Words Much Like Poetry

the cruelty of beauty its appeal to greed lust its deity and obsession its breed the wit of beauty its bait unseen wile its ingenuity and skulduggery in between the poison of beauty its toxic grandeur hypnotic its vanity and overwhelming its splendor the frailty of beauty its withering tendency rotting in its hollow entity and demise its destiny Image: Carlos Schwabe, Fleurs-du-mal horloge , 1900

I am one day older .. maybe wiser, maybe not the days are a bit colder ... time has put me on the spot right there at the crossing some say its just a day like any other, who cares for me though, as it may its not the same, i dare say boldly; at this crossing so much time has gone, what have I done with it? no idea, as I stand alone, in this blistering heat, at the center of this crossing I don't see much to live for, I take life day by bloody day! Work and then work some more, For tomorrow, I really can't say. Why am I at this crossing? Here at this four point divide, all my life's actions culminate here, Its time again for me to decide, where next my life to steer, A choice to be made; at this crossing! so these are my options, left, right, back, forth, I contemplate my actions, and whether they're worth, to choose from this crossing strangely I am inclined to the left I feel I am on the wrong parallel maybe my true straight lie...

What is this that overwhelms me so, makes me weak of resolve when I try to forget. My efforts to distract myself fail me, and all I am left with is emptiness without you. My mind cries for you always, mine heart calling to be answered. Every heartbeat calling to you calling, of the depth of feeling to be heard. The restlessness that has overtaken me, denies me peace and fills me with longing; a desperate need to be acknowledged and be of substance in your eyes. Why do you keep silent? I only seek to know your heart. Every time I draw near, you turn your face away from me. I only ask to be heard, the desire in my heart to be understood. The warmth of your laughter, bids my failing heart, arise. Bathe me with your shy glances, touch my hand as you pass by, turn to look at me as you walk away, smile at me so I may be whole. ~ Pandit, that sappy Indian bugger. Image: Vintage Art - Lady with Tennis Racket

I am torn, conflicted between one who is beside me and one that should be, I cannot decide. She is my anchor, speaks the words that comfort my heart. The other teases me, a fun loving heart they both make a perfect woman. But I must decide. Must I choose? She bats her eyes and I die, the other winks and my knees give way. Must I choose? She makes my heart faint with longing, The other cherishes me beyond what I can imagine, they both fill my heart with joy. If I part with her, I will die. If the other leaves me, my soul will be robbed of light. Must I decide? They both are the perfect woman. ~ Pandit. And so continues the emotional binge. Image: Diver From Beneath by Petr Kratochvil

by Daniel Njoroge In the dead of night, Illumes born of Lanterns; Curtains every window. Aloof, crickets lute melancholies; so depressing and darkening, That stars hastily constellate only to gaze in sympathy. As gloom alights its luggage on the stillness of the night, Forlorn, Oh Forlorn you stand at the street prows—And Summon. Your hail, a fog, glides unprecedented; noticed but undesired, Behind fastened knobs; all sheath their souls from your fatal claws, However, smoothly you quiver loose, hinges to all serenity as you stroll by, Unsolicited, you fling open doors to utmost intimate emotion’s nakedness And move in to wed all souls that dine alone. Seeking consolation, most drown in your cold bottomless sea of an embrace, Hypnotized, you rob them of their sleep by sinking your fangs into necks of their dreams, Steadily you suck to a halt the pulse of tranquility that thumped therein, Alas you lip them with a Judas’ Kiss as you tuck them in their own bunks, Awake they will lay and...

by Daniel Njoroge Its eye moons the illumes of mortal thoughts, Map routes into new lands, lands that are lost, Scratches; embed curves and scribbles, Curves and scribbles yet untangle wits riddles, Meandering unknowingly from West to East, Graphing witty crops; barring no one to feast. Cunningly slither through White Plains, Leaking traces of knowledge and wisdom, Wisdom unconfined mental freedom, Mental freedom besought division through wisdom, Kingdom to kingdom, mortal to mortal, Traces on White Plains bear as portals, Portals at hand solve souls’ riddles, Scratches; embed curves and scribbles, Map ways into new lands that appear lost, For its eye moons illumes of mortal thoughts.

her hair blew wildly in the wind the tiny cars seemed like ants how could this have happened? too bad no one can hear my rants he promised to be faithful right from that very rainy day he first gave me an eyeful I remember very well, it was a Thursday I didn't mind that he was married or that he had two beautiful kids I was intrigued by the way he carried himself. thus began the affair, hot and steamy I have never been so so happy this dark handsome man so dreamy O how I loved him! after three long months he finally left her I thought this was now it! damn! after fifteen years for him it was over we will now be together! DAMN! ------ tears down her cheeks, her eyes were red, we met a week after, to have something to eat and she was broken, inside; she, she just bled "as you make your bed, you shall sleep in it!" and she turned, and like that she fled! she had lost, HE LOVED ME! I had won, I was the one he wanted, this was love, i didn't care that she was on a mourn, I...