Well, all the yellow paint that you consume
Will not paint happiness inside you.
A splash of paint on your internal organs
Will not brighten up you like it brightens up your walls,
...
The silhouettes are all that remain:
There is nothing left of them
But the memories that have faded over the years.
From generation to generation,
...
I may not be your cup of tea
But I am your tenth shot of tequila.
We are made to be together
One way or another.
...
There is a crow that always follows me:
A master of shadow—
His dark black wings full of mystery and evil;
His cunning dots for eyes.
...
I watched a dog sweep across the land where no man stands;
So delicate in his every step—
He manoeuvred across it with a strange familiarity:
The mud to him was not a problem,
...
-For Burns
Hanging from its branches,
The tree bears them like glorious fruits—
...
-For Hades, the crow
We put you up high so the cats can't get you,
But it is futile: you will die anyway.
...
You are the Bringer Of Life:
The one who spreads the seeds of Mother Nature—
But when The Darkness beckons you to follow,
You must heed its call to die at last.
...
-To my friends (who are not poets)
How can you not be a poet?
Let me understand:
...
A poem is someone's soul on paper:
It emits a feeling,
Perhaps of great rage or warmth or sadness—
...