Forsaken Love :((

I turn off all my senses,
So as to listen to the heavy mourning of my heart,
The loud wails of my soul,
To feel of the eager force in my eye sockets,
As my tear cavity rumbles for a burst.

My feet shake!
They lack the strength they had when it was you and I, together!
My hands tremble, as the warmth of your palms is not there anymore,
For when I used to hold them, grasp on them, scribble on them,
My world was at peace, complete as a set!

Now, my one and only true love,
You have left me to crumble,
Left me at the mercy of emotion manipulators,
At the cross-roads again, to choose another path I am completely unsure of
With another that mine heart is yet to fall victim of!

Who will give me love like you did?
Who will listen to my simple and stupid ideas yet say “that is so great hunny”
Who will hug me and squeeze out all my worldly cares and fears,
You made me feel special, lucky, blessed
Now I am weak and torn apart-by a heavy feeling-
That I MISS you sweetheart and that I love you,
Forsaken love, which has since lost its dearest companion in you!

Once again I am left, abandoned in the cul-de-sac to tarmac
Abandoned in the uncertainty of such your love and commitment,
The meekness that was in you, the glitter that sparkled your beautiful face,
And most of all, the honesty you possessed.

Oh I wonder who the universe has groomed for you hence
For them to enjoy your satisfying and defeating love,
While now I know, it ought to have been mine
 I taught you to love, but all for another !
Whom I am not sure will see the royalty in you,
 And take care of you just like a little toddler is pampered,
Just like I did, my one only and true love!

Archive Libraries

Archive Libraries

Lately I rummaged through the famous infamous lane of ancient archives
Revisited the revered antiques where reading, writing thrives
Land of our fellow perceivers, children of archaic scribes
And upon that lane I interposed three text hives

They first one was the adager’s scrolls
Folded deficient of quagmire wrinkles but patterned in oratorical rolls
Jotted with fine lampblack ink like clay of may weather
In mono corsiva calligraphy done with the seagull’s back-wing

The second archrivals I eyed were the saint’s scriptures
Wrinkled in troughs of trepidations and crests of salvation
But pregnant with wisdom more than kings that held scepters
Lined with mein serif calligraphy- the allure of quotation

The third was the ductile stone tablet caricatured by crack
Hard and brittle in stature, pale in luster of lime chalk
Sculptured in adorned patterns of the maestro mason’s wedge
The Tahoma calligraphy adding sparkle to the scribes of Stone Age

It is from these archival libraries took we then knowledge for the learner’s ‘ext book’
Fantasy to jot down the child’s ‘story book
Adventure to lay down text for the scholar’s ‘novel book’
But nay in a zillion millennia did we decipher from them the alien cadence for fanatical facebook

Adager's Prowess

Adager’s Prowess

The old and wise adagers once said

They said that old is gold

My clear conscience rebutting in blunt cacophony hails

-When Taco stores it stales 

It’s tinge of incessant aroma decays

The snout of the weaver-nightingale pays

And the wooed prowess of the once wise ten dismays

The old and wise adagers twice said

They said that time lost is never recovered

In refute I stamp as ever opposed

-Why is it then, if I revisited my vineyard in Land’s-end

The big eye of the sky, there, will still persist unfrowned

Whilst from whence I Rome, it retired early ago

And trees whispering undiscreetly bent to let the winds escort the day home

The old and wise adagers thrice said-

Those who speaketh knoweth naught; the wise uphold silent stand

-Then why is it that I comprehend

Luther, Solomon, Po-Chui, Lao-Tzu, Shakespeare, Wordsmith…

Composed thousand word masterpieces and placed a wreath

Ought’nt they have been covert and stealth?

Adager’s prowess my foot!

Although the old and wise adagers multiple-wise said

Ramsey Ullman, calm (not like a mouse) also said:

“To know a little less,

Understand a little more’

It seems to me is our greatest gift.”

Anonymous also had a rhyme to fit:

“Good intelligence is power, and so is dynamite.” Who’s right?

The Carbonator.

The Carbonator

He bends low
To pick the mitumba shoes below
Mindless of the fumes that blow
Massively from his well
Like bats from hell
From the carbonator

You’d be put into thought
Or just had to assume that
He’d bats in the belfry
Cynicism you had to try
Nevertheless, his lungs made their cry
I tend to think their tear cavity run dry
Leaving all under the rhythm of dirges
All because of the carbonator!

He stands back up to the tallness of the roof
Smuggles in another puff
Of tar, carbon dioxide
And tracts had to divide
To let across
The cargo that bears loss
Into he carbonator!

The chimneys of the factory
Themselves told the story
Through them came out all sorts
Of fumes, of dust, of cirrhosis’s
To mention but a few the demise
Into the expansive atmosphere
This would lead into despair
Oh! The carbonator!

With the new shoe pair
He sat onto one case of the stair
Giving through his eyes a visionless glare
The ozone had been damaged
Its cavity as dry and departed
By the fumes of life
Replaced by cirrhosis, cancer and the like
Oh! The carbonator!

His dirge was sung unrhythmically
You have a chance, really!
to avoid cutting off the rhythm to your dirge
Through the puff insurge
Just like the carbonator