Share me your dreams,
give me your aspirations,
love me your inspiration.
I will be influenced by you,
I will be moved by you.
In a way,
we can make and do it ourselves,
when a life treads and walks out of our life and love.
How would I know,
If I did not try,
sure it cannot be done by thinking,
sure it cannot be given by loving a life known.
Who will submit,
me or you.
Can we be humble enough to say,
and mean it with no words,
but I will always stay.
. . . that bee is in a rut.
Its madness and sadness comes of life in a nut.
Once upon a day,
he went to tell my skin and say.
Here is some honey for you,
coz I am filled with honey,
I can’t stand this life that stings me.
How do you like it.
I ran for my life and looking for a river,
“get away, get away!!!”
My duality speaks none of your civility.
Mine attitude speaks loudly of my credibility,
yes it is my own responsibility,
of my own behavior when I need to be yours truly.
All of my right would be as logic to myself,
however yours is your left.
Were it to be my left is a reason of my being,
than yours is none but your right.
Upon Eve’s submission.
I am none but my grandmama’s listener.
With Lilith’s consent,
I can be her consenting consort.
Time unfold from ages to all rages.
We as men knew and knows we can be,
or cannot be good to the ones we need.
Yet who is really must be blamed for.
If all problems are pointed to an intangible
and subject to mankind’s weakness.
Aren’t we all to blamed,
Aren’t we all to be shamed.
Can’t all of those whose needs to be met,
are not of but wants.
are needy of humanities desire.
Emotions are inconclusive,
are incoherent. . .
judgemental of. . .
presumptuous. . .
and yes the deadliest of assuming behavior.
I need to say,
I need want to know,
I have to be here,
in a way.
I am too.
Me too, “me too”.
Masters of heaven.
Masters with slaves.
Men and women wanted
Work without work.
Men ascended as fates of themselves.
Men wanted to be gods of their likeness.
Needed to use others to gain none but their stairs to the heavens.
Yet when the peons and slaves
did gain their wisdom,
the upstarts left
to the beyond expanse.
Once upon a dream,
there was nothing.
Then a pencil came forth from these right hand,
only to have a hand that did land.
Whence that dream dreamt words at its seems,
It told the right hand to switch from illustration to illumination.
3 scores and four years added to all loving bitterness, madness,frustration
then than a quick concept of half a year rising
to the top of Himalayas and back.
My right hand still was at my right,
using none or useless papers,
even my noggin to replace a love of what the dream meant.
Yes the dream did dreamt
on each day it meant,
it lived a life worth living.
In a tone where the dream were living a life worth having.