Small Potato's Offering

Lilies never welcomed me here
This jewel is for the first-rate
whose print paints compelling rainbows
of freedom, love, masterpiece, hate...

Concept is for the eventides,
who nobly sits on the mountain,
whose words embraced by the forest
to guide, to inspire, to sustain..

I am nobody at the edge
picking words fallen from the trees,
melting hours to form candied verse,
to the best might I could express.

Forgive me for taking this chance,
this one fickle finger of fate.
I'd like to tell you about greens,
how good they swayed and tuned to late...

how the nature stops evolving
for the flowering of a rose,
or spring daffodils by the pond
that spurs imagination for a prose.

And before this short chance shall wilt
like Queen of the Night in the mead
that turned to a plain, faint cactus
and lives hidden on the wearied beads.

Let me tell you about the greens,
the mystical blue butterfly,
just to inflict a little smile
and a drop of hope in your sigh.

Memories of our trip to Pattaya

Random laughter
reverberating
along the wings
of the dawn's breeze.

And the real smiles
poignantly
sweetened my day.

On the wall
there's Pattaya
gleaming calmly,
invigorating
my espresso.

Ethereal calmness
fondles my heart
with this retreat.

And all you hear
are croak of frogs
meters away
and irrelevant.

Two-Face

Shepherd me not with your tricky melody

for your voice is contaminated.

It might inclined me to a path where

daggers daringly dances for me.

Never stirs my innermost room of peace

just to thunder it and leave, 

like a father despising his son.

Never roll your deceit upon my toes

and shatter the land where I stand.

Draw me not to your dusty self

and claim me as your righteous escape.

Never ever trap me and tear me

for I doesn't care anymore.

Look into my face and on my palms,

haven't you seen the traces of strife?

Mislead not the eye of my savvy soul

Just walk away and leave me please.

For the very mentioning of your name,

the firstborn of hell slowly eats my ease.

Chief Justice's To-Do list #1

Wind itched views to an imperious,
who grinned with evil intent.

She said: 'I'm eager to transform into cactus,
in the neck of the President.

My Muse

I cite the times I pined for you,

yet often they were manifold.

 

Through tides deep lost, I ached for flair,
yet never had I told.

 

The keepers of the peach desire,
feigned well-rehearsed that made me stray.

 

Yet catchier wings of subtle wind,
have kissed my eyes and showed my way.

 

I sense your brush as dawning peaks,
atop the fiery spire.

 

With firmness borne to kiss my dream...
I set my ink on fire!

Office Politics

Another threadbare day
yet to die.
Skeptical glances emerge
on this aerosol-filled room.

The bitches are trying to salvage
the serene beauty
it brings.

There they go again,
plummeting the rays of our sun
and those who tried to hold a job
in a confounded way

In the seam of our veiled
observation,
we sympahtize (for) one another
-by stealth

so as not to bleak
our paltry observation

Lunch break.

At the pantry,
dashing windblown hopes
on the platters.

(unpleasant view on the spoons)

The minutes are piercing seconds...
words revolting to ears...

Beat of fear roars...
One bitch succeeded the spot
and the looser took the backseat

Such sight for my optics...
I need an eye drop.

That Moment at the Porch

Once, the nasty gale hit me
And left me with unmerited slap of a lifetime

A string of appalling thoughts
rushed in

In ample winks of profound meditation..

Smooth laces of sun rays
glimmer its inclanation
to my anthurium.

An appealing sight...

Walking unshod,
I pad to the glossy ecru ceramic
locking the lapse
between life and bliss

Faint heart healed!

A soothing sound of breeze,
all I want now to draw me

in the overflowing trance...of summer.

Tiny Beads

The tiny beads of love thoughts
I carry with me
disbursed glitters to the winding roads
concealing crevices on the bend

The wind,
sometimes raging and disapproving,

it crippled me frequently,
dissed me upon the only path
left to choose where

no emblem of diplomacy,
no shade of candor.

Yet I mended my open wounds
from behind twinkling eyes.

Sometimes a stirring fowl
befuddled my course
to acquaint me with interchanging
silhouette of few human race

Grand was it all

...then cracking

When their entire ornaments roll,
glowworms spark atop
each and every wick of their soul.

But precious are the times
I stood on the cleave
and tiny bleeding hearts popped
with wings extended to move me.

These comprehend the mixture
of unspeakable emotions.

Another day is done.

The new orange-stang of air
consume my journey
back home.

Flowers started to bloom
-a suggestion of inconceivable intensity
to scribe a new conte in my heart

for what is most special and priceless
are the tiny beads of morals collected

sewed and arranged
to bond with love thoughts

a new armament redesigned.