Tick tock, tick tock, time is nothing
Time is nothing its just a matter of tick tock
confusing a new generation inside a transparent sock
when one is lost in a space of no return turning into an obsolet stock
Broken into different figures of nothing
its seconds you realize you still something
or nothing that turns into a flash of bling and bling
There you go again counting meaningless`
steps, paces faces and laces fearless`
slipping into a broken minute of stress
When you get to a point of realizing that even a broken watch
has the right time twice a day its time you march
to an instance of contigency and superior match
Tick tock, tick tock, time is nothing…
Obama and I share the same Mama,no Drama!
I wish I was a soldier,
Standind on a ground bound by the very same fate…
Bullets flying low like a wounded butterfly,hate…
a powerful tool misused, perhaps the way it should, not, maybe to the contrary
Waking up from a long sleep, caused by fatigue and fear to live a life of broken shell´
hidden from all is a way to understand truth as it lies on a colorless spell
The force which drives a Man like Obama is the same I acquired from my Mama
a proper dictation of how things must be carried out, its an order, so be sober!
Its hard to fall asleep if one is still to awaken to the very same accustomed fate…
regardless, its said not to be a word, but I remember that time is often late…
When ´change´ arrives its like a storm, slightly better than Catrina, she is merciless,
but a storm is friendly, merely cleaning the evil thoughts cruising reckless´
on all´s path, patiently protuding searching for a point of acess
I dont want to be a soldier, no more
The fear of determining a person´s faith is a easy one…
I want to be a social, smiley, not yellow, but
admire life form all angles, being able to create rainbow shaped metaphors, deceiptful, never!
Obama and I share the same Mama,no Drama!
La Retired from Storms
La Retired from Storms
Tired was I inspired by Him
To have retied from the team
That desired me to dream
To be fired up for EloHim
I beard the dead in Sprit
Scared to have dared to commit
To the head which said: Submit
To Me so I thread and fed with no limit
Like Christ who raised not but slept
During unsieged waves while disciples wept
Their faith minimized with a misconcept
It was exercised and calmness didn’t accept
Their fear and Christ had to hear
Noise so He will appear to catch your tear
During your stormy year thy storm has an ear
To adhere when Christ says: Disappear
While in mine violence I cherish
My moments of silence I punish
My waves to show signs of vanish
While the loud sirens perish
I reap my sleep
For that’s what I sowed I heap
This seed for when issues creep
In I’ve got no time to weep
This storm that may form
My Kingdom could seldom
Make me roam around my home
To mourn but it inspires a poem
Bright night
A star at night shining bright
Seems warm, not cold, as clouds unfold
scattering now left & then right
illuminating emerald hues so I'm told.
The mist is even visible at the night
as mist mysteriously winks at mister cloud
savouring the mystical contrite
masterfully masting a mere shroud.
The pale moon white hugs horizon tight
beyond the sun that once was gold
basking with fright in universe's light height
holding attention so beautiful to behold.
The emerging night light
creates a romantic mood
where the soul catches flight
where once heroes stood.
One does not need to be affluent to be cute
as the clock points a finger in moving a hand
and after sunset what's the purpose of a mute flute
as the cock crows morning in a farway land.
Dismal dreary prairie
A dismal sheen
illuminates a flock of birds as they fly
on keen to lead, others been between
descending, then ascending in the sky so high.
Further yonder's visible a shore lined ocean
seemingly living as waves seem to breathe
and tides come in motion
leading to believe there's fish beneath.
A river's flow finally expediated
travelling from prairie to sea much cheered
past homes dilapidated
and fields of corn cleared.
The next of kin's akin
to wear clothes spun & made
for the occasional merry din
or a picnic in the shade.
On that far prairie
in fair weather every day's the same
as God's creatures are free
to go as they came.
Drifts amidsts clifts
The breeze gently drifts
seemingly slow
amidst cliffs
to knowingly go.
Then a storm uprist
raining a full cup drop
with the mist being trist
in dull & hollow doleful stop.
What was last now is first
perchance engaging in penance
as mercifully clouds do burst
not charging no pence in trance of penitence.
Cleansing water's an element sent
meaning no less as waters bless
turning lament to sentiment
trespassing in the silentness.
Drifting winds do so with constraint
billowing in innate figure of speech
not bothering to exercise restraint
as the wind the fair breeze pauses to teach.
Until the will is stilled
The still waters flow still,
lions pausing to drink growled
at a young buck approaching water at will
having been heard as though howled & scowled.
The once leafy tree now serves as a pole,
voices are quited previously loud
what happens to man's soul
when such wanders over a cloud?
A lost treasure is seldom returned,
in silence sound is bound,
no picking has been discerned
in arching a straight line into a circle round.
Man's spirit passed on's referred to as belated,
corn gold foerever loses the green
in progress loss is abated,
the hidden's not to be seen.
There's distiction between are and were,
bad is realised in absence of good,
in perpetual motion what's here's now there
and of necessity to ignite fire would use good wood.
There fears here
There fears here,
the old is lost in renewing,
where everywhere's waiting in queue
on cue of one's own doing.
Hear what will rear
when alone is one
ere you lend an ear
to off and on.
Past that peer a steer steared
to an island with the sea around won
walking on a pier that miraculously appear
having set out to achieve what was done.
The fisherman threw a spare spear at a fish near
under the moon ironically visible at noon
and peered at what from beyond horizons appear
while listening silently to a loud bassoon.
In fear visible nears, then disappears,
adding two to seven also makes nine divine,
don't heed restless gossip in gossamers & meres
as darkness emphasizes a glimmered shadow shine.
Surround sound around
Within a circle round I was walking around
when unexpectedly a person came
dancing to sound in strange surround
of whom I'm not quite sure of the name.
The howling billowing wind
blowing over those wanting of wont
striding behing telepathy of mind
chanting either hurried can or can't.
Lovers holding one another's hand
after praying at mass for a wind driven mast
leaving footprints in seasand
commiserating passed past.
Gazing faithfully at the heaven
commemorating requems past
receiving what is given
at last relinquishing lost blast.
At the height of noon spooning an appetising tune
as man devours meat of beast
midyear June in reality watching a cartoon
that at the most could be doh least.
Whistling while whiling the time
Whistling while whiling the time for a while
purposely being happy instead of cross
amazed at a whale swimming in the Nile
tossing a pebble at rock beneath moss;
gaining membership of a clan,
deliberating over climbing over a mountain high
pondering on hobbies as man can
restricted to walking below inviting sky;
being reminded of passing time by ringing church bell
warmed by both chimney smoke & cloak
feeling well as pride doth swell
choking an oak with sticks to poke;
sharing a hug with a friend so fine
relenting that what's hers is his
seeking jug with water aline
shyly stealing but one single kiss;
interpreting words wise men spoke
be these applicable to me
marvelling at the slowly growing oak
bowing a timeous wooden courtesy.