, and even though she said
they had healed, I saw them

The sudden desperation begins to coincide with her words--

Words spat out with unforeseen madness,
As she pleads them to submit to her, the submitter--

She, the appeaser.

"Are you listening to me? I, your assister?"

"Do my wishes, my beliefs, become transparent?"

Yet, the receivers refuse to rationalize their claims--

They wait for her submission,
regardless of her aspirations–

And rebuff her affections.

There is a road that
I ride on it is rough
It seems so far away
miles ahead of me
It is impossible to
find the way
through the tunnel
sometimes it feels lost
to know where to go
I refused to give up
to take the initiative
to remind of myself
always stay positive
to keep things going
finding the right direction
to the successful path
persistent is the key
when it comes to
face with challenges
to stand up bravely
overcome obstacles
accomplish the goal

I like Charlie-
Charlie talks to trees.
Never understood why
he ventured,
'tween Camilla's-
knees.

Guess you "had to be there."
when,
ying became his yang,

Diana wasn't looking
then.
Camilla's legs went -- TWANG !!

Yeah,,
I like Charlie-
Charlie talks to trees.

Now he's a fully paid up member
of the lumpenbourgeoisie.

Obi

Fast past, dancing
thru pools of shadow
dawn is coming on strong
people on the street escaping
to the places where
they feel that they belong
with just the time they need
til night comes back around
waiting on thier dark refuge
walking home alone
watching the sun pass
thru the sky
as another day whispers
a sad, sad song!

Fast pass, dancing
thru pools of shadow
dawn is coming on strong
people on the street escaping
to the places where
fhey feel that they belong
with just the time they need
til night comes back around
waiting on their dark refuge
walking home alone
watching the sun pass
thru the sky
as another day ends
whispers a sad, sad song!

I'm building a castle of thoughts
That will survive the taste of time
This is intellectual task of the mind
That demands internal decorum

Poet's mind is an ocean of wisdom
Whenever he decides to dive into
He finds his finest artistic jackets
And sweetly swims in poetic pool

Poetically, a poet is a wordsmith
He hides under literary garments
His choice of words is his tool
And cannot be clandestinely taken

I was dressed in school colours, bottle green
On my first encounter with Sister Pauline.
The habit she wore and her stare intensive,
In making me silent, I grew defensive.

The courage I had, was pulled straight from my soul,
with Sister Pauline demanding control.
In her weird sayings, she was purposely hard,
And the words that she spoke, I’d disregard.

I made a garland for my love
from flowers that she could wear.
A rosy ray of sunshine gold
to crown her lovely hair.

The band was made from marigolds;
the odour was so sweet.
With fragrance of a lemon tree,
was good enough to eat.

An ankle bracelet next I wove
to grace her tiny feet.
It sparkled on a moonlit night
and suited her a treat.

An icon screen I built for her,
to kneel before and pray,
adorned with sacred marigolds,
with saints all in array.

My mind wanders off again
The blurred lines of
reality and fantasy
Imagination
Stark reality
Flying high like a kite
though I hold on
with all my might
For the wind, it blows too strong
Little voice is the loudest of all
Wearing her cloak
Of invisibility
She wants to be lost in the crowd
While my true self
hovers like a cloud
Waiting for the rain
for the clearing to begin.