The arguement

it may be about life,
it may be about strife,
It may be about a knife,
It may even be about your wife.
The reason is clear,
Its simple and dear,
you love your country,
You hate your neighbour's spear.
But you don't see your eyes are blind,
you are run by pigs who have no spine,
You stand developed by ages of crime,
You fight for days without wasting time.
YOur mind is bleak and senses speak,
Of a chance to strengthen the meek,
When will that day come,
where all stand and share a place,
Not be out looking for a street.

Anonymous

Who should care if I was anonymous?

If i was batman, then even the jokers will be after me

If I was superman then kryptonite will keep me from being free,

but if I was anonymous not mysterious, no one would see.

I could tell stories and get acceptance centuries later,

Walk among fellow men who just are just like craters,

I could feel accepted as a vigilante and solve matters,

Come home and beat my wife and grow fatter.

If I was anonymous, my eyes would be many,

I would be one with the ones see a felony,

And call it their right to be keepers of many,

Later I could fall in the same pool for which was dug by me,

No one would know I was dirty, because it was done anonymously.

Space

my words don't mean anything,

infact they mean nothing,

slowly they would have just faded,

only if you wouldn't have added.

All that has been said,

Has been done and dead,

Season after season arives,

Only stories unreal survive.

Figure the passion of the of the sayer,

the master story teller,

telling of all thats been done,

Of ages and of a sum.

I often why wonder,

If I were and the hour,

by time we calculate,

though I had much as you spake.

Did I live my days till some,

Dearthly wild adventure sun?

Or did I pass my self without,

A second of to think and shout.

Or is the the life we lead,

Not worthy of stops and beats,

When all we ever need,

Is two meals a day to eat.

Hey watch for the silence,

It can over whelm your days till end,

send you to hell or may be to heaven,

Wherever you wish to attend.

Why will I run around,

When all come back in a merry go round,

Sadness fill the sand,

Which sucks it to never come to hand.

Only, you will matter in the end,

Till leaves dry and bridges bend,

Till rivers change and oceans wave,

Your smile will last the age.

By the stairs

Four walls and a slanting roof,

A windblower for me and you.

Two lights, one long the other round,

One door and a mirror to see you true.

A wardrobe too small for two,

Six stars stuck by you,

One table by the cot so blue,

Another laid on the floor anew.

Two chairs of one all use,

A drawer some books old and new,

papers stuffed in like Phew!

Medicines lying of some use.

Two guitars, Black and Hue,

Wall hangings and posters two,

Inviting one on the gate,

Telling all please, Don't be late.

Of all its always new,

though my the clothes that lie are few,

One on the chair and seat and there,

There's always room for those who care.

Creatures

Thelapois was a serpent,

Evil as the Urchin

Sat on a crown his eyes were ever searching.

Maybe he went for Revacoy

Who was a sailor in a boy

but had the spirit that could lift

a dead man off his wit

So Thelapois sat on the ocean

Waiting like an urchin

To swallow the boy

Whom he marvelled like a new toy

Along came Opilia

She strangled the sea out

Twisted the waters in her labyrinth

Of high mountains and skin

As she searched the horizon

Helifas had told her a while

Like Judas he sold

the spirit of life foretold

To steal what the serpent wanted of old

So the dark winds descended on the boy

And serpents crawled beneath the shore

The horizon was closer

As wanted nothing lower

As they would not understand

They would not if they can

He gave his soul to the little ones

Since then we have all heard of

Stars under the ocean

sometime

this place blinds me sometimes,

it is also kind sometimes,

you meet strange people and they shine sometimes,

you see pretty girls and wish they were mine sometimes,

This place embraces you sometimes,

the dust sticks too close sometimes,

you wander like a rat sometimes,

then you fall on your knees sometimes,

this place drains you all the time.

This place is cold sometimes,

the summer makes you old sometimes,

The first rains can make you bold sometimes,

Oh! The year end is a bore sometimes.

But i love it many days sometimes,

even if there's a stench of poverty and altered peasantry sometimes,

i love being what i can here sometimes,

leaving it is so much like seeing you cry sometimes.

lost days

Few days have gone,

but without a sound,

i wait and relive the age,

that reminds me i am around.

Few days have gone,

but there is not much thought,

i starve until afternoon,

Just to remind me of what i fought.

Few days have gone,

since i left the sun down by the lake,

i burn for ash and company,

Just to refine me from the usual taste.

And few days are left,

Soon they will be gone,

i wait in reverence and make me not stale,

ever changing in form,

dividing myself and searching like a worm,

Just to decide which way is home.