I Come From A City Where…

I come from a city where... Kids can make computer games But don't know how to ride a train Teens can ace quantum physics But have no clue about budget sheets College kids can start revolutions But with love they've no solution Thirty year olds still watch cartoons But can't define platoon or harpoon Forty … Continue reading I Come From A City Where…

I’m Not Lost, Just Displaced

When I lack direction They give me religion When I lack discretion They squelch my questions When I challenge regimes They corner me into the mainstream When I seek advice They tell me to sacrifice When I ask for help They tell me to save myself When I offer my assistance They react with resistance … Continue reading I’m Not Lost, Just Displaced

Protected: Two Lads and A Lady

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Strolls Part II

(Trying out a new style)   Buildings, buildings, all around Clank, honk, traffic sounds. Bamboo scaffolding, held up by zip-ties Prolonging a moment in a realm where time flies. Preoccupied by a gentle grip, Glimmering glimpses of "sweet lil' bits". Complexities, confusion, structured chaos surrounds Simplicity, serenity, calms the storms around. The moon shone brightly, … Continue reading Strolls Part II

In Light of Lightning

In light of lightning With positive on the rise Negative always falling From afar, The charge. The polarities , the gate-ways The realities The weight- -ed truths of futures untold As time unravels at the speed of light The echo The vibrations The accommodation The adaptation. Adaptation. That is essentially What we , humans of … Continue reading In Light of Lightning

Memory, or Dream?

To You: I never did get around to telling you why I was disappointed, did I? I suppose you never stuck around long enough to realize I actually am capable of emotions. At least, I seem to have discovered this capacity to be true. You did ask what it was I wanted. I wanted to … Continue reading Memory, or Dream?

Work of Art

I have an eye for words and an ear for music I see colours of the rainbow but not shadows on the streets An artist, I am not, but a creator, that I am Yet you, my dear, are the only work of art I appreciate. MG