In the darkness of minds,
Shadows lurk of all kinds,
They murmur in lonely voices,

That life is all about the choices.

www.kopteri.net/ koti/wardath/

We find what we seek but fail to hold on and let it go. We suffer in silence, laugh at the world, look for comfort in a stranger’s eyes and foolishly believe in love and lies.

Complete chaos ends in madness.

The air was damp, with salty humidity. Waves crashed against the lighthouse rocks.

A faint light in the horizon, bobbed up and down, sometimes seen and at others unseen

One castle stood against the deep blue sky, outlined by silver streaks of lightning.

He watched from within, eyes burning with passion, wordless silence, and deep breathing sounds.

They were coming; soon they’d be his slaves, victims of his clever ploy.

He rubbed his hands together in sinister joy, laughing that evil laugh.

His eyes turned into little slits on his face, the way evil eyes do.

His shoulders hunched and shook with his laugh, he threw back his evil head.

An ugly mouth opened wide revealing six yellow teeth. Yes, that’s right. Only six.

Last week he accidentally stumbled on his doormat while doing his evil dance.

His long wart ridden nose twitched in anticipation. If he weren’t bald, his hair would have stood on edge.

Thus the manifestation of all evil in the world, M. woozoolu jr. waited patiently for his victims.

They landed upon his shore, he started to drool

He ran down carefully avoiding the doormat to terrify the new arrivals.

He ran and ran and ran. And then he ran some more.

He ran face first into a large shoe and looked up in mortal terror.

His victims were fifty foot tall and he a mere three.

Quietly he tiptoed away, making not a sound.

Slithered away into the darkness, did he, ever so quietly.

Then the visitors trampled upon his garden, ate his carrots and used his castle as a toothpick.

M. Woozoolu jr ran to his papa and sniffled as he spoke.

This story cannot continue since am losing my mind.

Enough enough stop the madness…. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah…….

Strings of love surround me,
They hold me and cajole me,
Her smiles haunt my mind,
Memories I thought I left behind.
Find me in my dream,
She’s beautiful,
She’s a queen.
So fragile, so fragile,
My heart breaks with her smile.

I’m sitting all alone,
Waiting, by my phone,
Her words hang in the air,
Like the perfume in her hair,
I held her close not long ago
But I had to let her go,
She’s beautiful,
She’s a queen.
So fragile, so fragile,
My heart breaks with her smile.

I see a silhouette against the sun,
I pull the trigger on my gun,
The world has broken me
I helped end the misery,
Now I look into her eyes,
I laugh at those lies…

She stands and stares at a falling star,
Am drifting away from her, so far, so far…
She’s beautiful; she’s a queen,
So fragile, so fragile,
My heart breaks with her smile.

Free born, flying high, staring into the night sky,
A hero stands tall, overlooking the world
that taught him to fly.
Seeking, searching he walked on through life,
In search of something to hold on to, for something
That isn’t a lie.
Hands that beckon, pretending to care,
Are the minds that plan to kill and scare.
Smiles that start between the lips,
And die before they reach the tips,
Say not what they truly mean,
But underline an eerie scene.

A hero stood tall, an era did begin,
The start to freedom, end of sin,
He fought them all with just his will,
He’s out there, he fights them still.

The mighty winged beast, with a swishy tail,
Big big eyes and a painted nail,
He walked upon the earth, he sometimes even ran,
He couldn’t swim so good, but he said he can.
The hero turned into the above mentioned creature and our inspirational poem became a joke. Thus ended a saga, of bravery, wit and boredom.

I stood on the brink of a hope, gingerly sticking a toe forward, testing the new life ahead. It felt cold, tingly and a little unexplainable. I had a choice before me, to either scamper back into my comfort-zone or go out there and explore this strange new life. Suddenly a hand shoved me forward and I fell. Face first, legs up, yeah, very graceful. I never did find out who pushed. (Grrr, the rascal)
Though someone told me that it was God’s hand and his/her way of saying, “c’mon now, stop being a chicken, I haven’t got all day to hold the door open.”

Anyway having fallen I had no choice but to pretend that it’s all part of my clever plot. So I continued to have a conversation with the ground for a few minutes before getting up and smiling evilly at an imaginary friend.

Feeling not unlike a fool, I walked ahead holding my nose high. You know those times when you squint your eyes a little and can see the tip of your nose? Well this happened to be one of those times. My nose seemed to sport a pimple about an ant’s size a little off the center. That as we all know, is not a good thing. It hampers one’s progress in life and distracts the mankind that surrounds one.
Unfortunate circumstances befall the victim; a hero comes along and saves the day. Alas in real life, heroes have better things to do. So the victim has to dodge all these misfortunes, carry a pimple on the nose and scuttle through this cruel cruel life. Of course there’s melting hot chocolate and some very nice strawberries with cream that make life worth living after all.

Pastel shades of destruction

Hell broke loose in pastel shades,
All that’s fun, slowly fades,
Silent stories were told and made,
From the remnants of those shades.

Angels fell, devils rose, all in a minute’s space,
The world we humans call our own,
Continued to spin in blissful grace,
All of earth will remember that day,
When something made those creatures stay.

Finding purpose in Oblivion

Oblivion is bliss, in a strange way, the road to peace.
A purpose brings with it some very definite things,
Ideas, ideals, determination, a will to succeed,
Yet the passionate choose to walk, quiet and discreet.

Non-believers in fate, runners on the go,
Destiny makers and strugglers ought to know,
The way to creativity, the window of freedom,
Is within reach, in silence or in screams.

There’s just one place, we’re trying to siege,
With wide-open arms, free minds we teach…
Of worlds that once were, figments of speech,
They’re Memories today, well within reach.

We’re walking towards it, treading bare feet,
Dragging one too many, contradicting rules
Whats right and wrong, whats kept quiet and neat,
Who’s to say, they aren’t fools.

Every story has been told,
Twice over, even three fold,
Every road has been taken,
By some loner, long forsaken.

When the world is spinning around, and an idea refuses to leave your head. Thoughts fight one another to be heard inside, and a voice screams in hushed tones pronouncing the end of another solitary brainstorming session, thats exactly when one sole sentence repeats intelf inside the mind, saying over and over again, "find that freedom, you're so close to, step accross that line you're hesitating behind."

And when the kettle boils and boils, until the metal can't take it anymore, there's that blast which causes an explosion in the mind, and the water flows... ideas flood your mind. You're one step, closer to freedom, once again, so close.

Those dark dark things...
(advertising hides)

If advertising is an art,
That only a few can find,
Embedded in their heart,
And creativity were a reckless game,
Tamed by passions that are born untamed…
Life itself would be an ad,
And all the world a 40 inch screen,
Where people like the ones you see,
Crouching behind those aromatic trees,
Inhaling the perfumes of the seas,
Make the sky bend down and scream,
In pure rage, for the human race,
That cannot seem to see it straight,
180 degrees, 365 days,
we lived in pleasant yet distant grace…
that to their world felt like disgrace,
those who believe in swatting flies,
with rolled up papers that print white lies,
it rocks the world this crazy thing,
an idea that lacks a zing ,
but carries off an entire team,
up to the peak of an endless realm…
fables, stories, withches and kings,
those unsaid hidden dark dark things….