My passion can never be fulfill’d right,
My obsession can never be not wrong,
E’en my profession could never shine bright,
And my addiction can ne’er flow like song,

My passion in poetry is so numb,
That I cannot write what I ought to wrote,
My obsession in typewriters are dumb,
I’d keep buying them; take no note,

My profession I have is not enough
To afford more typewriter for my heart,
So my addiction would sit here and laugh,
That I’d pay for booze and not other part,

Without liqueur I could hardly be well
From no sleep to blunt thoughts; so like curse spell.


Confession From My Heart.

Gibberish, Gibberish, only kids would do,
Some of you might say it appears on me:
My writings are immature, sound’d bad too,
But I thank you for wasting time to see,

I have to say back when I started
This bloggy-hingmy-experiment thing,
I thought I could be frank and not I cared,
But I am dead wrong; this place’s clean, loving,

And because of all beautiful things here,
What I really want to write they cannot
Present themselves on the scene or come near
This beautiful place I want them on spot,

Bare with me and my confused words I wrote,
My true form is coming out from her coat!

Ah pal, here I go again.

Are people blind or I am a fool to not know:
How world’s changing and how things move freely for years,
Know not I do how behaviour patterns’ changing,
By changing I do not mean changing in that way;
Only compare them from my younger mind and thought,
For those perfect world I dreamt of all the day and night,
I say to thee, younger me: wake up from those dreams!
If not clear, younger me: Thou shalt not cope thy vision;
Coping this vision all the time will tired thyself!
As a future thee I say it proudly to thee,
Please do consider it a friendly reminder,
From a friend that never existed anywhere:
I’d like to tell thee more what I need thee to know:
For now I forgot them and will inform you soon.


Sonnet About My Frustration In My Lack Of Inspiration.

–Allow me to publish this nonesense for my frustration and all sort of thing to come out.

Sayest thou a great sailor? Say I no sir!
E’en all those time on board? Say I the same!
No love thou hast before? Not a lover!
Dost thou e’en have a life? Say I not blame!

Hooray to thy success! Value not I!
E’en all of thy effort? Mine? My effort?
Lo! Thou ignorant one! Title that’s my!
Please stop being thyself. Quand je suis mort!

Please be normal, would thee? Normal sayest thou?
Let be like other please! Say not from me!
Ease thyself for a bit! Sayest thou moo moo?
Aight that’s it I’m done here! No more of thee?

Shut thy cake hole! I will do what I can!
E’en a night time fun? Wait uh.. yes my man?

Love is love

Love is love no matter of what you are;
The righteous bond between the two of you,
It shall remains right and last so near far:
But our lives short; most with love not so true,

Not many have found their true love they seek,
Some might enjoys the comfort from their friends;
Some might enjoys travelling for a week;
Some keeps finding their passion ’til path ends,

We know what we like, we know what we love,
But with these burdens we chase it hardly;
Their weights’ll pull you down when swim up above,
That’s what we seek butne’er chase it rightly,

Henceforth the path I chase might hacw to change,
From this grey zone to somewhere in eyes’ range.

Love? What?

For me Love is the matter of the mind,
Beware; Lust is an illusion of love,
True love is when there are two souls combine’d;
The souls of two fought together to prove

The values to be together fore’er,
But lust is the nature of all human;
One can hardly let go of their nature,
And someone may fell to traps lust have plan;

To enslave and brings darkness to this land
By illusions of bliss in many forms:
To own, to have; light sins with high demand,
To feint that one loves one against all norms,

Love often comes with lust in such combo,
And it rarely comes with lust or so.

My Disappointment

I’d rather take one bullet in my head
Instead of hearing my disappointment,
If I’ve heard from thee I’d rather be dead;
Those immoral things ne’er fill thy content!

I have heard many things you always say;
Thy legacy falls directly to me:
I am this one not without thy walk way,
I am noone henceforth don’t you e’er see?

O, holy rage o’ mine will burns all good,
And thy path I can nolonger be on
Own chances for me to fall in mad mood;
Yes, I am mad, my soul lose; thy spirit won!

Once a core’s shaken and mind’s unstable,
From now on It’ll think for what suitable.