Those who joke and make people laugh
They have sorrows in, on all others’ behalf
Blind Side
My blind side was surrepticiously touched,
My foolish ignorance was irresistably watched;
I can’t bury the “Star is Born” sign,
Will she be mine? Or at least fine?
Incidents instantly dog-ear in my mind,
To pay the blatant aggressiveness in kind;
Tonight’s my sixth wedding anniversary,
The longest night of the year to remain sorry
Life & Death
Life:
Theft of fountains by the wind
Freedom of rainbows
Life:
Picture of nature on fluid purity
Doubleness of beauty
Life:
Flirting of water with the banks
Fricative sacrifice of the coast
Life:
Pregnant clouds conceiving freshness
Then the scent of soil cuddling the rain
Death:
Climbing of the mounts
Sovereignty of darkness
Death:
Sharp ships lacerating the froth
Absence of purity - AWOL
Emergency Alarm:
Human in sight !
Cuckoo, Cuckoo, Cuckold
To Go or Not to Go
Flowers shall travel your way no more
For you spoiled the reason they were meant for
Occasions have faded away in my heart
Or you can just wipe away my part
Offspring, a hindrance to your salvation
To get rid of this wild lower-class nation
Decision is yours, to go or not to go
This is the problem, to the fiend or the foe ?
If I deflowered your purity, sorry
If I invaded your security, sorry
Sorry does seem the hardest word yet
If I recited not this word with clarity, sorry.
Put the promises you faithfully made aside,
But for the bills of love I paid, S.O.S;
But for the bills of love I paid, S.O.S;
Put the altering yes-no answers you replied aside,
But for the patience I honestly applied, S.O.S;
Put the heart of mine you put aside aside,
But for the S.O.S. I loudly cried, S.O.S;
Put the word of love you did never recite aside,
But for other lovers’ love I did never requite, S.O.S;
Put everything and everything and everything aside,
But for the goodbye song my heart will sing, S.O.S.
Their heart’s got so many rooms,
More than a brothel’s.
Pumps the pimps into the street,
Where there is heat of the meat;
And strumpets trumpet their sex;
Here the call of the mild,
Is just a red-carpet deception;
And God is in his crevice
For frisk is only a risk
Now new year’s coming,
This spidered street
Needs a sweeper’s treat
More than a brothel’s.
Pumps the pimps into the street,
Where there is heat of the meat;
And strumpets trumpet their sex;
Here the call of the mild,
Is just a red-carpet deception;
And God is in his crevice
For frisk is only a risk
Now new year’s coming,
This spidered street
Needs a sweeper’s treat
I have asked my God one of the two things,
Because man’s life sometimes stings;
An express ticket to hereafter,
Which will make many burst into laughter;
Or a saddened life of a wonderer,
No one to take care not here not there;
Former will terminate latter one survives,
Either case happy will be people’s lives;
God’s decision was sent instantly at me,
“This is your destined future to be:
Because man’s life sometimes stings;
An express ticket to hereafter,
Which will make many burst into laughter;
Or a saddened life of a wonderer,
No one to take care not here not there;
Former will terminate latter one survives,
Either case happy will be people’s lives;
God’s decision was sent instantly at me,
“This is your destined future to be:
An old wondering white-water rafter,
In the never-calm rivers of the life hereafter.”
Short black hair of fire,
Covered from the eyes of unwanted desire;
The more the look casts,
The more hiddenness blasts;
This fire is provoking,
Yet there’s no need poking;
The eye is destined to wait,
But how soon it gets late.
