The pulse seems tranquil and still, But they don’t have blood in it filled. Strange, the brain is at bark within. Why this uneasiness seems like an attaching shark? I do sit and endeavour to settle it down, But for they still dance and treat me like a clown. Trying to find out the way to neglect, But it enforces me to again and again reflect. Surprisingly, I’m not as worried as I was about tomorrow, It’s just another performance of sorrow. I don’t hope my assumptions to be right, And fear as vision seems blurry to fight. I’ll try and be upfront, About the dawn that peeps like current.
The legato of language and lingo, The dance of diction and dialect — Have you ever considered the difference A little letter or two can effect? Texture of tense, Savor of sense, The nuance in a sentence — What’s really
Meet Zask and Zisk, See them venture forth — They know little About the destination, Only that it’s an energy station On a big blue world Known to locals as Earth. “Look at that!” Exclaims Zask, “We are in luck
A philosophical question for anyone who has an idea. Imagine my hands are a set of scales. In my right hand I hold this crazy little thing called love. You can choose anything you want to place in my left
The very essence of love is uncertain, A relentless thumping of the heart. I must speak to you by such means as they are within my reach. He pierces my soul driving me into madness. I am half agony, half
The moon awaits eagerly in the same pedestal it ignited my passion. What lips, my lips have kissed, are long forgotten. The memories easily quickened as a few puddles along the way I voluntarily stepped in. What arms have lain