I Am Alone

I am alone. Walking on the streets.

I can hear. The drip drops of that passed rain.
The just scattered crowd after a meeting.
But I am here. Alone. Just me watching.

The chatter. Those mental exchanges.
That little show. It tells confidence and persuasion.
And, a sprinkle of deception. It’s like fruit.
But turned out to be decay. And null.

Still those are others. As I am a spectator. 
I am forced. To glance at them. And imagine.
What better tricks to use. What other words to replace.
But I now stand here. With no chance to change.

I am that oracle. I see all these things.
But neither suggest. Nor intervene.
Now. I just want to sacrifice.
For the thoughts. They come with all mingling.

The Song

He now walks onto the stage,

Six steps to there, no more no less.

With each step he makes not a single thump,

Between each step he times exactly same.

A breath to sustain exactly a line,

With that he starts to sing a song.

Each note hit with the required pitch,

Each beat matched with the demanded sound.

He continues to sing a song,

With nothing goes even slightly wrong.

He does not look around, he does not wander,

His thoughts never deviates from what he does.

With a final note he bows and leaves,

Six steps down back, no more no less.

Yet no waving he sees, no claps he hears—

He does perfect, but it is not well.

Foolish and Blind

Sometimes I live like a pig,

Rolling on the ground without risks at stake.
But I now dwell with chores and work,
Until the end when all of me decay.

Sometimes I turn off my TV all day,
To be safe from the forbidden I sense today.
The news ramble about bumps and sneezes,
Depressing my mind and gnarling at my smile.

Sometimes I put down all those books,
That foretells an end all men don't hope.
Those so-called prophesies send bouts of despair,
To me who think about the world I thrive.

With all those sadness I see everyday,
I tell myself to be foolish and blind.
If I can tie myself in the bounds of mundane,
Would I still think about all those worldly and cosmic?

The Monster

Sleep now, my little child,

Close your eyes before the clock struck twelve.

Or else a monster everyone fears,

Will lurk by your eyes before your demise.

It invades the children’s rooms,

To hear the sound of obedience and peace.

The naughty would be gone with their screams,

And end up in the shade of eternal despair.

You should sleep, my teenager.

The curfew’s for your good, my dear.

Remember it bringing torture?

That alone makes all twitch forever.

The horror works in everyone’s hearts,

To remind them of sleeping in time.

You would not want to know if it’s true,

As when you know it’s too late for you.

It’s time to sleep, he says to himself.

The story of it have I remembered.

The monster’s presence’s never mentioned,

But the fear I still feel in every night.

I used to rebel, to sought every answer.

But the answer of this I’d rather never know.

Sounds absurd for this childhood tale,

But fragment of possibilities still stay in me.

Diary

I pick up my diary

To seal it once again:

Three locks each with a different key

And a hair from first to last.

Inside it are sweat and tears

With secrets, truths and lies.

A sacred treasure of my tales it is,

But so a dark grimoire.

I wonder what others might find,

I ask what will they expose.

If they see my unknown side,

How my image would be torn?

After I wrote another page

I seal it once again:

Three locks each with a different key,

So my secrets can be secrets.

Wizards’ Duel

It all starts with arguments,

But it ends up much more worse.

Friends meeting on wasted land,

Wands both raised, mind both refreshed.

Fireballs launch and assaults go,

Damage harsh both have suffered.

Flying darts with speed and force,

Strike and distract each other.

In seconds both with exhaust,

Rest a while and recover.

Then stand up and chants begin,

One is stunned and other faint.

But a foe stumbles upon,

With two quick tricks both are dead.

Easy, simple, effective,

When infighting sounded their doom…