Just Smile

A mountain has

Died somewhere.

Birds have staged

A mourning.

An ocean seems

To have dried up.

Men seem have 

Stopped crying. 

A lover's caress

Has lost its glow.

Act of listening,

Is a gone now.

A stranger to 

Feed a stray dog,

Trust in humanity

Has been restored. 

Strange is time,

Changed have

The rhymes.

For all our petty

Chimes, Gods 

Have stopped

Giving hearty whines.

Don't worry you'll

Soon be fine.

Just buckle up..

Wear a smile. 

Poem Currency

Broken pens

Don't have 

A say.

Empty papers

Are as good

As a hope

That's nay..

For a war

That's waged

In head,

Poetry is a

Price I gotta

Pay.

Lois Lane

She's a story

Broken out 

Of an empty

Page.

Loneliness,

Freshly out 

Of a 

Windowpane.

..

A dance down

My memory

Lane.

First sign

Of summer

Rain.

..

Between the

White lies

And charred

Truths...

A perspective

She can paint, 

Drives me 

Insane.

..

For the person

I've been.

She has

Little to gain.

I'm no

Clark Kent.

But she's my

Lois Lane. 

.. 

Rorschach

Mother raised

Me by working

In a furnace.

Father named

Me after all

The brothels

He visited.

For the sky

I slashed open

There was

No luminance.

To the 

Bondage I'm fed,

Darkness is

All I can sell.

If you've

Complaints,

Don't just

Start to bark.

For me,

You just might

Be a to be

Squished wart.

While the 

White Doves

Are just a

Playful feed.

For me,

Life is a

Funeral pyre.

Peace is just 

Another sham. 

Empty Page

Shooting stars,

To run down

In vain.

Wishing bones

Are writhing in

Shame.

For a story 

I wanted to write

I've forgotten 

My own name.

Colours faint

Out of boredom,

On the canvas

I want to paint.

Melodies stand

Divided for a

Song that's

On it's way.

Before I could

Conjure,

God has stoned

My fate...

For the 

Shipwreck

Between my

Ribcage...

I'm just a 

Tale in a

Torn out page.

Dirge

Like distorted

Melodies of 

A grieving

Pianist.

She speaks

As if we're

Casualties

In love.

..

Like clouds

Would cry

For death 

Of a crow.

Trees would

Feel for a

Forgotten

Dove.

..

All nights

She paints

Our memories

In black.

Shoots down

Our stories,

Stacked in

The rack.

..

For the 

Stones she is

Throwing at

Our fate.

The fruits

Offered will

Surely stink 

Out a dirge..

..