me is poci, white and spikey
i love to eat, i love to sleep
i wonder how to eat while i sleep
but when i sleep,
i'll be the cutest spikey cacty
don't ever touch me when i sleep
i detest that kind of deed
i'm officially a silver pigmy hedghy
i'll make you happy and jolly
only if you let me
be as "poci" as i wanna be
the smell of the roasted beans
awaken the folded memory in my brain
the time when i dipped my poetry in my coffee
hot and strong
like an old bitter song
there ....
at the corner of the 24 hour cafe
"does it ring you a bell?"
the time when i sliced all the stanzas
in to pieces of crumbly tears
glitterly clear
and you just sat with a glass of cold beer
you thought your shadow had ears
you thought it listened to your darkest fear
and the night wind presented her fiercest laughter..
i hope you still remember
or do you need a shinny dagger
to open the worst chapter
of this poetry dipped in my coffee...
(i hope this too, tells her your blue)
i try not to detest not even to protest
but when the world puts me in stress
and she is the greatest source of all the distress
what shall i do to release this mess?
may i confess ?
the mistress quality of her beauty
sweet lips playing is her best
yet i still try not to detest
Lord please... put her to rest...
i hope i represent your mind....
😣😣
once i knew her as the moon
a preaching moon is she
teaches the world to be
as good as you can be
she shares the beam
so people would see
the right way to walk in holy
Lord why for me
the beam hurts me so badly
tearing my heart till i can't see
the beauty of the moon
who teaches & preaches intensively
Lord help me
to live my life in glee
out of the darkest beam
to have my greatest dream
walking on the cloud of sweet cream..
Lord forgive me
for i see the moon as the meanest foe
tortures my life turns me to blue
Lord let me free
i believe this isn't supposed to be my woe
through the valley of darkness
where the dark shadows melted in the air
and the black clouds pretend to be harmless
she finds her soul so debonair
nothing could dim the sparkle from her heart
not even a threatening angel of death
she knows she's no immortal
yet she believes; to her creator she's special
she whispers in the ear of every stranger
she tells her loved ones loud and clear
"i am the apple to His eye and
i can-cer-vive"
when hope is swallowed by the dust
what to hold but promises that forever last
when the wicked comes to eat up her flesh
she's rescued and let to rest
because He who makes the clouds His chariot never forsaken her
she shall abide under the shadow of The Almighty
under His wings she shall take refuge
she can-cer-vive ...
because her Father listens to her prayers
#cancerpoetry
'tis the time to have a party
beneath the white clouds soft and fluffy
let's celebrate our victory
for a year full of glee
what a wonderful life from Thee
i have no regrets for all that happened to me
for Thy present is sufficient
everything is in Thy hands, nothing is coincidence
i thank Thee for the love that abundant
Thy turned me into a triumphant
my life is Thy painting, the magnificent
beautiful flowers in Thy garden
thank you for making me one of them
i am happy to close the last chapter
of this year
and am ready for the grand chapters
of the coming years
no room for fears
for His helping hands are real
thank you my Saviour
at the foot of mount poetes
a fierce beast asleep in the bed of quests
with a murder of crows as its accomplices
they peck all the answers and throw it in the sky as they please
some - found falling in the valley
most - hidden in the secret alley
mount poetes lost her poetry
all chewed by the monster of fiercest fairy
priest and monk busy meditate
collecting broken puzzles at memory's gate
in hope to find a clear tractate
be preached at the solemn obsequies
as mournful ventriloquists
and the beast remains asleep
under the thick quilt of creeps
spreading terror in his sleep
with heaps of questions turned into nasty quips
