Alexandrian Ink Poems

Time from its premitive
Has been sensitive with nature
Growing and changing in a holistic perspetive;
A dance for every creature.
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From the pen of the abused sad child I present this to u

I curse the day I was bored,
A greater curse be this day
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We are all Pilgrims
from far-away lands
like allians we come
but this is my real home
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Before this year comes to an end,
Let everyone to my call kindly attend,
To the earths furthest end, this will I send;
If I have offended you, lets make amend.
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Her last Dolour

Where your treasure lies
There the heart dwells;
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This fruit from devil's table,
The wit of the non nimble
Shining like the summer peacock,
Hovering in the heart dark
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I am the voice you hear
From your sweet love dear
Which like a swift sharp spear
That pierces a young deer.
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I wonder how the world would have been
I there is no sun,
I wonder how, if anybody has, or have seen
A family without a son.
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To that place where snail is not eaten
There snail with the inhabitants compete for food and space
But where it is hunted like one who has just stolen
There is snail's desert, always seen in such rareness.
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#The_Dolour (the death of Jesus)

On that mountain of sacrifice
Is erected but two alters;
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