c.a

if i can't turn you to be my foe
i'll neither let you be my woe
you may woo me to blue
but nay i never agree with you

you may sit you may breed
i won't keep you a secret
though you live under the culvert
but never touch this placid spirit

second date #chemopoetry

the night was young
and the nice romantic song was sung

we were ready for the fancy dine
table for two
candlelight dinner
poutage du jour

and he served amanita phalloides soup!
straight to my lymph nodes
from head to toe
hypnotized me in a second or two

was he a good fellow?
a bedfellow or a playfellow?
why he seemed like a red diablo?
playing his violoncello
and smiled like a gigolo

first date #chemopoetry

looking back at my first date
with mr. che the great
it was a fancy night
i was dearly excited
sail straight when the rough wind abated

we started at eight
how funny it was like a cabaret
i remembered wearing my best georgette
and you held me tight
tonight i was your marionette
and we played piquet...
then dance till we sweat...

you must think i was a coquette
luring mr. che the potentate
i tried to recite my couplet
while eating your bitter soup and chewing the 'breton galette'

well after all
it wasn't bad at all

there in the large cottage
we exchanged calumet

she ain't my twins

four major cores are seen
five fragments in the tissues are considered mean
high grade infiltrating carcinoma is vigorously in the canteen!

she declares to be my twins
with none in between
what a pity she's only a figurine
been working so hard behind the scenes, literary unseen

i've made her pale as naphthalene
as for me she isn't my twins;
a wolverine  robbing my healthy sheen
yet I believe my cheeks are still pink as a rosy queen -
playing tambourines at her sweet seventeen

and she'll only living like a broken submarine
busy cooking her cuisines
in her tiny leaky pannikin
the old mean gombeen thinks she's the gangrene

i laugh out loud for i am the one who'll eat her like a margarine
she'll be paralyzed and stay in the palankeen
watching me preen like a sweet robin

walk with me, friend...

may i lend you a hand, friend?
to chase the mongrel out of your pen
and to unleash the power from your hands?

let us not see
the skin that wrinkled
the nails that blackened
and the hair that fallen

let us walk in this jungle so dense
lit up the spirit of peace of mind
i know this jungle hides the golden rays to shine
but all we need is just  a single candle hope of our minds

let me hold your hands, friends
we wear the same shoes till the end
let us dance while walking through  this  poisonous  land
i promise you a happy end
the victorious spirit of our minds

searching words that soothe you well

under the silky scarf of my head
beyond the trembling raft in my heart
and from the troubling thoughts
thousands of words were sought

words that tell and yell
words that explain well
as aggressive malignant tumors expell
its carcinoma's swell
they would  multiply and metastatic wherever they dwell
killing all cells and swell
to the extend you ne'er know to tell

words with power louder than cancerous bells
ringing rigorously under your wishing well
sending echoes to the world of ne'er do well
like thousands of pipistrelle
racing out from hell
as well as pimpernel blooms in the soil  that compels

with the words of the nobel
i wish to mend all the broken vessel
to heal the aching soul well
words that ain't repel
from me your little mistrel

let me contemplate

i need to contemplate
but neither at six
nor even till eight
why do you need to yell
if he understands  even before you tell

i need to contemplate
but give me a space
in your prayers' maze
i shall bow my soul down
before he comes at dawn

let me contemplate
let your prayers be great
before it's too late
before he sets the date
and carries my soul to heaven's gate