The run aournd

Some place where the sun is but a yellow ball in the sky

And no sound echoes in the rivers of night

Animals walk without fear in their heart,

shades of colors feast for the eyes

When those who stare can only see the run around

Places as far and wide as the universe spins

to edges of the mind where only the children can sing

Far into the land of mist they travel

in a water basket of musty old bagles

Where those who care only find the run around

In a gentle grasp of a wave gone wrong

the chalice of gold is now lost yet found

nothing good from darkness can come

but still it is near ever to be bound

And those who can feel find the run around

Note: A little poem that came from nowhere, settled in my mind and left to be here…


The way

The road was broken so he fell

When it was fixed he couldn’t tell

So when time came he fell again

He waited for days in the rain

Waiting, watching till someone else came

Then imitating him he crossed, the end the same

No answer was there, why couldn’t her carry on?

The road was with no hole, it was he and he alone

The answer finally came to him in a dream

He walked the road not looking the way it seemed

When he reached the end, he couldn’t stop he was stuck

There was no end for him; he simply walked through the rock

So till the end, forever he will be stuck.



I.          Swiped away to the sea

            An orange of a clock

            Lead an army on dolphins


II.        Selling the world in a closet

            A new style of old you covet

            Legacy in the blue sea on a hook

            White bricks flee to find a crook


III.       A fake tune in harmony

            The strings of life on death

            Burp on a gentle publicity

            Watching TV seeing less


IV.       A miracle of life with death

            End to all with a singing drunk

            Total cowardice with a brave conclusion

            A muse with no thought left her own.


A girl with a guitar plays false to a star

Number of stars on Hollywood boulevard

Days sleeping, dreaming of reading

The unicorn killed the first born sleeping

Hollow cries to all lullabies

On a crashing plane the pilot flies

Ugly kid, with makeup he’s great

Good for a cent, a hooker’s fate

Hell on a distant star

Where the end is so very far…