FIRE OF MOODS

(i) Purified, The home of infinity lands And entangled sands Carried by angry winds. We are gathered here to seat, Call it fate. For the grounds are aflame That our feet are scorched. Hush! For we laugh, We play, We sing and we dance here in this steepe. For serenity lives here, And hidden diamonds too. So kow-tow! (ii) Pow! Pow! Pow! This gunshot is our alarm, Our friend and our calvary. We anticipate it. Pocka! Pocka! Pocka! This gunshot is our trouble, Our enemy and our frustration. We fear it. It is not our fault That we now know the language of bullets. We are gathered here to seat, Call it fate. Quiet, For at the gunshot, We don't think, We don't sleep, We cling tightly to life, Striving to never let go. (iii) We are safe... Save safe! We are safe from light fingers, And dark lips with heavy captions. We are a unit in unity, Unified by mother tongue. Yo

Like phantoms... Some ashes never grow cold. There is no peace in the land of poisons, For its venom haunts every branch even to the deepest roots. There is sweet music in the kisses of lies, Only that its gentle caress is a soft pierce of a poisonous arrow. The voices from the grave still scream  awake innocent blood from guilty hands, That plucked juicy apples from murderous trees, And did eat. How sweet it is to grow wings to fly, Yet even more dreadful is the fall when it breaks. And so does shame make rain descend from the tough eyelids of death. Like phantoms... Some ashes never grow cold. Shan't a seed spring forth when watered? So does evil seed shoot and kill when it ripens. Ask beast-keepers. The fruits of a lie is the colour of blood, But of false witness - the colour of darkness. He blows out the faint light of hope And resigns himself to the valley of the shadow of death. There are fruits of confusion, Ask ora

how often do you see? how often are you beguiled? for certain wreck tangles are hidden in the circle of words. there are sounds that brings a world to life, where words shows us how to Ward off Evil and livE where we can safely draW breath. while many words has made many men learn to hold their peace, Time ticks and eventually emiT the steams of a Mad rage caged in a daM and tamed to be wrongly calm. are our lips not true? for they are a Loop whole enough to expose the secrets hidden in the pooL of the heart. and you can view the future where the shades are Deep and the hues are War. how have you peeD your pants and lived in the raW, when pure lips has spilled the wrecks and brought the future fire to your present pyre that you may burn them Now and be at ease, with the understanding that you have woN even before the war begins. how often do you really see? how often are you easily beguiled? for certain wreck tangles are hidden in

I am at a loss on how to begin this poem. But I will not hide like shape shifters, Who have made the night their sanctuary, And glowed from the brightness of stars. I shall speak for the moons that shines dim in the night sky. They are the crystals Whose balls have been tossed from feat to feet, Till their glimmer glooms, And their breath is left on the verge of death. Alas! Many are in tears, As these shape shifters have become a seal of sorrow. Finding shinning lights and sapping them till they become the lords of stark darkness. They are confident robbers, For their fruits are beautifully strange, And you can hardly know them until you have devoured them, For they are pleasing to the eyes and distasteful to the buds. They will shock you in ways your wisdom knoweth not And commit you in chains to sadness and shame. I have seen these scenes play pictures of wretchedness Where stars was known to twinkle And moon was seen to beam.

How sweet are the songs of the night Where there are no sounds, For the ear listens to its own voice Releasing soft musical tones. There are balances in rhythms, But silence is perfect for the ears. It takes hold of the drums And beats them to sleep. One may wonder, Does the ear ever rest? Yet silence when it breaks forth, Becomes a sweet lullaby. How soothing are the rhythms of silence That it gives warmth to a cold soul, And hunts the stress that strains upon him. A deaf man knows too well every pattern of this rhythm, That he can see noise from afar off, And smell disturbances from miles away. Why then do we rage with noise, And war with disturbances? Shouldn't we bask in the rhythms of silence, And learn how to be deaf. #El_Magnifico™ [[Published in Cultural Reverence Magazine ]]

Hey! I hear you are the Alpha that owns the crown of Bets, And Confidently Carry it on your head. You have Decided to take your chances, And Double it with Every Fund you can raise. You set these Goals and write them on your brain, Where it finds Home and Instinctively carries it away. Jay is an handicap. But he still finds a Kick to stand upon whenever he accumulates Losses. For he has Mustered the courage to Never lose hope, And to have faith in the promises of Odds. You Played yourself, And Queued up for a cash out that was always Running. You Settled for the results That Sacrificed your Thoughts And served them Uncooked to your Very eyes. You Wept, as your Woes X-rayed you And showed you how your Yearning has finally led you to point Zero. #El_Magnifico™

In this walk of freedom, We are never the same. Yet we haven't changed from what we used to be. This is queer. They say change is constant, It definitely is. For I have seen change firmly fixed in a place And does not change, Till the Lord becomes our shepherd and we can do what we want. We have taught ourselves how to rise by creating crisis, And our tongues are forged on lies, That prises change away from changing, And we walk through the valley of the shadow of theft Without the fear of any evil. How do we cHANGe ourselves with a change that has gone mad, And believe we are living sane. How do we ChAnGE ourselves with a change that is blind, And hope to see ourselves become free. For in this walk of freedom, We are never the same. Yet we haven't changed from what we used to be. For to really change, We have to stop anointing our heads with coil, And let our cup run over. #El_Magnifico™

I find myself longing to be blind, Even when I had seen my Father sold out to loneliness And my Mother conceived of shame from this same longing of mine. But you have captured my dreams and painted them into pictures of you, And to have you is to be blind. Yet, I will gladly give my eyeballs away  That my longing may belong to me. For if love is truly blind, I really don't want to see. #El_Magnifico™