MY violin

I wish I were young, when death was distant
when I thought of love, when my heart was brilliant
I felt like I was split in two, my soul, that is
when I was divided, those two i wouldn't miss
where in the world of deception, half was spent
and at my cozy hearth, the other half was sent
the former was tough and resiliently made,
while the latter was formed with repent and taint

I was a man of not many words,
and my business is one for an introvert
I always felt for the maple's predicament
cruelly, as I cleave, I guess I'm no equivalent
you wouldn't mind, I thought, as I turned from the stump
I'll make a piece of art, so don't be such a grump
Beautiful! I call to mind, the last instrument i assembled
the best for last, before my body and me no longer resembles

At home I would think ways to end the suffering
while on the outside, my smile was never ending
But in the end I couldn't hold, the mortal chains itself
with a match I burnt my stall, and the flames i joined myself
As an apparition, I tread this dirty world, watching my spouse
and the pain engulfed her, I saw, as she worked a new house

later on, when her eyes were worn, and her skin was rough
she held my ashes in her palms, and smeared my last wooden craft
the contraption, when finished, so lovely the sound
my soul, and ethereal form, were inevitably bound
she tuned and played the ash-made fiddle
recalling my fate, she intricately wove my riddle
the bow danced, and devotedly, she performed
her fingers moved so wildly, and yet so warm

It was then that I felt, that her love was true
unrequited it was, and now the guilt accrues
my mind is pondering ways to communicate
I want to converse, and with that, erase your hate
repent is not enough, but too I'd pretend
my gifts were not enough, but now I'll amend
I'd be upon the land where my last maple stump once was,
playing lucent tunes for you, but untill you appear

I'll

never

pause

What I'd do for You

Id paint the city pink in one run,
or paint it red, at your command

Id pick the sun off the sky,
and steal the moon when you cry

Id play you a concerto as sweet as it goes,
till the night ends and you doze

Id ask you why you're feeling down,
and buy you a pretty summer gown

Id gladly knock into a tree,
while glancing at mesmerising,thee

Id bring you bouquets of sanguine rose,
and rub in camomile scents, to soothe the nose

Id brighten your day, with lovely mails
all to keep you on your tail

Id treat you to vintage wine and Bailey's,
or send you millions a bottle of whiskey

Id give you praises of what you wore that day
listen and appreciate what you had to say

Id do almost anything for you,
so would you be my dear

Betrayal

Begone, feral soul
Thousand regrets grow
Let hate arise
Jeer and despise

Our unforgettable bond
Tattered and torn
Took my sword
To sow discord

Your brilliant smile
Serious yet wild
Seen it transparent
Thoughts were indecent

Cease to ostracise
Or you'll terrorise
Stop your judging
like God's underling

Brace your wings
As you fall
God's been angry
At the irony

Angel doing evil
Not even civil
Strong you perceive
Weak I believe

I know everything

Hmm.... I've always wondered made you sit so straight. Could it be the rampant feelings of culture shock from transferring to a co-ed? Or is it your consideration of the possibility of me reading your mind? Maybe it's a moment of folly: maybe a man, for a man would easily cause the spur of a moment. If, unfortunately so, perhaps a man's ears could help in taking in taking in your aoelian recount. Men are known to be blunt, and forceful, like the ball of a bommy-knocker (a strange nickname i've had for bludgeons since young, under the influence of my father); Women are known to be delicate yet strong, similar to the edge of a dagger (finely chop and the enemy goes down). How perculiar that neither descriptions would seem to fit me. If you would know of a mix of these two I would gladly accept the term. I can sense the feelings of a sophomore with uncomfortable ease, and attend to those feelings with deadly accuracy you won't feel those feelings die off, if you catch my joke. Step in to the Spring! With a spring in your step! Oh the laughter it kills me! Alright stop digressing. MY level of intimacy with my finely made mate is unbelievable. My experience in love, too, is unfathomable. I sincerely hope you to confide in me, your distant worries and stinging concerns, but much to my dismay, I am aware of a social-gender-clan-divide in our class. Of course you can contact me in times of desperate need, as long as my time is vaccant.
Yours truly,
Thy Soul

Sun

child of heaven, hear my voice
listen to the pleas, 'o my underlings
you bring spring, to us things
reason, doubt and choice


tattered shoes grip the soil
green garments, yellow cap
life, from which we wish to take naps
let us burn off this mutual coil


flaming orb, similar in skin
in this way I feel shame, in fact rather
brothers 'o colour kneel before each other
fiery tongues infest us, till dry,and furthermore thin


the sanctuary of night, I repose
my head, held low, give blatant sighs
starving, the seeds of offspring, show them bony tighs
and could probably silence their whines, I suppose


child of heaven, hear me say
the sky you make grey, like wine
your crimson drops and my feet, intertwine
little is much enough, thats all I pray

Death's Road

The grey blends in blue, and covers the sun
till up in the sky I see none
upon the empty road I walk
the onyx ravens seem to talk...


crooked fingers point at me
like signboards for me to see
upon the empty road I run
I see future friends at every glance...


rustle the leaves as I please
and they poke me like a tease
upon the empty road I prance
the fallen twigs seem to dance...



dilly dally, I've time to free
maybe in this dream, I'll find glee
upon the empty road I trail
my life now is for sale...


send me away to another place
perchance I find sorrow, I'll live in grace
upon the empty road I amble
my legs begin to tremble...


the saying goes: life flashes past
but instead I see my sins flying fast

Because

upon the empty road I walk...
the reaper's scythe I stalk

Riverside

Saga seeds lie in repose
I just watch and appreciate
scents of treaded grass that rose
just before they dissipate.

Stalwartly I watched the show
bug-bitten hand on my chest.
Weathered compass in my hand
in such contrast to the rest.

Many mosquitoes recline
spoiling the walk and the fun
Wings erect, held paralysed
my blood tribute to the sun.

The stillness soon is dead, with
the gloom of incoming rain.
I gazed on the path ahead
this long trek would end in vain!

It’s sad: I still feel the pain
I can’t ask clouds not to pour!
Pristine drops slowly fall. Rain;
the situation turning sour.

I shake my head hard and fast
no longer thinking of this grove.
I slide my hood and run past
with the rain it’s time to move.

Life and movement fills the air
I thought I’d stay as I please.
E’vry scent, this scene so fair,
the forest moves in a wheeze.

That time will never come again
Frozen scenery comes to life
my solstice gone with the rain
the world moves again in strife

The trees’ shelter keeps me dry
but only for a short mile.
I think of the scene and cry;
a sight not seen for a while

Life moves on eventually
There’s not enough time to chill
How I feel the irony!
of the saying, time moves still.