Life's Song

Sing, the mind on its first breath rush sings
Forcing a wail from deep within the just-opened-for-business lungs
Welcome to the world, and will it make you sing!

Sing, if not yet, then gurgle and spin
Your arms up and down and the joy will be seen
Little angel do sing.

Sing, the catchy TV melodies and childhood tunes
Enjoy this moment, it's gone too soon
So go on  and just sing.

Sing, let the whole world know you are mad.
Sing along to angry and dark lyrics and the gothic mimic.
It's a healthy way to deal with raging hormones,
You might as well sing.

Sing, of icons past and done deals.
To prove your intellect, your mind needs.
Mind you, more than a few will mind:
Still, go on and sing.

Sing of betrayal and of hurt
Affairs past and of lust and hearts full of wanderlust.
It's a sign you have a heart.
We feel you, so sing.

Sing, of the perverse and as an art.
There is always someone who wants and needs
To hear what you sing.
So for them do sing.

Sing, and join the jubilation of two now joined as one.
Wedding songs and wedding bells
Rising with happy voices as one.
The crowd as one, dances and sings.

Sing, my heart to the Lord and all he has done for me.
Rejoicing for the child I now hold in my arms.
Joy unbounded, I am lost for words.
Still with shouting I sing.

Sing, a song of accomplishment in the old age.
A song of contentment with the onset of sunset.
For even in the night,
We still will sing.

Sing, a dirge and in passing
The heavy hearts will sing.
The unbearable pain evident,
In the song they sing.

Sing, of those who passed away and of their great deeds.
Of the times and love we shared, for the time they were let be.
Living on, in our minds and in our hearts,
and the songs we sing.

Spare Me

Spare me,

A penny; begs the human being,

Who life has kicked to the gutter.

As you pass by aloof…

And under your breath

A curse mutter.

Spare me,

Cries the little girl as the being

She understood protects her

Acts not as a human being

As her innocence…

Is shattered.

Spare me,

If not for me for the one within

Begs the soon-to-be mother

Even as the darkness gathers

After the air by a boom…

Is shattered.

Spare me,

Cries the old woman

As they slowly advance towards her.

Brandishing their pangas

Short sleeved or a long sleeve…

They ask in laughter.

Spare me,

I’m too young to take a life or be a soldier.

Why do I have to fight…

For something I do not believe in.

I want to learn to use a pen not a gun

And play, not rape, for fun.

Spare me,

I got mouth to feed

And others that rely on me

Someone and places to be.

People and dreams coming true

To see.

Spare me,

Not with gold nor with silver.

Neither with time nor with love.

Spare me but a thought:

What would you want me to do…

If I were you and you were me?

Wrong Number

A phone call while busy hustling to get their daily sustenance.
"Thika soo, Thika ni soo" Krrrrng!!
"Hello?", he says as he picks up the call: Unkwown number.

"Hi, how you been?", a sweet feminine voice inquires.
"I'm good, who am I talking to?"
"You do not remember me?", she asks.
Reaching into the deepest recesses of his mind,
He tries to place the voice: nothing.

"I must confess I don't know who it is. Lost my phone sometime back".
He decides to add the last bit as a lifeline, just in case.
"This' your darling. Recognize me now?" she asks;
Hook, line and sinker.
"Almost have it, but you know what would" be great? A name".
Something smells fishy and not in a good way.

"Why do you need my name? or how many of us are there?"
Quickly weighing the risk vs the rewards,
He decides to err on the side of caution and plays it with a condom on; safe.
"Beth and you are not her so who are you?", he demands.
There is silence but he barely catches the laughter in the background.
"Sorry, who am I talking to?", she asks after a pause.
"Mark and who..."
She cuts him off, apologizing as she says,
"I'm so sorry, wrong number". Call ended. Dial tone.

Something bugs him and he decides to ask around amongst his friends:
Unkown number, Unknown number... finally,
Yeah, I know that number.
Try number 11; the magic number.

Reaching home, he tries the number
"Sorry, the mobile subscriber can not be reached"
Today was not his day with feminine voices, he muses.
He get into the house and Beth welcomes him.
"Hello dear, how was your day?"
He sits down as he replies,"Had a hell of a day".

She takes a seat facing him and asks
"What happened? Nothing too bad I hope".
"No, some woman called claiming to be my darling then hang up"
"You sound hung up on it", she replied.
"Just bothered me that's all. Here take a look at the number"

She leans over towards him to take a closer look; slap.
"Did you put someone up to this?", he shouts at her.
"What are you talking...", she asks, cringing back.
"Don't try to play games with me any more", he warns and continues,
"Annette. So I will ask you again, did you puck someone up to this?"
She knows when she is licked and nods her head.
"I can't believe you mistrust me so much", he fumes.
"If you want to play mind games, you would be wise to recall that
'mi ni wrong number'".

Packed Cases

Could it be she was haunted by past faces?

Which made any future with her a thing of the past

For she now judged by past cases?

Told him she had heard it all before,

The same phrases;

Why do I keep getting people of your kind

Haunting the same places?

He always seemed to be in a hurry to go

Choosing to end up exactly where he was before.

No strings attached or inclination to get tied down.

No time for roots to take hold

For his heart is full of wanderlust

And his mind always raring to go

Making a relationship with him

A wonder were it to last.

Her mind already made up

She excused herself, to go and fix her makeup.

He gulped down another beer

And thought she really didn’t need it.

Both getting back into role: in a tragic romance drama.

Masks had been cracking and facades had been slipping;

The heart’s sphinx caught sleeping.

Caught up in his own web

Seeing his chance like sand through his fingers slowly ebb

For all he knows is how to keep his distance

And now that it was needed the most

The bottom of his heart would not come to his assistance.

So he resorted to the same words but now said with meaning.

Hoping she would not take them as demeaning.

She was ill at ease;

Always had been a tease.

For once found one she really hoped to please.

But even as she leaned in for the kiss

Her hands were pushing him away, willing him to cease.

Though in the back of her mind

She willed him her heart, will and soul to seize.

Checked into hotel California

It really had been easy for their cases had been packed

It was not as if it’s space that they lacked-

For their hearts were empty places.

Yet for once it all sucked

Leaving was not going to be as clean or easy.

Maybe not even an option though they already had;

Packed cases.

Bleed

This might come off as the work of a psychopath
But I am merely a highly functional sociopath.
No because I take the less travelled path
But its really because I love a bloodbath.

I am weary and worn out easily by well-worn paths
and striving to be politically correct.
Uninspired with too predictable an environment
Seems that I best thrive in chaos
A place with no boundaries;
Ideas anarchy.

I hate the sight of things unmarred
For they are to my my eyes, simply plain
I love fiery moments, the aftermath charred.
And seem to only find beauty in scars.

I love to slice and I love to slash
Rubbing fiery, potent, hot spice into a gash.
I love to drown, the sound of the splash
As I wallow in my emotions before I make the pen bleed.
Leaving the paper's face permanently bearing my mark;
a character attack 

Pantomime

Play no games, with me my love.

Another moment of drama, I will not have.

Now it's this, then it's that.

Take it slow and play just your part.

Overly gesticulating, why not try tact.

Mind you; the world is a stage and we all put on an act.

I am tired of trying to please, one impossible to appease.

Many claim you blow their minds and at first you did.

Eventually you made me feel like I should just blow it off.

WORDS INADEQUATE

Words inadequate, to express what's perceived.

Words inadequate, for a gift gratefully received.

Words inadequate, to say all that I mean.

Words inadequate, to describe the beauty seen.

Words inadequate, so the memories stay deep within.

Words inappropriate, to express what I feel.

Words inappropriate, the mood bound to kill.

Words inappropriate, made more palatable with skill.

Words inappropriate, harsher than the sound of steel on steel.

Words inappropriate, for they tend to emotions chill.

Words uncaring, from those doing the most caring.

Words unsharing, in moments of full exposure and soul barring.

Words unbearing, a little of the load of those on life's road faring.

Words unstaring, never to see what they do yet to be off always raring.

Words undaring, saying I will yet nowhere to be found when actions come tearing.

Words unveiling, the perverse and uncouth.

Words unveiling, failures past and triumphs of youth.

Words unveiling, the rough beneath the smooth.

Words unveiling, burning as they soothe.

Words unveiling, see now the naked truth.

Words availing, a way to express love and hate.

Words availing, an abstraction for thoughts small and great.

Words availing, a path to immortality and glory.

Words availing, a way to tell my story.

Words availing, a way into or out of paths lowly.

Words inadequate, to not be mistaken stay on guard.

Words inadequate, to be understood is an art.

Words inadequate, for even a fraction of what's on my mind.

Words inadequate, yet words is all I have.

A Word is adequate, for in the beginning was the Word and for me it's a start

Time Passage Crossroads

Another season has come,
And with the passing of time,
I have grown wiser; or have I?
With the passage of time

See, time has a way to dull the pain
but some wounds never heal but simply fester
We forget the reasons but hang on to the emotions...
With the passing of time

Experience may be the best teacher
But some of her lessons are forgotten fast
Yet each of her tests more trying than the last...
With the passage of time

Last time I swore it will never happen again
But I want the whole world to feel my pain and have all to gain
will I later in regret swear yet again as I cleanse my soul in the rain...
That's the passing of time

Life's Paradox

To avoid strife, decidedly undecided.
Going against self, wholly divided.
A wanderer through life, committed to non-commitment.
A pupil blind to self, truthfully self-conceited.

Simply profound,
Successful in self-deceiving that more sins will atone their many sins
Living in a movie, making one too many scenes
And unseemly as it seems,
They do believe the make-believe they have seen.

Believing in the eyes and brain and the hard truth is that
All that is or seems is but a half-truth
Which am sure we can all agree to disagree is a non-truth
For what is deja vu  but a cosmic peek-a-boo
Space-time to mind: joke right back at you
when your mind informs itself yet recognizes that it hasn't
That is has been and seen...
There is an order to the chaos